Page 1 of Ashes to Ashes

ChapterOne

Rae

My pencil scratchedacross the surface of the paper as I tried to re-capture the lyrics that had come to me while I’d slept.

I listen for your voice on the sound of thewind

But all I hear is the heartbreaking note of her laughter

I listen for your breathing as you sleep next tome

But all I hear is the ruin of my happy ever after.

When I’d woken up five minutes ago, I’d struggled to figure out where I was. Eventually, the stark white sheets, the smell of the stale air-conditioned air, and the bland, nondescript decor brought it all back. And that’s when it hit me all over again—my marriage was over and I had another fucking hangover to contendwith.

And that warm body across the bed, tangled up in those wrinkled white sheets? I didn’t have a clue who he was and, to be honest, I didn’t care. It didn’t matter since I wouldn’t see him again anyhow.

Logically, I recognized my behavior was dangerous and it could get me into real trouble, but I couldn’t seem to stop. Why should I? If word got out how I spent my nights, no one would be surprised since it’s what everyone already believed. So what if I’d been the only one faithful to my marriage? So what if Crawford Madigan, the man I thought had been the love of my goddamn life, had been having an affair with his co-star the entire time we’d been married? So what that his new fiancé had cheated on her husband, too, and now those two fucking hypocrites were on the cover of every shitty celebrity magazine that existed proclaiming their undyinglove?

None of it mattered because the world knew what they knew and that was that. Since I’d signed an iron-clad pre-nup that prevented me from discussing the reality around the dissolution of my marriage, I’d decided to live up to everyone’s expectations. I’d been surprised to discover I was actually good at it too. That was, assuming sex with random strangers and drinking my way across America could ever be considered good. But since it was the only thing I seemed to excel at lately, I kept on doingit.

At first it had filled the void Ford left in me, but now I was justnumb.

Standing on stage, in front of thousands of fans, I was able to pull myself together and give them a show worthy of the money they’d spent to be there. But the second my encore finished, I was back to nursing my broken heart the best way I knew how: through alcohol and sex. Every night a different city, a differentbed.

It wasn’t hard to find a man willing to fuck the woman who, up until a few short months ago, had been America’s country sweetheart. But when I sauntered up to a drunk, horny man and said, “I’m leaving in 10 minutes and I want you with me,” not many cared about who I’d been, or how far I’d fallen. Time and time again they were more than willing to indulgeme.

And that included the man in my bed right now. At least he’d been worth the effort, which wasn’t always the case. Actually, it wasn’t usually the case. You’d think night after night of mediocre sex would have put me off this path, but even when the sex was disappointing, at least I felt something.

I sighed and ran a hand through my tangled hair. The chorus had been so clear in my head in those hazy moments just before I woke, but the longer I sat here, the further away the words floated.

I try to recall the moment we … met(?)

And the beautiful words you spoke tome

But all I can remember is the moment yousaid

That some things just weren’t meant to be. [Not strong enough.]

I dream of thetime

With a groan of frustration, I dropped the pencil onto the bedside table, stood, and stretched. As my spine popped and settled, the bed springs whined and the stranger stirred.

“Good morning,” came his gravellyrasp.

I turned to face the man who’d been inside of me only a few hours earlier and tried to feel guilty. Guilty for what I’d done and for what I was about todo.

I watched as his eyes came to life and a satisfied smirk crossed his lips. Lips that were full and featured a cupid’s bow that shouldn’t work on a man yet somehow worked perfectly on this one. He was handsome and rugged and different from the type of guy I usually hooked up with. Briefly, I remembered asking what he’d been doing in that dark and dingy bar because he hadn’t looked like he belonged; hadn’t looked like he was running from himself or trying to escape his memories like the rest of ushad.

As I took him in, I tried to tell myself he was different from the others. Tried, and failed. Because with all the other men before him, I’d only felt a small spark of life. But when I’d been with him, it had been a thunderous explosion. The first time I’d come, I’d told myself maybe he was the one who’d be able to bring me back to life. But that had been last night, and I’d been drunk. Now, in the harsh light of day, I knew I’d been fooling myself. He wasn’t any more special than any of the others. He wasn’t the person who’d make me stop doingthis.

No one could do that but me—and I wasn’t ready for that justyet.

“I’m hopping in the shower. I expect you to be gone by the time I getout.”

“You not a morning person or something?” he asked, not quite getting that our time together was finished. He scratched his beard and when he realized I wasn’t kidding, his flirty smirk faded and his eyes dimmed. “You’re fucking serious, aren’tyou?”

“As a heart attack,” I confirmed, tossing him his shirt.

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