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.”
He paused and glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Are you calling me a bully?”
“No, of course not. I’m calling you an asshole.”
He scowled at her then shook his head, rolling his eyes like she was beneath him.
She sighed. It really bothered her that he could dislike her this much without even knowing her. “I was coming up here to apologize, but you make that impossible. I don’t know why I bothered.”
He stacked the tablets in a box and faced her, arms crossed at his chest. “You were coming to apologize.”
“Yes.” She fidgeted. “It turns out—after taking some time to think—I remember a lot more than I thought I did about high school. I wasn’t always nice and there were some times I stood by when terrible things happened to all of you… when I probably could have intervened. You don’t have to forgive me, but I need you to know that I’m sorry for that. The person I am now would have done something.”
“Why didn’t you?”
She shrugged. “I was a kid. I didn’t respect myself enough to expect it from others. Maybe I was scared if I stepped in that they would have turned on me. You should know I also wasn’t immune to Bobby’s cruelty. He bullied me in a different way, but it was enough to keep me quiet and too afraid to interfere.”
Something changed in Elliot’s expression as his entire demeanor softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know he…was mean to you.”
Her smile was regretful. “That’s the thing about being an insecure little girl. I didn’t know it at the time either. I just thought the way he treated me was normal.”
“Well, I accept your apology and I’m sorry for being…an asshole.”
She cautiously grinned, feeling like a modicum of damage had been repaired. “Thanks.” Seeing he wasn’t into discussing things further, she slipped away.
As she left the room, Jet, again, chased her down. “Hey.”
“Hi Jet.”
He shook his head, appearing a bit frazzled. “What’s with you? You ask for a contact, I give it to you, and you never get in touch with Asher. What’s your deal?”
Taken aback, she stiffened defensively. “Nothing is with me. I figured some stuff out and realized it might be easier for everyone if we just let the past go. Forgive what is and move on. I was trying to do what’s right.”
“What’s right? Didn’t you hear me when I said he’s falling apart?”
She was getting a little fed up with everyone picking sides in regard to her and Asher’s personal life. “And what, exactly, do you think I’m doing? It’s a battle just to get out of bed each morning. If I don’t stay totally regimented I fall completely apart. I went to his castle, Jet, and I saw just how unsuited we are. He contacted me and broke up with me for a reason. He may love me, but he doesn’t like me. There’s just too much hurt between us.”
“You’re wrong. He broke up with you because no one’s ever wanted him before and he doesn’t know how to believe someone—a woman he’s always put leagues above the rest—might suddenly see something in him.”
Her nerves were shattered.“I don’t think I can handle much more of this.”
“So that’s it? You’re just going to walk away?”
“I don’t know what else to do.”
“Talk to him!”
“I can’t!” she snapped. “Don’t you see? I fell in love with Mr. Stone. Your friend is Asher Roan. I can’t ask him to be something he’s not. He deserves someone to want him for the man he is.”
“He is Stone.”
She shook her head. “No, he’s not. He’s a genius that runs a tech company who happened to go to school with me and made a sizable donation to my students. Other than that, he’s a stranger.”
“You’re wrong. Everything you guys shared was Asher. He never had the courage to be himself until he got to pretend to be someone else. When he was Stone, there was no fear of coming up short. It was the first time he got to be real.”
Frustrated and out of solutions she slapped her hands on her thighs. “If he’s so miserable without me, where is he? It’s been almost two months—”
“He’s scared.”
“The Mr. Stone I knew didn’t get scared.”
“You’re wrong. Everyone gets scared. He’s terrified he’s broken your heart and he doesn’t know how to make this right. He’s afraid, Scarlet, afraid if he makes one more move he’ll break the two of you to the point you’re unfixable. He was so afraid you fell in love with the fantasy, he panicked about disappointing you with the reality.”
She did fall in love with the fantasy. Everything was so screwed up and she and Asher seemed to be taking the same approach. Avoidance was safe. What was the point in making things worse?
Looking into his eyes, she asked, “Did he do this to get back at me?”
“No. He did this because he’s always cared about you. I think part of him thought if he could prove himself to you he could let go of all his insecurities once and for all.”
