Tangled Minds (Society of Exalted Minds Book 1) Read online

  Tangled

  Minds

  A.M. Mahler

  Copyright © 2020 by Fox Chase Books, L.L.C.

  V.1

  Cover design by: Laerica Messia

  All rights reserved. This is an original work with original characters. All infringement on the story and characters is strictly prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for quotations used in printed reviews, without permission in writing from the author. All characters, businesses, and locations are fictional. Any similarities to actual people are purely coincidental.

  This story contains strong language and sexual situations. Please read at your own discretion.

  Published by Fox Chase Books, L.L.C.

  P.O. Box 5868

  Midlothian, VA 23112

  Tangled Minds/A.M. Mahler – 1st ed.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Tangled Minds (Society of Exalted Minds, #1)

  Jagger

  Olivia

  Jagger

  Olivia

  Jagger

  Olivia

  Jagger

  Olivia

  Jagger

  Olivia

  Jagger

  Olivia

  Jagger

  Olivia

  Jagger

  Olivia

  Jagger

  Olivia

  Jagger

  Olivia

  Jagger

  Olivia

  Jagger

  Olivia

  A.M. MAHLER

  Dear Reader,

  I’m sure you can all relate when I say 2020 has been a year for the record books. As I write this message, I am happy to report that my family and loved ones have all been lucky during this pandemic. We were blessed with keeping our jobs (including my day job) and staying healthy. That has not been the case with millions of people, and for that, my heart aches. If you are someone directly affected by the Coronavirus (in addition to those of us feeling the stress of the stay at home orders and new restrictions in place), know that my heart is with you, and I hope you find an escape from your stresses in this story.

  As a writer, I will always think of 2020 as the year I leapt. I only published two books this year instead of the three I had intended to. Like most of us, March hit me hard when the Governor of Virginia shut us down and the law firm that I work for sent us all home to work remotely for the duration. I’m lucky my husband and I are both with companies that were able to do that. But of course, shortly after came the talk of furloughs and layoffs, and March was a very stressful month creatively speaking—as in my creativity got up and left. Eventually, it returned, but the damage had been done and thus, two books instead of three. However, this year had successes and surprises that have just left me amazingly grateful that I took that leap.

  Back in November 2019, I signed on to be an author in Best Selling Author K. Bromberg’s KB Worlds project with over 100 other authors. I would do all the writing and she’d do all the marketing and heavy lifting. It was a no-brainer for me. Before I knew it, I was learning so many things in the way of marketing, newsletter reach, how to make my own covers and graphics—all from other authors on the project. We shared in each other’s groups and newsletters, teamed up on releases and cover reveals, brainstormed, did giveaways. All things I would have had to pay for before that project simply because I didn’t know what was out there. I grew as a writer, a business, and a person.

  My upward trajectory this year is continuing into a new genre with Tangled Minds. It’s still romance, and my other series are still continuing, but this is a story that has been rambling around my brain for years and the timing is right for it to come out.

  So, get comfortable. Grab a cup of tea or a glass of wine and settle in for the story of Jagger and Olivia, with their extraordinary talents and epoch love they have for each other. As always, I am humbled by and thankful for your interest of spending a few hours with me. I hope you consider it time well spent.

  Happy reading,

  A.M. Mahler

  For our UPS and Amazon drivers.

  You are the unsung heroes of

  our family in these dark

  and uncertain times. I lift

  my glass to you! (Thanks for

  delivering it safely)

  Jagger

  The first time she healed me, I was in fourth grade. I slid into home plate and snapped the bone in my lower leg. The white, blinding pain was excruciating, I screamed and cried like a little girl. The umpire, my coach, and I all swore we could hear the bone crack. We had won the game, but I ended up in an ambulance on the way to the emergency room. We figured I would be out of the playoffs, but I was back for the next game.

  She was a voice in my head. Not in the sense of, “Wow, Jagger DeWinter is so weird. He hears voices.” No, an actual person and she knew me. Or rather we knew each other, only she never gave me her name. I knew her only as Her, but I also called her Supergirl. I mean, someone that could communicate with you through their mind, heal your wounds and illnesses had to be some kind of superhero, right?

  We went to school together—so she said—but she wouldn’t tell me who she was. She told me that she didn’t like the spotlight—that it wasn’t safe for her. Now that we were in our senior year of high school, I was in the spotlight frequently. Being on both the football and baseball teams, I had a lot of friends. She told me that she was quiet and liked to blend in. Of course, I spent a lot of time wondering who she could be. There were quiet girls, but I would not say any of them blended in. None of the girls in my class were full-on loners and nondescript. None of them were friendless either.

  Growing up, I never really found it strange that I heard a voice. Ever since she first popped into my head, she was a constant presence. She was one of the main reasons why I was too freaked out to date. Don’t get me wrong. She didn’t keep up a constant commentary on my moves or anything—in fact, she usually made herself scarce when I did take a girl out—but what if I took her out and she didn’t tell me it was Her? Not only that, I spent most of the time on my dates asking trick questions to see if they were her.

