Cinder by Ashes Read online

  “I’m training for the Olympics. In wrestling.”

  My eyes widened. At school, one of the girls had teased me about my brother being a wrestler on WWE. I’d never seen him when I tried to tune in, but I asked, “Were you on TV two months ago?”

  “It was a short contract, but then I’m taking time off to train for the Olympics as I qualified in the freestyle match already. Ultimately, my goal is to get into the WWE permanently, but I want an Olympic medal first.”

  “But the Olympics were postponed.”

  “Yeah, but now that we’re done social distancing, they’ve been rescheduled, which means I’m in Florida for my professional contract appearances, but I’ve also hired a private coach to help me train for the Olympics.”

  My father and Stone used to watch every episode of the WWE together in the life before Lana came into our lives.

  But I bit my lip as no one knew what would happen next for the Tokyo games. My skin had pins and needles as I asked, “What if they’re canceled again?”

  He groaned and said, “Let’s hope they’re only delayed. I can’t afford to take too much time off my pro career.”

  Changing the topic, I asked in a whisper, “How did you get my number?”

  “Coco gave it to Vanessa, and she called me.”

  Vanessa had been Stone’s girlfriend years ago. I’d not seen her in ages, but it was nice to know she’d not forgotten me. Five years of being alone had made me numb when I remembered my past. I rocked on my feet and said, “Coco helped make staying here with them tolerable.”

  “So, what do you want?”

  To have my brother in my life, in person. And to finally get my independence. I’d not bother him or crash into his life. He had already given me the best gift by calling me. I said, “I want us to keep in touch. I’ll sell mom’s soaps for seven more weeks, and then never come back here.”

  “Well, if you change your mind, I’m flying into Pittsburgh from Baltimore for a match.”

  So much for being an hour away. I took the gardening tools and set them out as I asked, “Is that where you are now?”

  “I’m in an airport lounge, but in an hour or so, I’ll be in Pittsburgh for the weekend for a match.”

  That explained the offer. But he was only here for a little while. I put on my gardening shoes and said, “When you get here, I want to see you again, Stone.”

  “Name the place and time.”

  The buzzer cracked in the air and I put my phone down like she’d caught me. But Lana’s voice only said, “Emily, clear away this breakfast and have dinner ready when we get home.”

  My pulse quickened. I was slow today. So I held the phone up again and said quickly, “I’ll text. I have to go.”

  “I’ve missed you, Sis.”

  “I’ve missed you too, Stone.” Then, I hung up the phone and started pruning the plants. The dishes could wait a few more minutes.

  The smell of the green earth kept me peaceful and helped me focus.

  In a few weeks, this would never be my chore again. But making soaps had brought income into my life that I’d saved to go to college.

  The rent Lana charged me for this piece of property was high, but I managed to keep some of the profits. I needed that money to ensure the transition to college was smooth.

  Sure, part of me wished I could upend my life and take off to live with my brother, but I’d learned over the years that I could get through life with Lana. And, I wasn’t sure what Stone was like anymore. At least I knew what to expect if I spent seven more weeks here. But it was nice to have a backup plan, just in case Lana decided to toss me out on my ear.

  For once I wasn’t completely alone. This was enough.

  Chapter 2

  Jesse Donovan

  Another day in fucking paradise, right? Birds sang outside my suite in my parents' Beverly Hills estate. For a few minutes, I just lay in bed and did nothing. Honestly, I didn’t have to get up if I didn’t feel like it. I could do anything I wanted, and I have, all my life.

  I flipped open the autobiography beside my bed to read a quote from Mother Teresa. Being unwanted, unloved, uncared for, forgotten by everybody, I think that is a much greater hunger, a much greater poverty than the person who has nothing to eat.

  The words stung like a bee that pierced the skin, though I knew she hadn’t meant me. My life was the dream, right? It was fucking perfect.

  I closed the book and shook my head. In seven weeks, my life would change. Austen was going to be the first place where no one would take one look at me and say, “Jesse Donovan, spoiled and rotten.”

  In seven weeks, I’d get the fuck out of this life for a few years. Sure, I was bringing my unlimited credit cards and my well-padded inheritance and moving into a secure condo instead of blending in with the other students on campus, but this was the best deal my father and I could agree on.

  The smile on Mother Teresa’s face haunted me from the book cover, though. If I ever wrote my own autobiography, it would feature a lot more fucking, drinking and not caring about anyone or anything.

  And besides, my life wasn’t the kind people like Mother Teresa hoped to save. Mine was the kind good people hated.

  Most every girl with a pulse who I encountered teased me with winks and laughs to spark out my wild side. Yeah, I knew whoever the girl was, she eventually hoped I’d be her Prince fucking Charming. And I wasn’t going to be that for anyone. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have real friends, and people I knew for a fact cared about me.

  And not my wallet.

  I stretched and got out of bed. Sure, I was self-indulgent, but I’d never been anywhere where my name didn’t precede me.

  Or, my rotten reputation. With a snap of my fingers, or more likely with a single text, anything I’d want would be delivered to me.

  The strangest thing I’d ever ordered, according to my socialite mom, were my bees.