Well that helped, but it still didn’t fix things. But if he couldn’t confide in her she couldn’t help him. “I don’t know how to fix this. I can’t make him do something he refuses to do and he doesn’t trust me.”
Jet looked down, his concern for his friend evident in his tight expression. “He doesn’t trust himself. He’s a great guy, Scarlet. He just…needs to believe in himself.”
“What if I’m scared too? I won’t survive being rejected by him again.”
“He won’t reject you.”
She considered his words, debating if they passed as any sort of guarantee. “Why did he like me, in high school, I mean? What was so special about me? I’m plain, I don’t wear fancy clothes, and my hair’s never been anything more than boring red.”
Jet smiled. “To him, you’re perfect.”
The word wrapped her heart in tender warmth, fulfilling little nicks of insecurity buried deep within her soul. To him, you’re perfect.
“Perfect’s a tall order to fill.”
“That’s the thing, Scarlet. Now he knows you’re not perfect and he loves you more for all your little imperfections. He has imperfections too.”
“He won’t share them with me.”
“I think,” Jet said slowly. “If you give him one more chance to show you who he is, his honesty would surprise you. Relationships are about meeting each other halfway.”
He’d tried to approach her and she punched him. She still couldn’t believe she reacted like that. Sighing, she said, “I’ll think about it. That’s all I can promise.”
It wasn’t the answer he wanted, but he nodded. “Good enough.”
When she got home that night she tried to distract herself but it was impossible. She wanted to believe he’d confide in her about his feelings if given the chance, but she was scared, scared of being hurt again.
She wanted a man that wasn’t afraid to fight for her, but maybe she had to let him know he had a fighting chance.Meet him halfway…
She glanced at Thor as the credits rolled andReturn of the Jedi ended. “I know. That one’s my least favorite too.”
Thor glanced her way and flicked his tail.
“You’re totally selfish. Do you know that? Here I am, suffering through my endless emotional turmoil, trying to make the biggest decision of my life, and you’re practically snoring.”
His eyes closed.
“That’s it.” She slid him to the empty pillow. “I can’t sit here anymore. I’m going out and you can’t come.”
She drove aimlessly for several miles until she wound up very close to Asher’s house. Pulling to the shoulder of the road, she held the top of the steering wheel and pressed her cheek to the back of her knuckles. “What am I doing?” she moaned, lightly banging her head as she groaned.
Sitting back, she sighed. “Damn it.
” Cranking the car into drive, she turned onto the private road. Four windows were illuminated, but the rest remained dark. The sweet scent of burning wood filled the air so she suspected someone was home.
She should have changed, was her first thought as she slowly climbed the ten stairs. Maybe she should go home and come again in the morning, when she was wearing something a little sexier than black slacks and a dated emerald blouse covered in Thor hair.
You’re just making excuses.
Gritting her teeth, she lifted her fist to the door and hesitated. What if he wasn’t alone? Her confidence didn’t return simply because his friends suggested it should. Rather than knocking, her fingers closed around the ornate knob and turned. The large door creaked and slowly opened.
Her breath left in a rush as the expansive foyer gaped before her. Towering walls and classically painted ceilings expanded to a soaring chimney made of the same stone used on the exterior. A flame flickered low in the cavernous hearth and recognition struck with the subtlety of an anvil.
There were two wingback chairs, tall and sewn of the darkest sapphire blue. A small, round leather topped table sat between them and in the corner of the enormous entryway was a wine fridge and an armoire of sorts. Where was he? Did he live here?
Shutting the door quietly, she slipped off her shoes and shut her eyes. The moment darkness surrounded her she remembered how to get to the other room and opened her eyes. Going left, she carefully walked toward a tall set of pocket doors, slightly parted at the center.
She breathed jaggedly, her nerves telling her to go back, but her will insisting she keep going. She deserved to see him, see this place of her past. If he got mad she broke in he could call the cops. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.
Her heart thundered behind her ribs with dizzying force as she slid the doors apart, stepped into the massive ballroom and froze. As his face lifted his lips parted, a million words and accusations flung between them as the moment carried through time with cutting implication.