He’s…incredible.

How is this sexy, confident rock star singing lyrics about lust, madness, fast cars, and stilettos while thousands of people reach to touch him as he saunters along the edge of the stage the same sweet man who sits on my bed—soft-spoken, quiet, and vulnerable?

Kenzi grins playfully. “He’s something, huh?”

I swallow hard. “Yeah…the crowd is crazy about him.”

“Everyone’s crazy about him. His musical talent is endless, and he’s been voted the sexiest man in rock five years in a row.”

Wow.

Only I could be married to one of earth’s sexiest men and not even remember him.

I tear my eyes from the screen to look at her. “R-Really?”

“Yeah. Not bad considering he’s almost thirty-seven.”

Asher is literally owning the stage, completely overshadowing the other band members. I don’t have to be there in person to feel it—there’s an energy coming off him that’s almost touchable.

When the video ends, I want to watch it again, but I’m too embarrassed to ask Kenzi to replay it for me.

“I have a concert video of you guys singing together years ago. Do you want to see it?”

Do I want to see Ember doing what she used to do?

I’ll either like it, hate it, have a meltdown over it, or possibly gain a memory from it.

“Don’t be afraid to push your comfort zones,” my therapist says to me during every session.

“Alright,” I reply. “Let’s watch that one too.”

When she plays that video, the stage looks mostly the same to me—longhaired guys wearing ripped jeans and leather, holding guitars, and a massive drum set up in the back.

“You weren’t part of Dad’s band anymore when this video was taken, but you used to sometimes sing your old songs together.” She points to the screen. “Those are Dad’s brothers, Storm, Mikah, and Talon. And that’s you. This is one of my favorite songs.”

Asher is sitting on a stool in front of the microphone with a guitar, and Ember is standing next to him—tall on black-heeled boots and beautiful blonde hair flowing down to her waist. The song they sing together is slow and soft, and they’re perfectly in sync, their voices weaving in and out together. I’m not even listening to the words. My focus is rooted on them and how they’re so lost in each other as they sing with haunting, deep emotion. It gives me chills.

The chemistry between them is completely undeniable—desperate and aching—as if they’re the only two people on the stage, and the thousands of people in the arena are voyeurs—witnessing a private moment that they shouldn’t see but can’t look away from.

At the end of the song, Asher wraps his arm around her slim waist and pulls her into him for a kiss that could easily rival all the wedding vow kisses I’ve seen on TV. The crowd goes wild in response.

On the other side of the small screen, my chest and stomach twinge and burn with…jealousy?

How can I compete with all this? Ember is gorgeous and sexy and talented. She’s had a lasso around Asher’s heart for years, and he’s obviously madly in love with her.

I don’t fit into this scenario at all.

They walk off stage together holding hands, and I watch her smile up at him and kiss his cheek before they disappear off screen.

“What did you think? Pretty cool, right?” Kenzi says. “You were a total babe, and your voice was incredible. Together, you guys were amazing.”

I push the cover of the laptop down so I don’t have to see anymore.

Watching the videos brought out new emotions I haven’t experienced yet, and now I feel very unsettled about everything.

Asher sings the special song to me every night. Not her.

I’m not so sure I want Ember to come back. If she does, will I forget who I am now? Does the new me go away? Will Asher stop falling in love with the new me?

I don’t want her to take him away.

Chapter Nineteen

“Tell me what you’re worried about.”

Everything.

“It’s hard to explain.” I turn away from the only window in my sitting room and lean back against the sill.

I’m startled to see he’s tied his hair back while I was looking out at the trees. I’ve never seen it this way before, but his long mane has obviously been hiding perfectly angled cheek and jaw bones. Now he looks more handsome, even with the black artwork that spiders up the side of his neck and behind his ear.

“I feel weird,” I reply. “Going to that house.”

“It’s your home.”

“The house should be where I feel comfortable, though, right?”

“Of course. It’s not just a house, home is where people feel safe and loved.”

“Do you feel safe and loved there?”

He nods. “Yeah. And lonely sometimes. I never expected to live there by myself.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not like you had a choice.”

I have a choice now, though. At least, I think I should. I’m not sure I want to go live in a big house with him surrounded by things I can’t remember. It feels like it’s going to be very overwhelming, despite my therapist telling me it will be good for me.