Ashes & Embers Series Collection (Books 1 to 4)

by Carian Cole

  I stare at this stranger who has taken over my husband’s body. “More? What does that even mean? We have two beautiful children and a nice house. Both of us have good jobs. We’ve been in a relationship for twenty years, eighteen of which we’ve been married! We have everything you’ve said you always wanted. What more do you want?”

  His face contorts with exasperation and confusion. “I don’t know, Ivy. This is hard for me, too. I love you and the kids. I’m very torn. I just . . . I don’t even know how to explain it. I guess I just want something different. When I met Charlene, it’s like everything I thought I wanted…changed. I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “That’s just great. I’m glad to hear that Charlene has led you to the path of true happiness and saved you from your boring, torturous life here with your family. I’m sure her sexy body had absolutely nothing to do with any of it.” I hurl my tissue into the small garbage pail next to the nightstand.

  “That’s not true, and I didn’t mean it like that. Maybe because I’ve only ever been with you, I got restless. Don’t you ever wonder what it would be like to be with someone else?”

  I turn to stare at him. “So you got bored sleeping with me and had to have some twenty year old? Someone you could fuck so hard they couldn’t walk? Is that what you said to her? When did you become a pig? And no, I’ve never thought about being with another man. Unlike you, I’ve always been more than happy with exactly what I have, even though you’ve never fucked me so hard I couldn’t walk. In fact, most times, you can barely stay awake to finish the job.”

  He winces at my comment but reaches for my hand. I quickly pull away. “Don’t touch me, Paul.”

  “I’m trying to apologize.”

  “Don’t. That’s not even possible. What are you going to do now? What do you want?” I repeat.

  He sighs and looks around our bedroom like he’s never been here before. “I don’t think it’s right for me to stay here anymore with all this going on. I’m going to leave and come back tomorrow to pack some things, and if it’s okay with you, I’ll come back with a truck next weekend for the rest of my stuff. We should probably talk to a lawyer. I promise I’ll take care of you and the kids. You don’t have to worry.” I can tell by the way he’s talking that he’s thought about all of this before. He’s mulled it around in his mind, trying to figure out what to say and what to do, and now he’s just reciting it.

  Divorce. He’s divorcing me. And I don’t have to worry. He doesn’t even want to try to make our marriage work. I am floored that he can throw eighteen years of marriage away over some girl he barely knows, who is only a few years older than his own daughter.

  I shake my reeling head slowly. “Just like that? We’re over? You don’t even want to try to fix this? We could try couples therapy. Lots of people do that. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, and they’re very discrete—”

  “Ivy, I’ve been sleeping with another woman for a year. How do we fix that?”

  The brutality of his words stuns me. I lost a year of my marriage without even knowing it. How did I not know? How did I miss all the signs?

  “I thought you loved me.” My voice cracks. “I thought we loved each other.” I realize I sound pathetic, but I can’t stop the words that shoot from my heart to my mouth, no matter how much I don’t want to say them right now.

  “I do love you, but I somehow fell in love with her, too.” He walks slowly to the closet that we share and throws some clothes into his gym bag. “This has been a mess for me, too, Ivy. It’s been destroying me inside to lie to you for so long. I know you don’t deserve it, and I hate hurting you.”

  “Then why did you? Why couldn’t you just stay committed to us? Why would you let someone come between us?”

  He approaches me with his overstuffed bag in his hand. “I don’t know. I wish I had a better answer, but I don’t. I never wanted to hurt you. Ever. One thing just kept leading to another. You’re right—I should have stopped it. I’m an asshole. I know that.”

  “So you want to leave me and the kids? For her?” I demand.

  “Not for her. But for now, I think I need to leave. And I’m not leaving the kids. I’m still their father.”

  My heart cracks and shatters into a million little isolated memories of our life together, splattering like blood at a brutal crime scene. This will never be able to be cleaned up or put back together again. He’s obliterated it.

  His eyes are on me as I fall apart. I know he can’t see it, but all my hopes and dreams of growing old together with the man I love are climbing into that bag with him to be given to someone else.

