breathing faster than it should’ve been. “Honey, do you know where Daddy is?”
“I’m out here.” His voice came from the kitchen.
Ashley could’ve collapsed there on the floor. He was okay … he wasn’t passed out near the fishpond or drowning in the water or suffocating in the bathroom or —
“Mommy.” Devin scrunched up his face, curious. “You still look scared.”
She forced a quick laugh and stooped down to his level. “No, buddy … I’m fine. I just want to talk to Daddy.”
Her son had always been perceptive, but at times like this Ashley wished he might not grasp her emotions so completely. “No, sweetie. Nothing scary.” In light of his concerns, Devin looked afraid now too. She put her hands on either side of his face and kissed the tip of his nose. “Everything’s fine, Devin. Really. Go back and watch the movie with your sister.”
After a few seconds he smiled at her, but his eyes still held a slight doubt. Then he ran off to the family room to do as she asked. Ashley felt foolish for overreacting, but this was the pattern lately. She would go about the house finding him every half hour or so, just to make sure he was breathing. Usually she tried to be discreet, but today … with her imagination getting so far ahead of her … she had let her fear practically consume her.
“Ashley?” Landon sounded slightly frustrated. “What did you want?”
She walked to the kitchen and found him sitting at the kitchen table, staring out the window to the backyard, a cup of hot coffee in his hands. He glanced at her but only for a moment. “I agree with Devin … you sounded terrified.” He took a slow sip of his coffee. “We’ve gone over this, Ash.”
Irritation rose within her, more at herself than at him. “I’m sorry.” She took the seat beside him and touched his shoulder. “Can you look at me, Landon? Please.”
He sighed and turned his chair so he could see her. “What … you were upstairs painting and you had the sudden thought that I was … I don’t know … pruning the rosebushes and an asthma attack came over me and dropped me to the ground?”
She managed a sheepish shrug. “I was thinking the fishpond.”
His almost-angry look softened. For a long time he looked at her, searching her eyes as if he was trying to understand what made her worry the way she did. But then he chuckled in defeat and looked down at his coffee. “I’m fine.” His eyes found hers again. “The doctor said I can resume normal activity.”
“But … you’re still coughing.” Her voice was soft. She didn’t want to push the matter or make him angry. They’d never had to worry about tension between them, not in all their lives until now. “Doesn’t that mean the inhaler isn’t working … or the steroids need to be stronger?”
“No. It means my lungs are still healing.” He sounded tired, weary. “We can’t do this, Ash.” He shook his head. “Talk about my breathing … my lungs … my asthma. Every hour of the day … every day of the week.” His shoulders sank some. “I can’t do it.”
“I’m sorry.” She ran her fingers along his shoulder, his back. “I’m trying to learn how to live with all this and … I guess it’s just hard.”
“It’s hard for me, you mean.” He waved his hand toward the family room. “Your life is just as it always was. Working with the kids, teaching them how to read and color and taking them on play dates with your sisters.” He took another drink of his coffee. “You’re still painting and running our home and doing everything you ever did.” He wasn’t angry with her — she knew him that well. But his voice was louder than before. “Have you thought about me? I’m supposed to be out there fighting fires, protecting the city, and rescuing people.” He set his coffee cup down a little too hard and rocked his chair back onto its back legs. Then he stood and paced to the sink and back to the table. “Look at me, Ashley … I’m going stir-crazy and I’ve only been home two weeks. I feel like I’m … like I’m useless.”
She wasn’t sure what to say, but she had to try. “What about the vacation idea?”
“That’s ridiculous.” This time his response was more of a yell. “Ashley, they’re telling me