The minute Ash gets home, I can sense something is wrong. He's tense, and none of his movements or comments have their usual easy-going humor. We prepare dinner with only an occasional comment about reading the directions. After I ask him once if something is wrong, and he's short with me, I decide to leave him alone and check-in later tonight if he seems more himself.

Tejinder and Diya arrive just as the kids are waking up from their naps, and Diya immediately grabs me to talk about her now ex-boyfriend and whether she might have acted too rashly. Apparently, she really does like this one.

While dinner cooks, Tejinder and Ash take Chloe and Joey to the front lawn to explore the playhouse and kick around a ball. Out the window, Tejinder is talking, and Ash's frown just keeps deepening.

Something must have happened at football, but I can't imagine anything that would put Ash in such a strange mood. He's not angry—sort of a sullen and thoughtful. Brooding. Tejinder doesn't appear to be helping, though.

"Do you know what happened at football today?" I ask Diya when she pauses in her tirade about long-term relationships to take a breath.

"Do I ever!" She rises from the couch and goes to the window. "Imogen's parents turned up to speak to Ash."

"Wow." Coldness seeps into me, and I shiver. Ash told me he doesn't speak to them, but he's never gone into much detail about what happened with Imogen. She left, and either he chose to cut everyone off or they abandoned him. He doesn't seem the type to hold a grudge, so I suspect they did him and Chloe dirty.

"Tejinder thinks it's a way for Imogen to weasel her way back in. Would be just like her. Sacrifice her parents to Ash's wrath, clear the path for her."

"Sounds like you didn't like Imogen," I say. Not quite the impression I've gotten in the past when she's tried to bring her up.

"I liked her well enough. But she was selfish long before she up and left Ash and Chloe with no warning. She also had a terrible jealous streak when it came to Ash. Anyone looked at him sideways and she was prepared to brawl in the pub. As you can imagine, there were a lot of fights or almost fights. So much wasted energy. Of all Tejinder's mates, Ash is unwaveringly loyal. Completely blind to any and all of Imogen's faults."

"If Imogen was trying to get him back, do you think he would?"

Diya sucks in a deep breath, and she turns from the window to survey me. "Yeah. For whatever reason, she got her hooks in him deep at fifteen, and I don't think they're ever coming out. First love is always the hardest to let go of, even if it's not right."

I stare out the window behind her, and I wonder whether I should disentangle myself from Ash now while I still can. One night doesn't have to change anything. We managed to find our feet again after one kiss. Somehow, I could do it again if I had to. We could go back to neutral.

"You two aren't..." Diya raises her eyebrows. "You told me no last time we chatted, but your face is saying all sorts of yes."

"No!" I stand up and cross to the window to stare out so she can no longer read me. "I just hate the thought of him being put in a difficult position. That's all." He's running after Joey, and when he catches him, he swings him around in the yard. A pang strikes my chest at no longer having this routine with him, in any capacity.

We've got seven months, and I already can't imagine leaving. But it's not the job or this house that make me want to stay in England. It's him. Despite what I told Ash last night about my life being in America, it's hard to consider anywhere else when I've built something wonderful here.

A reckless thought when we've only just embarked on more and there's so much room for error.

~ * ~

Diya and Tejinder stay later than normal, and they're only heading out the door as the kids are starting to get cranky and desperate for bed. Ash and I exchange a glance as I snap the lock in place behind them.

In the living room, Joey and Chloe are loudly arguing over something. Instead of rushing in to them, Ash backs me up against the wall with his hands gentle on my waist, and he buries his face in the crook of my neck, nuzzling me.

"Ash," I whisper, and I cradle the back of his head. "Let's get the kids to bed and then we can talk."

"I don't even know what to say." He cups my cheek and plants a line of kisses up my neck.

"Then we'll figure out the words together," I say, and when he draws back, I search his face.

"Diya told you."

"She did, yeah. I just want to make sure you're okay." I trail my fingers through the short strands of hair above his ear.

The noise of the kids' frustration escalates, and Chloe lets out a screech of rage. Ash leaves me in a flash, and he's through the doorway separating the kids. When I follow him to the door, he's picking up Chloe.