  “Is it because I’m not as thin as I was?” I ask him, my voice shaking. “I can join a gym, buy new clothes—”

  “Ivy, God . . . no. You’re beautiful, and I still love you. It’s not that at all.”

  I shake my head slowly back and forth as I try to grasp what’s happening to us. “I just don’t understand what I did wrong.”

  He takes a few steps closer to me. “You didn’t do anything wrong, I swear to you. I didn’t plan it, and I wasn’t looking for it. Actually, she kinda reminds me of you when we were young. She’s happy and carefree. I like being with her and not having kids screaming and fighting, or on the other side of the bedroom wall, blasting video games and music. I’m sorry.”

  “You wanted kids, Paul. They make noise.”

  “I know that. But come on, Ivy. We had Macy when you were eighteen and I was nineteen. We were way too young to have a baby. We never got to enjoy ourselves or each other. And as soon as she was able to be by herself a little bit and not need one-hundred percent of your attention, Tommy came along. I guess I want to have fun for a little while, while I’m still young.”

  “You should leave now.” My voice is dull, lifeless. I refuse to look at him. I’ve had enough. His resentment toward his own family is making me hate him, and I want to inflict some sort of bodily harm on him.

  He hesitates for a moment and then just turns and leaves. His footsteps pound down the stairs, and the front door squeaks opens, then closes. His car door slams and then backs out of our driveway, the headlights flashing across the bedroom windows.

  And he’s gone. Just like that.

  I sit on the bed, staring at the wall in a daze, until the sun comes up, wondering what the heck just happened.

  CHAPTER 2

  LUKAS

  INSOMNIA IS A BULLY of the worst kind. Pushing me. Shoving me. Laughing in my face. Waiting ’til I feel safe and then kicking me in the skull. I fight back, but we all know how this story goes—the bully wins.

  So I lay awake, staring at my cathedral ceiling and feeling uncomfortable in my own bed. Not just because I can’t sleep, but because there’s a chick next to me that I know I’m never going to sleep with again. I want to love her. I should love her. She’s cute with a banging body and long silky black hair with blue highlights. Her eyes are like fucking sapphires, and she has a giggle that sounds like a demented elf. She’s a musician, like me, so she gets me. She knows when to stay and when to go away, and she sucks me like I’m a cherry lollipop.

  There’s just one thing that’s wrong.

  Rolling over toward me, her lips press against my cheek. “You’re so much nicer in bed than Vandal ever was.” I feel her lips turn into a smile as she snuggles against my shoulder.

  Yup. That’s the thing that’s wrong—she slept with my older brother a few times. Actually, I’m pretty sure sleeping wasn’t involved at all while he had her tied to his bed being vandalized, as he so nicely puts it. Even though I’ve tried, I just can’t get that out of my head. I don’t want to be second choice, or get my brother’s leftovers. Who would want to always be compared to his brother? I don’t want to be with a woman that Vandal has seen naked and violated. I want someone that’s just . . . mine.

  I sit up, slowly untangling myself from her, and try to find my clothes in the dark room.

  “Where you going?” Her hand lands on my back, her voic
e drowsy as she fights off sleep.

  I turn toward her, dreading that I’m going to upset her, but I feel like the band-aid ripping approach is probably best.

  “Rio, I can’t do this anymore,” I say softly.

  “Do what?”

  “This. Us.”

  Bolting up, she holds the sheet against her naked chest. “Why?” Her bright blue eyes darken.

  “I really like you. You’re one of my best friends . . . it’s just not going past that for me. I wish it was.”

  Her usually pretty face falls into a sad frown. “Lukas . . . I love being with you. Maybe we just need some more time. Don’t think about it going any further, just let it happen.”

  I slowly shake my head. “I won’t do that to you.” Standing, I pull on my jeans. “I’m sorry. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

  “That’s what I love most about you,” she says wistfully. “You’re the only one that actually cares and doesn’t treat me like a toy.”

  I hate that my brother has boned every chick within a hundred mile radius, and I hate myself even more for not being able to move past it.

