BLIND: A Mastermind Novel (49 page)

“Hey, it’s fine. We were all kids. Elliot’s just being a dick. Here.”

She wiped her eyes and glanced at the card in his hand. “What is it?”

“My business card. I wrote Asher’s cell number and address on the back.”

The breath knocked out of her lungs. Just like that, everything she’d wanted? It was surreal. Slowly, her fingers closed over the card and his grip tightened, not letting her take it. She whimpered. Another trick?

“Do you love him?
”
Jet asked.

She stared at him, unsure how to answer such a personal question.

“It’s a simple question,
”
he said. “Maybe there could be a simple solution to all of this if people started telling the truth and being okay with who they are.”

She swallowed, and rasped, “Yes. I love him.
”
A tear tripped down her cheek as his fingers released the card.

“Then tell him. He’s falling apart without you and we all want to see our friend whole again.”

A chilling calm came over her as he walked away.
He’s falling apart…

Was that true? Did she really mean something to him? Had he been suffering the same as she’d been? Her fingers turned over the card and there was his contact information. Should she call?
Could
she forgive him?

She wasn’t sure what any of this meant, but she was beginning to understand the man behind Mr. Stone. Just like her, he had insecurities weighing him down. It didn’t excuse his actions, but it explained a whole lot.

What she couldn’t comprehend was why a man like Asher would feel the need for so much secrecy at this point in his life. He’d proven himself to the outside world. Opinions from assholes like Bobby Westerman shouldn’t matter anymore.

Asher was a very sexy man, so she couldn’t imagine him doubting his desirability. There was a quiet magnetism about him that went beyond normal charm. So why hide who he was? She was exhausted with the guessing game.

It took her a minute--or twenty—to collect herself and put her car into gear. She’d typed his address into the GPS on her phone and there were only thirteen miles separating them. Thirteen. Miles.

Her heart pounded as she gripped the wheel and drove, teeth clenched the entire way. How many times had she traveled this road with Pennyworth? She laughed every time she spotted a landmark she recognized.

Their entire liaison seemed like an adventure in a far off fantasyland, but really they’d been in her neighborhood the whole time. How bizarre and
…
ordinary. They probably dropped their mail off at the same post office.

“You have arrived at your destination.”

She frowned and slowed the car. Where? There was nothing there.

Edging along the shoulder, she looked left and right. Tall willow trees grew sporadically on what appeared to be some sort of park. Hedges thickened where a sidewalk would fit, but there was no walk.

The dusk made it difficult to see. Creeping slowly down the road, she spotted a cement pillar, only about three feet tall. There was a stone drive. Was this it?

She frowned and looked at the card Jet gave her. Her eyes scoured the property for an address, or more sensible, a house. But there was nothing.

Turning onto the drive, she coasted slowly. The narrow path twisted like a road in a cemetery. She wanted to shut her eyes to see if any of this felt familiar, but that wouldn’t be wise.

Her car slowly climbed a grassy hill and the first traces of a home peeked over the horizon—no, scratch that. That wasn’t a house. She had to be on some sort of historic property the township owned. The castle like structure was impeccably maintained with plush gardens and freshly mulched beds.

“Is it a castle?
”
she mumbled as she followed the road onto a circular drive. Maybe it was a funeral home.

Two towers budded the enormous stone structure. The windows were old, detailed with metal glasswork. She slowed and stopped at the entrance, two wooden doors carved with great detail. Maybe it was a church.

She counted the steps. Ten. That’s how many it took for her to reach him. Was this where they’d had their fourteen encounters?

She shut off the car and waited. No other cars were visible. It was nearly eight o’clock at night. Shouldn’t he be home? If the place was vacant she might as well look around.

Climbing out of the car she shut her eyes and savored the familiar crunch of gravel under her feet. Her heartbeat quickened as she recognized the uneven press of the stones under her feet.

As she faced the steps she smiled. She hadn’t imagined anything quite this lavish, but the steps were fairly close to the set she’d pictured in her mind. Her eyes closed as her fingers dragged lightly over the cement banister. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. This was where he’d greet her.

Her heart sputtered as familiar excitement caught hold of her insides, tightening and tingling. Her lashes lifted. Alone.

Lowering her hand, she debated knocking. She thought about Elliot and the way he looked at her, despised her for things that happened twelve years ago, things she’d barely been aware of.

You knew.
The admission came out of nowhere, dark and shameful despite the privacy of her mind.

Memory after memory slowly crept in. Bobby had been awful, not just to her, but to everyone. Worst of all, was his treatment of Asher and his friends. She couldn’t tie the boy from high school with the man that called himself Mr. Stone. It was disorienting, trying to associate the two.

But there was the truth. They were one in the same. Her heart hurt every time she recalled a time she simply walked away as Bobby tortured some innocent bystander. She’d never know how awful he behaved in her absence. Thinking of Asher and Bobby now made her want to hit something.