  I didn’t know her name, but I knew everything else about her: her favorite song, color, book, movie, food, what time she went to bed, when she couldn’t sleep and even her birthday. I knew grilled cheese and tomato was her favorite lunch, and she loved to put whipped cream and cinnamon on her hot chocolate. I knew she watched sappy romance movies over and over again, but still cried at the end of every single one. Whenever I hounded her to give me her name, she always had the same answer. “It’s not safe for either one of us.” And, of course, she would not elaborate on why. I could only assume that it was because there weren’t a lot of telepaths in the world, and she didn’t want to end up doing party tricks or working in some traveling carnival.

  Chicks.

  Was it a rule that they had to make sure they were as confusing as possible? I thought I had proved I could be trusted. No one, not a soul, knew of our relationship. Mainly, because I thought people would think I was crazy. Not just because she could pop into my head, but I could pop into hers, as well. The strange thing was it didn’t work with other people. I could only communicate this way with her.

  Yet that wasn’t even all of it. As if communicating by telepathy were not already strange as hell, she had another talent. She could heal people through her telepathy. She didn’t need to touch them, though she assured me that was the fastest way. She just needed to find and maintain a psychic link to them. When I had broken my leg that first time, she stayed with me in my mind, there on the field, in th
e ambulance, and at the hospital. Her voice was soothing and settled my fear. She stayed with me through the x-rays and MRI, reminding me that it was rude to fart in the tube.

  Then that night, while I was lamenting the loss of my playoff season, she’d told me that she wanted to try something. She wasn’t sure if she could do it, but she suspected she could. I hardly had a chance to agree to her request when my leg began to feel warm and tingly. My whole body calmed down as a peacefulness settled over me. The warmth rolled gently over my leg and a tingling sensation followed it. When it was done, the pain disappeared, and I was positive it had healed. When I insisted the cast come off, my parents would not hear of it. Finally, I confessed that something didn’t feel right, and I needed to see the doctor. The doctor cut off the cast to x-ray my leg and got the surprise of his career when it was revealed that my leg was, in fact, just fine a mere day after I had broken it.

  That was when I earned my reputation for being a fast healer. After all, there was no other logical scientific explanation for it.

  That wasn’t my only assurance that my friend was not a figment of my imagination. She did, in fact, exist somewhere in this sleepy little town of Alpine Valley, Colorado. When we were ten, I had learned that hearing voices in your head was not a good sign and that answering them was even worse. I demanded she prove she was real. If she would not tell me her name so I could confront her myself, she needed to provide me with hard evidence. She sighed, muttered about me having no faith, before asking me to dictate something to her that she could write down and mail to me. Imagine how astonished I was when my fake letter arrived in the mail a few days later—cleverly with our school as the return address.

  She was always scared of discovery, and as we grew older, I ached from the feeling of helplessness over not being able to protect her. She wouldn’t hear of it though. She assured me that as of now she was safe enough, but feared for the future when her protection was gone. Of course, she wouldn’t tell me what that protection entailed. I again insisted she give me her name so I could help her and yet again, she refused.

  So, we were stuck spinning our tires in the Colorado clay.

  I learned that just because she could pop into my head did not mean that she could see every thought I ever had. She could only hear my thoughts as I had them, which was a relief, because I could hide from her the fact that I was in love with her. It was interesting that I could love someone I had never once seen face to face. Or rather, I knew I had seen her, I just didn’t know which Her she was.

  I didn’t think she was Carly Maples, the captain of the girls’ basketball team, or Jennifer Marlo, the brooding artist. I also ruled out Amy Higgins, the captain of the cheerleaders. However, my senior class had one hundred and seventy-five girls in it and most of them looked at me in the same way.

  She assured me that even if she didn’t have the powers she had, she still wouldn’t talk to me. I was too popular, and she was too shy. She said I was too good looking, and she didn’t know how to flirt with boys. When I reminded her that we talked all the time and she knew me better than anyone else, she told me that was different. She didn’t have to look me in the eye. At least after that conversation, I could also rule out the more outgoing girls.

  Or at least I thought I could. Who knows she might have just been trying to throw me off her trail.

  Seriously, girls made no sense.

  Only this one did make sense to me. I just wished I knew who she really was!

  “For crying out loud, Jagger, pay attention!”

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked. Good thing one of us was paying attention, I suppose.

  “I didn’t say anything,” Chloe Michaels looked at me strangely. “I was waiting for you to speak.”

  For the love of Christmas ... It had happened again.

  “Well, you weren’t paying attention to her, Jagger. Honestly, she asked you a question a few minutes ago.”

  Dammit, do you remember what the question was?

  “She wants to know if you have a date to the prom.”

  Do I?

  “I don’t know. DO you?”

  Am I taking you?

  “Not a chance.”

  Then I guess I don’t.

  “No,” I said, clearing my throat. “Sorry, got lost in thought for a second there.” That happened frequently with my Supergirl. She was much better at paying attention to what was going on around us while communicating with me than I was. I tended to get wrapped up in her.