  She crawls across the bed toward me, her long dark hair forming a silk curtain over her tits. “Lukas, it’s all right if you don’t love me. I can deal with that. Really.” Hope and desperation taint her voice, and it upsets me to hear that in her. She’s so much better than that; she just doesn’t know it yet.

  Picking her clothes up off my bedroom floor, I place them next to her so she can get dressed. “It’s not all right with me,” I say. “And you deserve more. Don’t settle, okay? You don’t have to. The right guy will come, trust me. And he’s going to be lucky as hell.”

  “I doubt it,” she replies, slipping her shirt over her head.

  “I’ll wait in the living room for you, and I’ll take you home.”

  “Lukas?” Her soft voice stops me before I get to the bedroom door. “There might not be a right one for any of us. Maybe that’s just a myth, ya know?”

  Maybe so, but I believe in the mythical and have faith in the legends of time. Fantasy drips through my veins. It’s what’s kept me alive.

  CHAPTER 3

  IVY

  IF SOMEONE HAD TOLD me a few months ago that my husband was going to leave me for another woman, I would have laughed in their face. To say I was completely blindsided would be an understatement. While Paul got to move in to a nice new condo, buy new furniture, date a pretty young woman, and start a new exciting life of fun with the bubbly, younger-me clone, my life turned into a mess of stress and confusion. It seems unfair to me, that he’s the one who did something wrong here, but I’m the one suffering. Having to tell our seven-year-old son and seventeen-year-old daughter that their father moved out was the worst thing I’ve ever had to do. How convenient that Paul didn’t have to see the shock and devastation on their faces or answer their endless questions.

  Having Paul in the house again a few weeks after he officially moved out to pack his things was another slam to my heart. He left almost everything that I mistakenly thought held meaning to us, or might hold some kind of sentimental value to him—wedding pictures, vacation pictures of us with the kids, and souvenirs from trips we took. He left paintings and decor items that we picked out together, even silly things we had from our first dates when we were in high school. I can’t understand why he wouldn’t want anything from our life together, as if he intends to just forget we were ever a couple.

  My best friend Lindsay has been coming over almost every day after work to check on me. I’ve never been depressed before, or had any reason to worry about my life and my future, but now, I’m consumed with it. Paul totally ripped the rug out from under me, and I’m feeling stuck in a sort of odd hazy limbo, unsure what I’m supposed to do next.

  “Sam has this really good looking friend who recently separated from his wife.” Lindsay gives me a sly grin while we sip coffee in my kitchen.

  I roll my eyes at her. “Lindsay, please. I don’t want to be set up on any dates, especially with someone who also just got separated, because he’s either been screwed over and is in a slump like me, or he’s the evil-doer. I don’t want any part of it.”

  “Live a little. You can’t sit in this house forever. You’re just getting more depressed and gaining weight. Don’t let that asshole win.”

  Her words hurt, even though I know she doesn’t mean them to be offensive. “Thanks, Lin. I gained ten pounds, not fifty. I’ll lose it.”

  “I know you will, hon. I’m just worried about you. I want you to be happy. The best way to get over someone is to get on top of someone else. You’re so pretty. Lots of men would love to hook up with you.”

  “Mommy, what’s hook up?” I look down at Tommy, who has quietly materialized next to me.

  I shoot daggers at Lindsay and stroke his head. “It means go to dinner, honey. Why don’t you go start your homework?”

  He makes a face and trudges off to the living room. As soon as he’s out of earshot, I turn to Lindsay again. “Please watch what you say around him. He’s really confused about what’s going on. And I’m not getting on top of someone else!”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t even see him come in. Why can’t your kids be noisy like mine?”

  “Trust me, they make noise. They’ve both been a little crazy since Paul moved out.”

  “They’ll adjust. That’s what kids do.”

  I rearrange the fruit in the bowl at the center of the table. “They want him to come back. They ask me all the time when he’s coming back home.”

  “And you? Do you want him to come back, too?”

  I focus on an apple and shrug. “I don’t know . . . maybe. I miss him. I miss our life together, having a partner. Or at least the delusion I had a partner, in my case. I don’t want to grow old alone.”

