From Our Ashes (Fire Between Us #2)

Prologue

ETHAN

Just for a little while…

The words pulled me slowly back into consciousness, echoing in my head before slipping away from memory. Like a dream you can’t quite hold on to—right at your fingertips, but… not.

My hands brushed the headboard as I stretched my arms above my head, the dull ache in my back and neck tightening before it eased. I rolled onto my side and spotted my phone beside me on the mattress. Not plugged in, just lying there—accusing.

Another night spent falling asleep clinging to images that were already starting to blur.

I tried to resist. A minute, maybe two. Probably closer to five seconds before I reached for it. The screen unlocked with my face, and sure enough, there he was—his picture waiting for me.

Sebastian.

He was so handsome.

It was the last photo he’d sent. I’d asked what he was doing, and he’d replied with a selfie.

The background was dark, his face lit only by the bluish glow of his computer.

The shadows carved deeper lines into his features, sharpening the cut of his jaw.

One brow was arched, his lips mostly serious—just a hint of a smile curving at the corners.

He was wearing a white button-down, collar undone, a few buttons left open.

The faint outline of a necklace peeked out from beneath the fabric, barely visible, but I’d obsessed over it anyway.

My hand lifted on instinct, fingers curling around my matching medallion.

He’s still wearing it.

That thought had kept me going these past weeks. Because that was how long ago he’d sent the picture—three fucking weeks ago.

Three weeks of one-word answers. Three weeks of silence where there used to be good-morning texts and late-night calls. Three weeks of the ache in my chest burrowing a little deeper every day.

Exhaling sharply, I flipped the phone face down, forcing myself out of bed and into the shower. It didn’t help. Not even finishing with a blast of cold water could clear my head. My hands still itched to reach for it, to check—pointlessly—if he’d texted.

Once I’d changed and gathered my things, I slipped out of the apartment, making sure to leave before Maya woke up. She’d been mother-henning me a little too much lately, and I was getting sick of it.

Ten minutes later, as I walked to my first class with the frigid winter air biting at my skin, I caved.

Me

hey

I shoved the phone back into my pocket and waited for the vibration. It didn’t come.

By my second class, I’d bitten my nails raw, anxiety coiling heavy inside me.

I should just delete the fucking text. He probably hasn’t even opened it. But he must’ve seen the notification. Why the hell won’t he answer? What’s he doing? Who’s he with?

And why does it feel like I’m the only one still reaching out?

My phone buzzed, and I checked it in a hurry, my chest deflating when I saw it wasn’t from the Langley brother I wanted it to be.

Henny Langley

up for drinks? just landed

I tapped yes, then slipped the phone back into my pocket. As I did, I caught the eye of a girl staring straight at me. She turned quickly, whispering something to her friend before a wave of giggles broke out between them.

I pressed my back into the seat, trying to ignore it.

Fuck them.

I dragged my attention back to class, tuning out my phone, the laughter, and the doubt that had been building—steady and insistent—beneath my skin.

February.

Six months, and I still felt like this.

My grades were good—no, not just good. Since Sebastian left, they’d been fucking fantastic. Every bit of focus I had was going into them. Into myself. Into proving I could be more than what they all thought I was. More than the version of me he left behind.

Charlotte and Oliver had stepped in after both my parents stopped speaking to me—financially and otherwise.

The trust set up on my mother’s side would be released when I turned twenty-one, regardless of whether I had a relationship with them, and I did intend to use it.

It was mine. But I didn’t want to coast there.

Char was pregnant, and even though I knew the Langleys had more money than they could ever spend, it wasn’t Oliver’s responsibility to carry me until then. I needed to stand on my own two feet first—to prove to myself that I could.

And I could goddamn well do it. So as soon as I graduated—no, fuck that—before I did, I’d have a job, I’d have my trust, and I’d turn myself into a powerful man.

Just like him.

More than him.

Maybe then he’d actually answer my texts.

So I studied harder. Made sure I was at the top of all my classes and tuned out all the white noise around me.

When class ended, I walked up to the professor and asked about the last exam. He smiled and assured me I’d earned a top grade. Something like pride curled in my chest—right up until someone slammed into my shoulder.

It was one of the girls from before. She was smirking, her friends trailing behind.

“Looking for a hot date?” she whispered, her gaze flicking to the professor and then back to me before she walked away.

Heat crawled up my neck, and I pressed my lips into a hard line to keep from answering.

Not for my sake—I didn’t give a fuck what they thought about me.

But I actually liked Professor Flintwood.

He was almost seventy and married, and the last thing he needed was me handing them more gossip.

After all, every time I opened my mouth, it turned into another rumor.

“Is everything alright, Mr. Bennett?” he asked.

I gave him a tight smile. “Everything’s fine.”

When I stepped out of the classroom, my phone vibrated again.

Creep

hey

That was it. Almost four fucking hours, and all I got was a hey.

I stared at the screen until the letters blurred and my lungs felt too tight for air.

Doesn’t matter. Don’t care. You’re doing fine. You have a whole life that isn’t tied to him anymore. Remember?

But my thumb hovered over the keyboard like it had a mind of its own—itching to type, to poke, to pull a reaction out of him. Pathetic.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

Another sharp laugh drew my attention to a group of girls, the same ones from the classroom. They weren’t even looking my way, but my blood was already boiling. One more word from them and I knew I’d snap.

