“I think there are quicker ways to kill yourself that don’t include making me watch. Now take me home.”

“Ember…”

“Your five minutes are up. You can put me on the back of that bike right now and take me home, or I will start walking, and if that happens, good luck ever getting me on that thing again.”

We locked eyes, a battle of wills that Josh never had a prayer of winning, not when I was this pissed off.

“Congrats, Walker,” Simone said, leaning up to kiss Josh’s cheek. “What’s the matter? Little lady calling in your curfew?”

He didn’t look away from me, but the muscle in his jaw flexed.

“That offer is about to expire,” I warned softly.

He stepped back from me but held my hand, gently leading me toward the Ducati.

“Leaving so soon?” Evan asked, his helmet off and his arm around Simone’s waist. “We just got you back.”

“Nawh, man, I was just visiting. But thanks for having us.” Josh got on the bike and offered his arm for balance as I took my helmet and jacket from Tom and put them on. Then I climbed on behind him and scooted forward until I was flush with his body, my arms wrapping around his rock-hard midsection.

I couldn’t help but sag a little in relief. We were leaving. He wasn’t hurt…well, any more than he’d been when we’d come here.

“Look me up if you’re ever in Tennessee,” Josh said.

“Yeah, well, you always know where to find us.”

Josh nodded and made sure we were clear of the crowd before he opened the Ducati up. The force tried to pull me away from him, but I held tight, refusing to fall off the bike. A hysterical giggle bubbled up. Wasn’t that my life right now? Trying to hold on to Josh while he put the pedal to the metal in every aspect of his life?

God, what was I doing? Was this who he was, or had the crash brought something out in him that had lain dormant? Was it PTSD? Was it just his nature? Was he grieving Will, or scared of the permanency of marriage? Was it all of the above? Was I trying to force him into being someone he wasn’t?

My eyes fluttered shut as the wind roared past us, tears slipping down my cheeks nearly unnoticed. I was so tired. Tired of the fear that hadn’t left me since the moment he’d told me of the deployment. Weary to my bones of the eggshells we’d surrounded ourselves with since he’d been back. Exhausted from lack of sleep, lack of understanding, lack of knowledge. I was holding on to Josh so tightly that every inch of me had been scraped raw.

We pulled into the driveway, and I slid from the bike before he turned it off, already headed inside with my helmet in hand before he called my name. “December.”

I shook my head, all the fight simply…gone.

The air-conditioning hit my face, chilling the tear tracks, and I wiped them away with the back of my sleeve on my way to the bedroom. I stripped quickly, wanting every piece of that motorcycle gone. What a beautiful start of a night. I’d finally felt like we were connecting again on the level we needed, only to end it worlds apart.

“Talk to me,” Josh said, shutting the bedroom door behind him.

“No point.”

He took my face in his hands, tilting it to his. “There is always a point.”

“Why? You won’t listen. Maybe I’m not enough of a rush for you, or whatever it is you’re seeking—whatever it is you need.”

His eyes, deep brown in the dim lighting, searched my face, widening in a panic. “You’re everything I need.” His mouth crashed to mine, hard and insistent. My cry was muffled against his lips, but he jerked back. “Babe?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head free of his hands and backing away. “No. You’re not going to sex your way out of this.”

“It was just a race.”

“It wasn’t just a fucking race!” I yelled. “It’s everything! It’s the bike, and the speeding, and the sex, and the nightmares. But most of all, it’s the ‘I’m fine’ and the silence. God, Josh, that’s the killer. You act like I don’t know you well enough to see that you’re not fine. None of this is fine, and you won’t let me in. You won’t let me help, and that’s not a partnership. That’s not a marriage.”

“What do you want me to say?” he asked, raking his hands through his hair.

“Something! Anything that’s real. You can talk to Paisley? To Jagger? But I’m left wondering what’s going on in your head…in your heart.”

“I have always loved you. I will always love you. That will never change.” He stepped toward me, and I retreated.

“Then give me something to hang on to.”

“You don’t want inside my head.” He moved back until he leaned against the closed door.

“Yes, I do! I’m not some weak little girl, Josh. Don’t treat me like one. The distant look in your eyes, the way you drive, even the way you make love to me…you’re not fine. We both know it. And I’m trying. I swear, I’m trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do—where I’m supposed to push, where I’m supposed to give you space—but I can’t because you won’t even tell me if I’m in the ballpark. Am I supposed to just stand here while you self-destruct?”

“I am doing the best I can.” Every line in his body was tense, like he was ready for the fight…or to flee.

“Then talk to me. Let me help you.”