Rise from the Ashes (Ticket to the Stars #4)

Chapter One – Wren

Sometimes, when my guard is down, I catch myself thinking about that night. Parts of it are a blur to me now, but given the aftermath and the radio silence that followed the events of said night, it’s about all I can do.

I sang with Logan, AKA the guy I was ninety-nine percent sure was Pope from Black Sacrament, their disgraced former lead singer. The guy who got into hot water when he went on a drug-fueled rant while still wearing his stage makeup and mask, totally oblivious to the phones recording him.

And, you know, from what I remember, being up on that stage with him, singing one of Black Sacrament’s own songs with him, it was nice.

It was so much nicer than I thought it would be.

Our voices melded together, but his stuck out.

The gravelly, rough tone. The way he held onto that mic like he was crooning into your very soul.

Everything was great, but only for those three minutes.

Then, when he saw me staring at him, when he came back into himself and realized where he was—in front of a crowd of people in a karaoke bar—he stormed off. Hopped off the stage and made a beeline right for the door. I went after him.

That’s where things get fuzzy for me now.

I don’t really remember what was said. I just remember pain, both physical and mental. Whatever he said cut through me like a hot knife through butter. His words sliced me to the bone.

And then I got hit by a car.

I tried not to think too much about Logan while I was in the hospital, or when I went back to my life with a cast on. My parents tried to take me home with them, but I didn’t want to lose out on an entire semester, so I stayed with Sloane and Elias while I healed up.

Reese was somehow there that night; he witnessed the entire thing.

My intro to psychology professor turned into my savior, the calm, soothing voice I needed to get through.

He also helped me when it came to gathering everything I’d need to complete the semester online, talking to the other professors on my behalf.

He even let me duck out on the presentation I was supposed to do with Logan at the end of his class.

The psychology of avoidance. What a joke.

Needless to say, I haven’t seen or heard from Logan since that night. It’s fine, it really is. Though the details from that night are fuzzy, I know he hurt me. He might not have hit me with his car, but he proved to me just how big of a jerk he is and that me liking him at all was beyond stupid.

A girl like me could never end up with a guy like him.

Really, the only good thing about it all is that I haven’t had much time to think about my cheating ex and my ex-best friend. I’ve been so wrapped up in the current state of my life that my pathetic ex hasn’t once crossed my mind.

Now, Logan, on the other hand? As much as I wish it wasn’t so, he still lingers in my head even though I swear on my life I hate the guy. It’s why I sometimes think back to that night, when I’m alone in bed, and play out a lonely game of what-if.

What if he didn’t storm away from me? What if we finished the song and had a heart-to-heart conversation afterward?

What if he took me by the hand, pinned me against the wall, blocked out the rest of the world with his wide, muscular shoulders, and told me he loved singing on that little stage with me?

And then, inevitably, it always leads to: what if he kissed me?

Would we be together now? Would he change his ways for me?

It’s an appealing thing. Girls always want the playboy partier to change for them, for their love to be different, unique, one of a kind.

If the playboy can change for her, then that means they’re meant to be.

But that’s not reality, and if there’s one thing I am, it’s a realist. As depressing as being a realist can be, stuff like that is for the movies and books.

My life might’ve gotten exciting there for a little bit, but it’s nowhere near movie-level.

I don’t expect someone like Logan to ever turn a new leaf and change for me.

I might’ve been naive before walking in on my ex and ex-best friend doing it, but I’m not so naive now.

At least, I’m trying not to be. It’s hard when I’m alone in the darkness. Trying not to think about Logan pretty much means I think about him all the time. Though it’s been months, though a new semester is starting in less than five days, it’s like I’m still caught in that jerk’s web.

I hate him, I do, but I also hate that I don’t hate him enough.

It’s a new year, though, a new semester. You know what they say, right? New year, new me. That’s going to be my philosophy going forward. I don’t want to spend all of my time thinking about a stupid guy who clearly doesn’t give a shit about me. No, it’s time for me to move on, somehow.

I just… I don’t exactly know how I’m supposed to move on yet. I’m sure it’ll come to me.