I quickened my pace, trying to avoid them, but they were directly in my path. Just as I was about to pass, one of them spoke. “Bet he can’t pay what Sebastian Langley could.”

I stopped. My jaw twitched.

Okay. No. Absolutely not.

So much for Bennett politeness.

Turning around, I walked straight back to them. One girl looked away, but I knew exactly which one had opened her mouth.

I smiled, slow and sweet. “Where do you want me to sign?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Well, you’re clearly obsessed with me and who I’m fucking,” I said with a shrug. “So I figured, autograph?”

Her friend’s eyes went huge.

“I’m not—”

“I don’t do it for free, though. But you already knew that, right?” I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “Honestly, you don’t look like you can afford me. But I’m feeling charitable.”

An offended scoff left her. “Could you be any more arrogant?”

“It’s not arrogance, sweetheart. It’s confidence. The same confidence that got me Sebastian in the first place.” I tilted my head. “Which is what’s been killing you, right? Lying awake, wondering why he wanted me and not anyone else.”

Their faces were priceless—insulted, curious, furious.

“Here’s the secret,” I said. “You’re never going to know. Because it’s not your fucking business. So maybe focus on your own technique and stop obsessing over mine.” I turned on my heel before I said something truly unhinged, forcing my walk to stay calm and not a full-on stomp.

It wasn’t even about them. Not really. But they’d lit the fuse, and I was done pretending I didn’t want to burn something down.

Hey? Was he fucking kidding me?

I was the one getting all the backlash. Being called a rent boy four times a day.

Being the laughingstock of this school. Being exiled from every family gathering—except ones the Langleys hosted.

And I could handle it. I could. Because at least it was real.

But lately, I was starting to fucking doubt it.

Three weeks of unsatisfying replies. Three weeks of ignored calls. Three weeks of excuses about why we couldn’t make plans. And if I was being honest with myself, his affection had started fading even before that.

I knew it was over. We’d agreed to that at the end of September. But did that mean we couldn’t even be friends? We’d been talking almost every day since he left. So what changed? What happened now? Had he found someone else already?

The thought hit low, burning like acid in the pit of my stomach. I hated how fast it spread, how quickly it twisted everything inside me.

By the time I got back that evening, I was drained. I mumbled a greeting to Maya, closed my bedroom door behind me, and curled up on my side on the bed. My fingers found the medallion at my neck, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

This wasn’t fair.

I missed him. So much. So fucking much. And it hurt, damn it.

Pulling out my phone, I stared at our chat. At that stupid, meaningless hey. Pain and longing swirled violently through me. I blinked furiously and started typing.

Me

I have spring break coming up

how about a getaway?

I stared at the screen.

He read it. Started typing. Then stopped.

My thumb hovered over the keyboard as I bit back the urge to remind him I’d grown my hair out—how he’d been the one to ask me to. A hollow laugh slipped past my lips. Get a fucking grip.

Creep

I’m sorry darling

don’t think I can

building a company remember?

It felt like a blade twisting deep. Of course. Because work always came first, didn’t it?

Fuck him. Fuck this.

I stared at the blinking cursor, my heart pounding, fingers trembling over the screen. And then I typed.

Me

I can’t keep doing this Ash

I’m done

A second later, a call came through. I shut my eyes tightly and scrubbed my face, willing away the wave of angry tears.

My phone kept vibrating, and I took a deep breath before answering.

“Pet—”

“Don’t fucking talk.” I cut him off before he could finish. I couldn’t listen to him. His voice was my undoing. He was my undoing.

A hard exhale came from the other end of the line, but he said nothing.

“I’m blocking your number. I don’t want this half-in, half-out bullshit, Ash. It fucking hurts. This hurts worse than you leaving.”

Nothing.

“I want you gone from my life. For real. Don’t call.

Don’t text. Don’t come to the city. I need you to stop existing so I can fucking breathe again.

” My heart cracked a little more, but I knew this was what I needed.

I needed to kill the hope that he was going to come back for me—that he still wanted to.

“Please.” The word left me as a whisper, stripped of strength.

The silence stretched again—heavier this time.

Oppressive.

Final.

“Okay.” His rough voice tightened the vice already crushing my heart.

That was it.

No fight. No I’m sorry. No I love you. Just one word that ended everything instead.

I hung up before I could change my mind, doing exactly what I’d said. Erasing him from my life. This time, for good.

For a moment, I just sat there. My chest felt like it was folding in on itself. It didn’t feel real—and maybe that was the cruelest part. That something this devastating could happen in less than a minute.

I curled onto the bed, my hand clamped around the medallion in a death grip. One tear slipped free. One.

But no more.

I wasn’t going to keep crying over Sebastian Langley.

Unclasping the chain from around my neck, I pulled open the drawer of my bedside table and thrust it inside before slamming it shut.

Then I fell back against the mattress.

Turns out, waiting a few years was impossible. The things we’d said to each other months ago meant nothing now. The distance had broken us—and not the fucking ocean. The distance he’d always insisted on keeping between us. The emotional one.

I should’ve learned my lesson.

Don’t be the one who cares more.

Don’t be the one who waits.

If you don’t let people in, they can’t turn around and choose someone else.

I stared down at my open palm, the curve of the medallion’s “C” imprinted deep in my skin. My only consolation was that it would fade.

One day, this would fade.