  “You weren’t trying to think of other girls you’d rather take, were you?” Chloe pouted at me and it was not at all that attractive.

  “I really wasn’t.” Even though I totally was thinking about the girl I’d rather take. Why I was bothering to placate her, I had no idea. I wasn’t interested in Chloe. She was blonde, pert, hot, and everything a healthy eighteen-year-old boy should be interested in, but there just didn’t seem to be anything else there—nothing of substance. I would end up spending the entire evening avoiding her roaming hands and coming up with ways not to kiss her. I was known for being very picky about which girls I dated—because there was only one who I wanted to date, and she wouldn’t date me.

  My psychic friend really had messed me up for all other girls.

  “I’m not going with anyone either,” she hedged, trailing her finger down my arm. “Maybe we can go together.”

  “Um, well, I wasn’t really planning on going.” That was the truth. Dances weren’t my thing. Boys hung out together and didn’t dance. We watched the girls bounce around and dance together, which wasn’t all that awful considering what parts of their bodies were bouncing. Only established couples actually danced at a school dance. I wasn’t really interested in standing against a wall with a bunch of other dudes all night.

  “Are you kidding?” She practically shrieked. Why are girls always doing that? Why do they speak in octaves reserved for dogs when they’re surprised or mad?

  “Because some are stupid.”

  Gee, thanks.

  “Anytime.”

  “You just have to go, Jagger,” Chloe continued. “You’re the captain of the baseball team, and you’re in the court. You can’t get elected prom king if you aren’t there!” Prom king? Why would I want to be prom king? Guys did not find that title essential to their high school existence. It wasn’t something I strived for—baseball captain was, and I already had it.

  “Oh, really? I didn’t know that.” Mainly, I didn’t know since I didn’t really care, but this seemed to be important. Truth be told, I didn’t even know I was in the prom court and wasn’t even sure what it was. Shouldn’t someone have told me about that? “Does that mean I’m supposed to take one of the girls in the court then?”

  Chloe narrowed her eyes at me and leaned in closer. She gave me a look that said I couldn’t possibly be that stupid. Except I could be, at least with something that I couldn’t care less about. Prom wasn’t even on my radar. Hell, I was barely aware of the pep rally before the game next week. I probably had some responsibilities for that, too. “No. You don’t have to take any of them. You can take anyone you want. If you don’t have a date and I don’t have a date, we should just go together.”

  “Okay, I guess.” That was easy. Things in the world go smoother when girls just make them easy.

  “Ugh, Jagger, really? Her? She only wants to go with you, because you’re the baseball team’s captain and the pitcher. She needs to feel important, because she didn’t make the prom court. Two of her friends are on it, but they’re cheerleaders. She doesn’t think it’s fair that only athletes ever make the court. She’s trying to make a statement by going with the most popular guy in school.”

  I had no idea how much politics were involved in this.

  “You better clue back in. She’s already talking about limos and tuxedos.”

  “I’m not wearing a tux, Chloe,” I insisted. “I’ll wear a suit only if the other guys are, but that’s all you’re getting out of me. I don
’t even want to go to this thing.”

  She pouted some more. “Fine, but I’m going to get you a tie that matches my dress. We don’t want to clash. What color is your suit? Is it black? Make sure you look tonight and text me. It’s important we look awesome. Pictures are going in the newspaper and online, not to mention in the yearbook.”

  I mumbled something that might have been a commitment as the bell rung. She was texting her friends like crazy as she left class, while I was left wondering what had happened as I plugged my ear buds in and headed to lunch.

  Alpine Valley, Colorado is a small town about an hour north of Denver. There are only about six or seven thousand people living in it. It’s mostly farmers and ranchers, but some kids’ parents work in Denver, like my dad. He’s a lawyer there. His commute is long, but he and my mom had wanted to raise their kids in a more rural area, so they found this little dot on the map. Since we live so far outside the city, the cost of living was less, and my mother didn’t need to work. That, and my dad is a corporate lawyer. He’d rather just have her home taking care of the house, my sister, and I ... and anticipate his every whim. He’s a big asshole, quite frankly.

  There was nothing special about our high school. Same painted concrete blocks, fluorescent lights, and rows of dented and scraped lockers as any other school. There was no cool outside open area like the ones on TV or in the movies. I watched an old eighties movie where some kids were stuck in Saturday detention and they had to spend the entire day in the library. The library was this two-story behemoth with a cathedral ceiling and a multi-media room and who knew what else. Ours was small, dark, and if I had to spend a Saturday in it, I would go blind.

  I moved through the hallways in the same daze as the other kids—or I should say the other guys. The girls seemed to make the most of their brief time between classes. I just wanted to move through the monotony as fast as possible so I could get to lunch. After that, I had one more class before baseball practice.

  As always though, I scanned the faces of the girls, hoping a connection would pop up and I would get some clue as to who my mystery girl was. They all smiled the same back at me—coy, flirty, a little come hither. Well, no, not all of them. Some had boyfriends and didn’t look at me at all. Those girls I avoided looking at, I did not need trouble. Besides, I knew my Supergirl didn’t have a boyfriend.