"My car," Joey howls.

There's a red mark on Chloe's upper arm, and Ash crouches to Joey's level. "Did you hit her?"

"Joey," I say, and I enter the room to crouch beside Ash in a show of solidarity. The mark on Chloe is bright red, and I'm sure she'll bruise. In Joey's hand is one of his metal cars. I hold out my hand for him to give it to me. "Time out," I say, and I point to the square of carpet that's been sectioned off as a cool down spot. "That was a red choice."

Ash rises, and he presses his lips to the red mark on her arm and then kisses her temple. She squeezes his head in return and tries to plant a slobbery kiss on his lips. He chuckles and mimics her fish lips, and she giggles.

"I'll stay down here with Joey until he's ready to talk about green choices if you want to get her to bed."

Once I hear the creak of the stairs, I go over and sit just outside the section of the carpet taped off for timeouts. "When you're upset, you use your words."

"My car," Joey says, and he points at his chest.

"I understand she either took something you already had, or you wanted something she was playing with, but we don't hit people to get what we want."

Joey sucks in a deep breath, and his shoulders collapse.

"When you're angry or frustrated, should you hit someone?"

He shakes his head, but he doesn't meet my gaze.

"Using your words, buddy. It's going to be a really, really valuable skill. Identifying your feelings and communicating them is one of the most important skills." I ruffle his hair, and I marvel that at least some of that I've learned from Ash. He's constantly validating their feelings and then redirecting. I know you're frustrated, but... I reckon you're angry, and... "In the morning, you need to ask Chloe how her arm is, and you need to apologize for hitting her. Yeah?"

"Okay," he says, and he glances up at me. "Hug?"

"I would love a Joey hug," I say, and I hold out my arms. He launches himself into them, and I'm reminded of how much Ash seemed to need a hug earlier. As soon as Joey is sleeping, I'm going to make sure he's okay too.

~ * ~

Joey takes longer to fall asleep than he usually does, and when I creep back down the stairs, I find Ash asleep on the couch with the TV on. I stare at him for a beat, contemplating whether I should wake him, crawl onto the couch with him, or put a blanket on him and let him sleep. Earlier, he seemed to crave the closeness and connection, and so I take a chance. I slide onto the couch beside him, cuddling up to his chest.

He releases a deep sigh, and slings his arm around my middle, tugging me flush against him. "All day," he says. "All day this is all I've wanted."

"We'll have to start scheduling some naptime adult cuddles," I say, and I kiss his jaw.

"Now you're thinking, Johnston." His lips find mine, and he kisses me, slow and tender. When his hand goes up the back of my shirt and unsnaps my bra, I draw back so my forehead rests against his.

"You don't want to talk?" Pushing him doesn't feel right when he's always been so guarded about anything to do with Imogen, but it's clear her parents' visit had a big impact. We're together in this moment, but I don't have a stake in his life beyond the next few months. He has to do what's best for him—whatever that is.

"Since last night," he says, and he kisses me again. "You've been all I can think about. I just want to be close to you. The rest of it can wait."

"I want to make sure you're okay," I whisper.

"I've got you," he says, and he smooths my hair off my cheek. "Being with you makes me feel okay."

He's impossible to resist, and so I don't even try. I kiss him, and he draws me under him, cradling me in his embrace. We kiss and explore each other as though we've got all the time in the world.

Where last night satiated the sexual chemistry between us, we're drawing comfort from each other now with soft kisses and gentle touches. Everything in me grows warm and liquid with desire.

When he rises off the couch to scoop me into his arms and to carry me upstairs, my chest swells with an emotion I know I shouldn't feel—not this soon, and it would be better if I didn't feel it at all. Though this intensity has been rare for me, I've been in enough relationships to understand that feelings can't be checked or diminished just by wishing it so.

But I can't help searching for a way to keep a small piece of myself protected. Whatever happens between us from here on out, my heart is involved. And so even as he worships my body, drawing me to the edge and over with his hands and words and tongue, I brace myself for the heartbreak to come.

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