  A few years back, I’d read they were endangered. I lived in a mansion, so transforming the greenhouse none of us used had been my way of giving back to the world that let me have everything.

  I showered and let the rain feature relax me.

  Until I left for Austen, I was still the recent high school graduate, Jesse Donovan, whose fake friends texted regularly. Russ had let me know that there was a party tonight. I might skip it, though. I wanted to finish reading that book. I wanted to know how the old woman actually helped people.

  Giving back to people, in my experience, had never helped them. But she didn’t mean just buying someone something they wanted or said they needed. Yet, there was something about wanting something so bad that you go and get it. I wished I had the drive of the hungry.

  I’ve never known that feeling. Was it as delicious as it sounds?

  Besides, parties were lame these days. And, despite the rumors, I actually hated drugs, though for years, I'd indulged myself with a beer as my friends wasted their lives.

  I’d always wondered what life would be like if I could choose my own adventure. Once I went to Austen, I’d at least have a taste of that freedom.

  My phone pinged as I air dried and picked out a polo shirt from my closet. Royal blue fit my mood: monotonous but indulgent, like my life.

  Helen. Eggplant, peach, water emojis. Again. I thought about ignoring her. She knew we had no strings.

  But it was easier to talk to Helen than to Russ. Russ would talk about the party, and sex, and drugs. And then, once he had two of his daily goals, Russ would talk about how he hated his life and thought about committing suicide.

  I couldn’t help him.

  I can’t even help myself. I wrote back to Helen and hoped she held some answer to my life, though I knew she wouldn’t. Be at my pool. 20 minutes.

  She sent a dancing girl emoji. Perhaps a fast fuck might be useful in getting the cobwebs out of my brain.

  I picked up the book and scanned for another quote from Mother Teresa. It is a kingly act to assist the fallen.

 
The fallen were the only people I ever met, including my friends and probably me, too. The book made me wonder if I should feel guilty for not helping them, but then I can’t even help myself. I just hoped that one day I would want something so deeply that I would know how to go after it.

  Helen wasn’t the girl I wanted to spend more time with. I’d tell her today. Maybe that was the message: Cut my strings over these next few weeks.

  My father would probably tell me to do her before I cut her loose, but fuck that. She was no lady, but I needed to be different.

  My new life seemed so far away still.

  My house slides flopped on the marble floors as I went downstairs to get my breakfast. I stalled in the dining room as my mother, Maggie, was still there. She waved for me to join her and servants brought me cereal and coffee. She took my hand and asked, “Jesse, where were you last night?”

  She let me go again to check her makeup in a small mirror. I ignored the adrenaline in my veins. She didn’t care where I was. She never had. Our meeting this morning was accidental. I almost never saw her.

  I slumped in my chair and curled my lips up to show her my dimples. “Don’t worry about me, Mother.”

  She patted my cheek and put her makeup in her bag. “Your cousin is getting married this weekend. You’re expected to be there.”

  I only had one cousin and he hated being a Donovan. He was also twelve years older than me, so I suppose it was his time. I leaned forward and said, mostly to rattle my mother, “Did he knock up the wrong woman, or is this a political arrangement?”

  Her face went blotchy—which she’d hate for her friends to see—but she said, “Jacob believes he’s met the love of his life and he’s throwing quite a party in Napa. It’s going to be the wedding of the year.”

  My heart pounded like I was envious or something. I had no right to that feeling. I was just angry at my own life. So I winked at my mom like this was all some joke. “How provincial of him. Probably takes after that mother of his.”

  I’d even sounded like Maggie on that last sentence. I’d never met this aunt, but I’d heard my mother say how common she’d been. My mother kissed my cheek and stood to leave. “Don’t be rude. He’ll need family support.”

  “Whatever,” I said and sipped my coffee.

  "Wedding of the year" meant she wanted her picture taken there.

  She waved at me and said, “Look, I have to go. See you later.” But then she stopped and stared at me and, like she was daring me, she said, “Be good.”

  I put my coffee down and called out to her retreating form, “I never am.”

  She shook her head at me but continued on her way. Must be some women’s social club meeting day. I finished my dry cereal and coffee.

  Part of me just wanted to finish my rather good book and ignore the world.

  But Jesse Donovan was a star. Well, the fake version of me was a star, the one that played football, fucked every girl in sight, and was the exact copy of my father that I’d been trained to be. I ignored the passages from the book that replayed in my mind.

  Love wasn’t the answer. It never was. Women generally had their own plans and they acted like I’d never see through them because they were physically attractive. I trotted out to the mineral pool and Helen was there. In her bright yellow bikini. She had perfectly cut brown hair, brown eyes, and was skinny but curvy, which had made her the perfect cheerleader.

  She knew I wasn’t interested in a long-term relationship, but here she was anyway. She came over and took my hands. Ennui filled my soul. I knew that she only wanted me because of what my money might buy.

  “Jesse, there you are.”

  She squeezed our palms together and went up to kiss me, but I turned my head.

  “Where the fuck else would I be?”

  She knocked me back and I shrugged. I sat down and dipped my toes in the pool. She sat beside me and said, “You’re still an asshole.”