  “Ivy. No.” She pulls my hand away from the apple. “Stop touching the fruit and listen to me. I know you miss him and this whole thing sucks. You’re the sweetest, most devoted person I’ve ever met. Don’t you dare let him come back after doing this to you. You have to focus on you now. You’ve never done that.” Her wedding rings dig into my fingers as she squeezes my hand. “You always put him first, and the kids first. Hell, you even put me first. You have to put you first now. You have to be Ivy without Paul, and I know that’s scary, but you have to find out who you are. Do the things you’ve always wanted to do. Color your hair, get your nails done, buy some funky clothes, get a puppy, get a tattoo. Get all the things you’ve always wanted but he didn’t like. Go out and let yourself meet new men. Let the real Ivy out. ”

  “You don’t think I’m real?”

  “Of course you are, but how many things have you not done because he didn’t like it, like not coloring your hair because he thought it was a waste of money? I want you to let the real you out now that you don’t have to worry about him censoring you.”

  I smile weakly at her. “I’ve always wanted to color my hair that pretty red color, or ombre, or whatever it’s called. And I’ve wanted a tattoo forever. And a puppy . . . I always thought the kids should grow up with a dog.”

  She grabs her purse and starts rifling through it, piling things onto the table as she rummages. “Go to the salon next week and get your hair and nails done. And . . . I have the perfect tattoo artist for you. I won this gift certificate, actually, for a tattoo with him. He’s a friend of a friend. His work is amazing. He mostly works on musicians and models and people like that, and I am now giving you my gift certificate.” She hands me the gift card and I take it hesitantly. “I want you to do this. For you.”

  I bite my lip as I stare at the card. “I don’t know, Lindsay. A tattoo . . . at my age?”

  “For the love of fuck, you’re thirty-six, not a hundred. Everyone has a tattoo.”

  “Who’s getting a tattoo?” Macy walks into the room and heads straight for the fridge, a beautiful blur of long light brown hair and big blue innocent eyes.

  “I’m trying to tel
l your mom she’s not too old for a tattoo,” Lindsay replies while stuffing her belongings back into her purse.

  Macy stares at me with her mouth open. “Mom! You’re getting a tattoo? That’s so cool. Can I get one too?”

  “Not until you’re eighteen.”

  She rolls her eyes dramatically. “Whatever. Can I go with you and watch?”

  “I’ll think about it. Do me a favor and go check on your brother. Make sure he’s okay with his homework.”

  “Don’t bring her with you,” Lindsay says when Macy leaves the room. “You need to do some things as you and not as Mom.”

  “Anything else? When did you become my life coach?” I tease, knowing she’s right. I need to learn to do things on my own as a single woman, and not as a wife or mother, which will be way easier said than done since I’ve been both since I was eighteen. I don’t know how to be anything else.

  She stands and comes around the table to give me a hug. “I don’t want you in a rut, that’s all.” She pulls away and smooths my hair. “You’re so cute, Ivy. Please do the things we talked about. Now, I better head home and feed my family.”

  “Okay. I love you. Say hi to Sam and the kids for me.”

  “I will, and think about getting on top of someone else, too. A good sexy fling could really cheer you up.”

  “Go.” I point to the door, laughing at her.

  CHAPTER 4

  IVY

  YOU CAN DO THIS. You can do this. With each step from the parking lot to the sidewalk, I flip-flop back and forth between forcing myself forward to the studio and running back to my car, driving home, and spending the rest of the night eating ice cream while curled up in bed with a book.

  Just as Lindsay described, the building is very unique. It appears to have been a chapel or church at one point in its life, with grey stone exterior, stained glass windows, and a steeple on the roof. A stone sign on the front lawn has Hearts & Arrows Tattoo Studio engraved in large flourishy, old English lettering that appears to be made of old wrought iron pieces. My heels click on the slate walkway as I approach a huge red wooden door with metal gothic accents. Taking a deep breath, I push the heavy door open, a cowbell announcing my entrance. I wince at the sound. No turning back now.