He blinks at me. “Dude, are you serious? That’s what you’re worried about?”

“Yeah.”

He shakes his head. “You’re so fuckin’ lost, man.”

I am, and it’s a place I’m not familiar with. “Tell me about it.”

“Ya know what part of the problem is?”

“Mostly, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

“You and Ember had this perfect relationship forever. You never fought, everything was happy, happy, joy, joy. You guys had the never-ending honeymoon phase.”

“Yeah, then she fell off a cliff, Tor. That’s not quite forever.”

He frowns. “You know what I mean. You’ve never had to deal with arguments with each other. You two just always saw eye-to-eye on everything. I don’t know how you two did it for so long, but it’s not the norm. Now that there’s some bumps, you’ve got no idea what to do.”

I lean back against the bannister. “You’re right. We’re in a really screwed-up place. Between the amnesia and my issues…”

His eyebrows scrunch together. “What issues?”

“I’m having a hard time believing she’s okay. I’m constantly worried about her. I’m afraid she’s not gonna wake up. I’m afraid she’s going to get lost. I’m afraid she’s going to get hurt. I’m afraid to touch her.” He blinks at me as I rattle off my list of craziness. “I’ve turned into some kind of freakin’ nervous nellie, and it’s pushing her away.”

“I told you months ago you were going through some kind of post-traumatic stress disorder shit.” He points at me. “You shoulda listened to me. It’s okay to not always be the rock, ya know. No one expects you to be perfect. You’re human just like the rest of us.”

He waits for me to deny it, but I can’t. Ever since I let Ember fall off that cliff, I’ve felt helpless. Weak. Like a turtle whose shell was suddenly ripped off—no longer viewed as hard and tough, but exposed as nothing but normal and vulnerable.

“Ash, I’m serious. You’ve spent your whole life being the one everyone leans on. What happened to Ember was a massive traumatic shit wreck for both of you to go through. Kenzi and I have been trying to tell you this for years—what happens to you matters too. Now look at you. Staring out a window worried about how the hell you’re gonna say hello to your wife? Snap out of it. Stop trying to be perfect. Let yourself heal and stop beating yourself up.”

“I’m trying to.” I don’t like thinking about myself. I’ve put other people first since I was a little kid. It’s what I do. I like taking care of people, being there when they need me, giving them songs that pull them out of the dark. Loving them unconditionally.

But when the most important person in my world needed me to save them, I failed. I worry that’s why she doesn’t remember me.

Because I’m forgettable.

“You better try, or I’m gonna kick your ass,” he teases. “C’mon, let’s go downstairs. Didya ever think we’d end up like this? Living across the street from each other, borrowing groceries?”

I laugh as we head toward the kitchen. “Nope. But I wouldn’t change it.”

“Me either. I never thought I’d be this happy. You guys will be again too. You just need some time.”

“I hope so.” The burning knot in my stomach reminds me that Ember spent a week away from me to give us time to think, and that’s all I’ve been doing. All my thinking leads right back to wanting to do whatever I can to spend my life with her.

I can only hope her thinking has led her to that same decision.

He glances out the kitchen window as he grabs a few eggs. “She just pulled in the driveway. I’m gonna sneak out the front door. Stop worrying, Ash. Go throw your wife against the hood of the car and kiss the shit out of her like you used to.”

Laughing, I point to the front door. “Get out of here. And I expect some cookies back.”

Ember is letting Teddy out of the passenger side of her car when I step into the garage, and the dog immediately runs to me, wagging his tail and wiggling around at my ankles.

I lean over and pet him, then straighten up to look at my wife. The past week has felt like a year. I’ve slept on the couch in the living room every night, unable to sleep in the bed without her. It was different than when she wasn’t there before. This time, it hurt too much to sleep in our bed alone, knowing she wasn’t there because she didn’t want to be.

“He missed you,” she says. Then in a more tentative tone, “I did too.”

A sigh whooshes from my lungs, and I don’t wait another second to walk around the front of the car, cup her face in my hands, and kiss her. Her lips are full and sweet, tinged with the taste of her favorite butterscotch candy. Hungry for her, I press my body against hers, grabbing her waist with one hand to pull her tighter against me. Breathless, she leans back against the car and clasps her hands behind my neck.