Oh, God. I hit
him
. I punched the wrong asshole.

She contemplated her own students, so young and innocent, trying so hard to find him or herself, yet be like everyone else. Her heart broke whenever she caught a student being bullied or made fun of.

Mr. Stone had been made fun of. It was almost impossible to believe. Not only that, he’d been bullied, beaten black and blue by kids three times his size at the time.

Her fingers trembled to her lips as her vision blurred under unshed tears. She recalled the poems she often found in her locker. They were from
him
, not Bobby—though Bobby accepted her gratitude without objection. If only she’d known they weren’t from Bobby she might have had the courage to leave him. But each one touched her heart and served as a redeeming indication that Bobby might possess some loving traits. She should have known he was incapable of such sweetness.

Her throat dried as she tried to imagine how many times Bobby had tricked Asher in order for him to make such gestures. He’d written letters under
her
name only to laugh in his face. Asher had shown up, walked right into the lion’s den that day he set foot on her lawn.

Had she meant that much to him? Why?

She remembered her confusion and the girls laughing at her as the guys snickered. Asher was undaunted, prepared to escort her right into homecoming for all the school to see. How blind she was not to see what was happening then.

That entire day was horrible. She tried to understand why he’d come there, but then he’d said something and she only recalled being furious with the strange boy who never said more than two words to her.

He’s using you.

His warning came back to her, now holding the prophetic wisdom she was too naïve to hear as a girl. Bobby
was
using her. Asher was right and he’d tried to save her. If only she’d listened, there could have been so many more happy memories to her high school years.

She didn’t remember what she’d said after he’d upset her. She could barely remember looking at him again after that day. It was as if he’d purposely avoided her.

But now, understanding who he was and how their paths were tied, she suspected he had a plan from the start. Thinking Mr. Stone could have done all of this as some form of revenge broke her heart all over again.

Elliot was right. She’d done nothing when she could have possibly done something. Did Asher see her that way too?

Her stomach knotted painfully. Once the thought crossed her mind it wouldn’t leave. That was why he didn’t want her to see him. He never meant for any of this to go on longer than he’d planned. He wanted to hurt her.

“Well done,” she slurred, stumbling away from the door. Jerkily fumbling her way down the steps she gasped through new tears of betrayal. She needed to get out of there.

Her head hung between her shoulders as she sat in her car—waiting. For what, she didn’t know. Her chest ached. She wanted to curl up in a ball and shut her eyes until the world became a nicer place. Life wasn’t supposed to hurt this way.
Love
wasn’t supposed to cause this much pain.

Her fingers curled around her keys, her thumb slowly tracing the garnet stone of the sword. He should know she was there, know she’d pieced it all together.

Removing the sword from her keychain, she reached in her bag for a piece of paper and a pen. She wrote a quick note and folded it around the sword.

I remember you. I remember every flower, every poem, and every gift, but I never knew they were from you. For the record, I never loved anyone the way I love you. That you couldn’t be honest about who you were when I was always honest with you…That, Mr. Roan, is my greatest regret. I understand now why you ended it.

Take care,

S.F.

She left the paper and sword wedged in the crack of the heavy double doors. Enough.

****

By the following week Scarlet had made some progress. She’d thrown away all the picked over junk food in her kitchen, forced herself to walk the track during her lunch break, and made a valid attempt to take pride in her appearance again. Working on the outside helped with the disaster dwelling on the inside.

Becoming aware of so many things in such a short time took a few days to process. It hit her late Saturday night that Asher first approached her on GeekPeek, the brainchild of his career. There were some ethical red flags there, but overall she was simply fascinated that someone she knew was smart enough to create such a thing. Part of her—the teacher in her—wished she could go back in time and nudge little Asher Roan and tell him everything was going to work out just fine for him in the end.

That was another difficult pill to swallow. Asher was going to recover. He was going to be just fine. He was gorgeous, smart, successful, exciting, and gentle. Soon enough he’d be rebounding with someone else and she’d be nothing more than a weird childhood memory gone awry.

She didn’t want to be a tragedy, so she stopped comparing herself with others and turned all her attention to bettering herself. Her focus was work, her students, and finding hobbies she enjoyed. Currently, she was learning how much she did not care for knitting. But she smiled and did exactly what the instructor said, certain her seat would be open next Monday at the local stitch and bitch.

That following Wednesday, after the last teacher seminar for Technology in the Classroom, she again waited to speak to Elliot and Jet. For seven days she’d considered how to apologize for doing nothing rather than something. It wasn’t easy.

Once everyone left the room she slowly approached Elliot. “Oh, good. You’re back,
”
he snidely said as she meandered toward the front of the classroom.

His nastiness was intimidating and, to her thinking, a bit undeserved. “You know,
”
she started, losing sight of her purpose. “Not all bullies look the same. Some wear bow ties and glasses and can be real assholes.”