Thursday morning I sleep in, but when it’s time to get up, I roll out of bed, throw on some clothes, and head downstairs, where I find Sloane sipping her cappuccino.

She got one of those fancy machines that cost a wicked ton so she doesn’t have to constantly get her caffeine fix elsewhere.

Elias, her boyfriend, is nowhere to be found; I assume that means he’s already downstairs, working out.

The man is a beast.

Sloane wears pajamas that I know cost more than my entire wardrobe. Her blond hair is straight and falls well past her shoulders, although there are a few kinks in it from how she slept last night. Her green eyes are bright and alert, and she spots me over her cup. “Morning, sleepy head,” she says.

“Morning,” I say, going for some water in the fridge.

I could go for some pancakes, but I don’t really feel like cooking, so I settle for a bowl of dry cereal.

Soon enough, I’m sitting on a stool at the island, a few feet away from her.

After months of healing and some physical therapy, I can pretty much move and bend my arm however I want.

Every so often, it gets a little stiff, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.

Besides, it’s winter out there now, which means big, puffy jackets to protect from the cold. Those coats stop some movements all by themselves.

“Excited for a brand-new semester to start?” she asks me, the corners of her lips tugged into a sly smile, as if she already knows the answer.

The old me would’ve said yes, because the old me loved the opportunity to learn new things.

I enjoy doing schoolwork, taking tests, and actually putting in the work to write papers—cheating in any way is not on my radar.

As far as I’m concerned, I don’t get why anyone would go to college just to use stupid AI to skate by.

It’s not right, not to mention how expensive it is to be here.

But the new me… the new me isn’t so much looking forward to the new semester. After spending the holidays with my family and coming back here a few days ago, the whole place just doesn’t have the same sparkle to it.

Or maybe that’s me. Maybe I’m still a bit depressed after what happened that night with Logan.

I mean, what kind of jerk do you have to be to not come visit me in the hospital and make sure I’m all right? Ugh, I shouldn’t think about it, or about him. It’s nothing but a waste of time. Logan made it clear he doesn’t care about me, so I need to do the same.

When I don’t answer her right away, Sloane sets her cup down and says, “I take it by your silence, you’re not. I thought you’d be happy to start going back to class. I thought being stuck here doing all your work and studying drove you nuts.”

She’s not wrong. I pretty much locked myself in this house last semester, when it was all said and done. Occasionally I had to go out and take some tests, but luckily I got by with Reese’s help.

Reese. I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done if it wasn’t for him.

Unlike Logan, he’s a good one. Or, at least, I think he is.

I never had to ask Reese for help, he was just there, offering it, spending all of his free time to make sure I had everything I could possibly need.

I haven’t spoken to him since before the holidays, which feels weird to me.

What’s even weirder is that he’s not going to be my professor anymore. He’s still teaching at MSU, but not any of my classes.

I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m just nervous, I guess.” With a shake of my head, I mutter, “It’s stupid, but I think I feel worse about this semester than I did in the fall when I first met you.” I don’t have to say his name for her to know who I’m talking about.

Sloane frowns. “Fuck that Logan asshole. He’s rotten to the core. You’re so much better than him, Wren. You shouldn’t waste your time thinking about him—I bet he hasn’t spent a single second thinking about you.”

She’s never made her hatred of Logan a secret. She never liked him from the beginning, not really. Her favorite adjective, rotten, has been used countless times to describe him and everything he does, and that word is reserved for the worst of the worst.

“I know,” I whisper. “I’m trying. I’m not saying I want to see him, I just…

” I bring my elbows to the island and set my head in my hands, digging my fingers through my hair.

I need to shower. Its brown length is looking more black with grease than anything else.

“It’s like I went from obsessing over my ex to obsessing over Logan, like I can’t help it. ”

Sloane purses her lips in thought. “You need to stop being so serious. It’s not good for you. Weren’t you just saying new year, new you? You need to put in the work so it’s true.”

“I don’t know how.” It’s a nice thought, in theory, the new year, new me thing, but it’s a lot more difficult to put it into practice.

I’m not the kind of girl who can just let loose whenever I want, someone who can close my eyes and forget about all the anxieties and regrets pressing down upon me at every turn.

My head? Not the best place to be.