“Kenzi told me she hasn’t seen her in over a month. I was hoping they’d be bonding like crazy glue while we were gone, but Ember’s got herself in some kind of lockdown mode.”

Unease creeps over me like a shadow. The texts and phone calls with Ember every day and night have been great. She’s been happy and flirty and sends me pictures of her painting projects, the dog, and the plants she hasn’t killed yet.

But she has yet to video chat with me or send any photos of herself. Even though I ask. Every. Single. Day.

I’ve run my thoughts ragged trying to figure why, and all I can come up with is that she’s still upset about the iPad folder, and she’s distancing herself from me physically and visually. She’s put a wall up.

There’s a little voice inside me saying I might be wrong about that, though.

My defenses kick in to cover up my own doubts. “She had a bad cold, and she’s been busy painting and redecorating the house. I think it’s important to her—to do it on her own. Like proving her independence and forming her own identity.”

“Yeah.” He eyes me with skepticism. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Every time we talk, it’s been awesome. She seems a lot happier. It just sucks, not being with her. I hate it. I don’t want us to drift apart.”

“Why don’t you just retire or go on an indefinite hiatus?” he suggests. “It’s not like you need the money. Do what Evan’s doing—hire a new vocalist and keep writing the songs in the background. Do some guest appearances once in a while. Catch up on the eight fucking years you lost, and enjoy your life. You both deserve it. Don’t hang on to the band just because you think you have to, man.”

“That decision’s been heavy on my mind.”

“I know it has. I’m not saying it’s an easy one. You think you have to keep the band going for everyone else, but you don’t. The guys will be okay. The fans will be okay. Put yourself first for once, dude. Ember wanted to start over years ago. It doesn’t matter if she remembers that. You remember. Now’s your chance to give her what she wanted.”

“That’s all I want to do.”

“I don’t give a shit if this makes you mad, I’m gonna say it anyway. You need time to decompress and heal. You hafta to unfuck your head, and I don’t think you can do that if you’re trying to see-saw between the demands of the band and an amnesiac wife. You’re gonna snap.”

I meet my best friend’s eyes and nod slowly. “You’re right.”

He tosses his empty beer can into the garbage can a few feet away.

“Listen to your own lyrics: bite the bullet and just do it, baby.”

“Guess what I’m looking at,” Ember asks in a playful, sing-song voice.

I wedge the phone between my shoulder and ear as I zip up my jacket and step out of the bus to talk outside in private. It’s late—the sky is a blanket of black velvet, starless and still.

I smile. “Tell me.”

“Our new bed and furniture.”

“Oh, cool. Send me a picture.”

“No, I want you to be surprised when you come home. I’m not even going to sleep in it. I’m sleeping in the guest room until you’re here.”

I sit on the ground and lean back against the rear tire of the bus.

“Does that mean we’re sleeping in the same bed when I get home?”

My heart pounds a little harder as I wait for her to answer.

“Do you want to?” I catch the hint of vulnerability mixed with hope.

“I do,” I reply. “More than I can put into words.”

“Me too,” she says softly.

“Just a few more days, baby.”

“I can’t wait to see you, Ash. I keep watching your new videos. The new song you’ve been singing… “Dying for Your Kiss”… Is that—”

“About you?”

“Yeah.”

“It is.”

Her breath hitches. “Wow.”

“Wow?”

“I love it. Your voice…the words…it makes my insides feel all crazy.”

“Good crazy? Or like straightjacket crazy?”

“Crazy as in it’s almost like I can feel you’re inside me, touching parts of me I didn’t even know I had. Whispering words I can feel, but I can’t hear.”

Leaning my head back, I close my eyes and let her voice—her words—sink into me, filling the empty spaces that’ve been there for too long.

“I want to be inside you, Em.” I don’t try to mask the desire in my voice. “More than fuckin’ anything, I want to touch every part of you.”

Whispery and sultry, she asks, “Will you?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes.”

My cock hardens and strains against my jeans with mad need for her. “Then nothing’s gonna stop me.” Nothing is coming between us. Not my screwed-up head. Not the past. Nothing. “That new bed frame better be sturdy, ’cuz it might take a beating.”