Page 38 of Her Saint

“Come in!” he calls.

It’s fine. I’ll drop off the graded story prompts and head right back out the door.

“Ah, Briar.” Dr. Barrett attempts to keep his face neutral when he ushers me in. I try to leave the door open, but it swings shut behind me.

“I have those graded assignments for you,” I say in a rush, setting them down on his desk.

“Great.” He gestures to the chair in front of his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

“I actually have another class?—”

“Oh please.” He waves his hand dismissively. “You have another twenty minutes before your next class starts. If you’re going to be a tenured professor someday, you’ll need to learn how to take advantage of your breaks.”

I let out a slow, calming breath through my nose and reluctantly take a seat.

He folds his hands together on the desk in front of him. “Is everything all right, Briar? You’ve seemed distracted lately.”

His concern is almost fatherly. A whole new level of sickening. “Completely fine. Actually, I have been wondering...do you know if any of our students are already published authors?”

A crease forms between his thick, graying brows. “Why would someone attend an MFA program if they’re already a published author?”

My nails bite into my palms at his condescension. “Maybe somebody who wants to learn more about the craft or learn fromother writers. Someone who’s hit a rut in their career or found themselves unable to write.”

Saint called me his muse. He said he’s only able to write because of me. Maybe that’s why he’s here.

Dr. Barrett scoffs. “That would be absurd.”

I want to rip this ancient asshole’s head off. “So you don’t think there’s any chance that Saint de Haas could actually be S.T. Nicholson? He is completely anonymous. No one knows his true identity.”

Dr. Barrett barks a cruel laugh. “You and your imagination, Miss Shea. No, I do not think that our MFA student Saint de Haas is secretly a best-selling author.”

“It’s Dr. Shea.” I stand and manage to grit out, “Glad we had this chat.”

“Oh, Briar, before you head to class, we should chat about your future at Auburn.”

With my hand on the doorknob, my spine stiffens. His tone isn’t sinister, but my brain still registers his words as a threat. “Oh?”

“I know you’re very serious about working as a professor and educating students. As you know, I’ll be retiring soon, and the administration will be looking to replace me. I’m sure they would think very highly of any recommendation I gave.”

Relief washes over me. “Thank you, that would be?—”

“Over drinks. We can chat more. Tonight?”

My heart hammers against my ribcage. Any conversation he wants to have with me can take place on campus, not off campus over drinks. But if I tell him that, if I blow him off, he could tell the administration not to hire me.

I force a sweet smile to my face. “I can’t tonight, unfortunately,” I manage, swallowing. “My mother’s in town.”

“Another night then,” Dr. Barrett says easily, his focus dropping back down to the file open in front of him.

I take advantage of the opportunity to slip out the door, heart pounding. If I can just keep him at arm's length a little longer, I can survive until he retires and get my dream job.

In the meantime, I have another problem to handle: Saint de Haas.

Or S.T. Nicholson.

I need to know if they’re the same person. If Saint really is S.T. Nicholson and I can get proof of his secret identity, maybe I can use that information to blackmail him. To finally get him to stop stalking me and leave me alone.

And to do that, I’ll just have to use his own methods against him.

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