Me: Just talked to Tor. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.

Kenzi: I’m worried about both of you. Please talk to her. I know you’re mad. I was shocked and upset too when she sent me pix. But after talking to her, I understand. I think you will too. I love you, Daddy.

Me: Love you too. I’ll talk to her.

A streetlight flickers above me. A car horn blares in the distance. The wind is picking up, sending chills up my spine. I want to get out of this dark, dirty alley, but I don’t have the mental and physical energy to move.

Because moving from this spot means making a decision about where to go.

Home…or to Ember. And I have never, ever, not wanted to go to Ember.

As I blow a perfect smoke circle and watch it float away, I realize now is no different. Despite the anger and betrayal bubbling in me like lava, I still want nothing more than to be with her.

I flick my thumb over Ember’s name in my message app and read through her messages. Each message is like a brutal punch in my gut. All of them are apologies. Asking me to forgive her and come back.

Wincing, I squeeze my eyes shut, mad at myself for diminishing the self-confidence she obviously worked so hard for. The way she strutted down the hall earlier, rocking that lingerie, holding my gaze hostage, was incredible to see. She used to love surprising me with new lingerie. She’d creep down to the studio late at night wearing it to lure me away from work. Most times we never even made it back to the bedroom.

Now that I’ve calmed down, there’s no way I can ignore how she made me feel beneath all the shock and confusion.

Weak. Hungry. Breathless. Enchanted.

Those feelings were fleeting—quickly buried under everything else—but I can’t deny they were there. Just like they used to be.

I play the most recent voice messages, and her soft voice fills my ear:

“Asher… I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done this without you. I just wanted to make my own decisions. Be confident and strong. I didn’t want to see a stranger in the mirror anymore. I don’t know what else to say other than I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I thought this would help us start over. I feel so stupid now. That’s all. I’m sorry.”

A text comes in just as the voice message ends.

Ember: I hope you’re okay. I’m worried about how you left. I wish you’d come back and talk to me. I don’t know what to do. If you’re still in the city, please come back and stay the night. You don’t even have to talk to me. I don’t want to be here without you. I’ve been dying for your kiss too. :-(

Fuck.

My eyes burn with hot tears.

We connected in the club, even though I didn’t know it was her. It was there, and it was undeniable. She was there, singing the lyrics with me to a song I wrote about us. She was even wearing my leather jacket—the one I gave her way back in high school. The teenage symbol of commitment. The thing that said, she’s my girl. She hardly ever took it off. How the hell didn’t I know that the pull I felt to the intriguing, dark-haired girl could never be with anyone but Ember?

I tap one last cigarette out of the pack and toss the rest in a dumpster on my way back to the street.

Gram was right.

Ember was right there, right in front of me, and I wouldn’t let myself see it was her, even though every part of me was being pulled to her.

I should’ve known—she’s the only woman I’ve ever felt any kind of spark with.

Years of not being able to communicate, forgotten memories, and altered appearances can’t change that our hearts always, always, find a way to beat together.

Chapter Forty-Nine

Asher didn’t come back.

It gets later and later, the room grows quieter and quieter, and my heart feels emptier and emptier.

I force myself to stay awake until the sun comes up—pacing around the small apartment and staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows. I cry until my throat is raw and my eyes swell. Several times, I peek out into the hallway, hoping he’s out there, still angry, but wanting to be close.

He isn’t there.

I cling to my cell phone, checking it every few seconds for a message or incoming call. My last four text messages to him remain unread, and now his phone is going directly to voice mail. Twice, I called our house land line, but that wasn’t picked up, either.

He hasn’t called or texted me since he walked out the door almost seven hours ago.

What have I done?

The pit of my stomach burns from worry and hunger. My eyes are gritty from crying and not sleeping. My head is throbbing to the point that I feel dizzy.