  I gave her the usual smile, with my damn dimples that always made women—even teachers—fan themselves. “You like it that way.”

  She let her toes curl in the water, but when she tried to brush her foot against mine, I moved. I’d tell her we were through and head back to my book that was clearly influencing me today. She pushed her hair behind her ears and curved her spine so her breasts in that bikini were even more obvious as she asked me, “So, will you miss any of us once you head off to Austen?”

  “Hell no.” Last night, I’d read another memorable quote in the book: If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other. But I didn’t belong with Helen, or this life here. I let out a sigh. I wasn’t sure what I wanted, but I knew what I didn’t want. “You’ll be here when I come back.”

  She pouted, pressing her lips out like she hoped to be kissed. I turned my attention to the distant sound of my bees. The one selfless act I’d ever done was ensuring bees had a safe place in our gardens. It also helped keep out unwanted trespassers.

  She splashed beside me and said, “I guess. Did you decide where you’ll live?”

  I didn’t want to give her my address. Unwanted visitors would unmask me at Austen. I shrugged and said, “My parents bought me a condo in Westerly. Three thousand square feet, with a terrace overlooking the hills.”

  She glanced around like we shared some secret. “That means you’ll have room for guests.”

  And be near the beach. I pulled off my shirt and slipped into the water, as swimming usually calmed my mind. “I won’t have time. There will be classwork.”

  “I guess.” She came into the pool after me, like she wasn’t done with our conversation. “I’ll miss you.”

  She came closer, but I swam away again. I’d made a mistake inviting her over. A swim would be the reward for this conversation, though. Once I’d ended whatever we were. I said, “You’ll miss how I pay for everything. I’m sure you’ll find your next meal ticket at USC.”

  She splashed me. “That’s so fucking rude, Jesse.”

  “It’s not like we were an item.” I stood and squared my shoulders. Helen needed the truth laid out for her, so I said, “I fully intend to sample the women in Westerly.”

  She swam over and wrapped her arms around me, pressing her breasts into my abs. “But you’ll come home to me.”

  “No.” I uncurled her from me and shook my head. “Our relationship isn’t like that.”

  She stood now. “I hate you.”

  Then, she stormed out of the pool as I called behind her, “I know you do.”

  She took a heated towel from the bar and dried off. “At least I know some pretty little virgin will never steal you from me.”

  Helen had known what she wanted the moment she squeezed my ass at one of our senior parties a few weeks ago.

  I stayed in the pool as she grabbed her clothes and just said, “Virgins are fun to spoil.”

  She crossed her arms. “You mean ruin.”

  I swam closer to her as she needed to know the truth. About us. About me. I said, “Look, I’m leaving this weekend, so it’s better if you and I don’t fucking see each other ever again.”

  Her hands curled at her sides and she ground her teeth. “You’re seriously an asshole.”

  “Goodbye, Patches!” I called after her. They’d given her that nickname in school because of the way she blushed, and I knew she hated it.

  She held up her middle finger and said, “Fuck off.”

  Then, she strode off across the lawn. I swam again, feeling more relaxed. In the distance, I heard my bees. Bees were interesting, as they all served the one queen. Maybe Mother Teresa’s comment in that book about us belonging to each other was for people who were worker bees. But I wasn’t raised to be anything other than a king. So I’d never know the feelings she talked about in the book. It would never be my life.

  Chapter 3

  Emily Steel

  My back had dried sweat on it from standing up all day and presenting Meredith soap.

  This was m
y mother’s company and she’d named it after herself. Now, I ran the business, though Lana taxed me pretty heavily. She had grounded me when I’d started using a community garden nearby to grow what I needed. So I grew all the ingredients on her land, and paid for the privilege.

  But I still earned pocket money, and that was how I paid for college applications and other small things I needed to buy through the years. And my twenty-five percent meant I had saved enough to buy my bus ticket to Austen.

  Once I’d finished packing my left-over supplies onto the cart that was attached to my bicycle, I leaned against a tree and checked my messages.

  Austen had emailed. My heart lifted as I read the orientation package.

  My first college assignment. Sure, it wasn’t for a class, but there was a worksheet and a name.

  My heart strummed with anticipation that soon something better would be coming into my life when I lived on my own. The email had been sent hours ago. My feet danced a little, but I clamped down on my nerves, read the five questions, and called the name on the worksheet.

  Who knew where Jesse Donovan might live? If I waited for him to call, it might be too late, then I might not be able to get the answers in on time.

  Luckily, on the first ring, the phone clicked on the other end and a male voice said, “Hello.”

  My first contact with another Austen student. I stared at the red sky of the summer evening and smiled. “Hi, I’m Emily. We were paired for orientation.”

  The sexy voice on the other end asked, “At Austen?”

  I don’t call guys, well, ever. Hopefully he was smart and nerdy and safe to meet in person eventually. I massaged the back of my neck where the hairs were standing up and said, “Yeah. Look, the emailed directions gave me your number and basically said we’re to talk on the phone to answer five questions, and not just email them.”

  I heard “hmm, hmm”, which is what I do when I'm reading. I decided to squat under the tree and enjoy this moment. Having new people to talk to was another sign that my life would be forever altered.