Page 111 of Broken Dream

Shit. We were in the anatomy lab. If he saw us kissing there, he could have…

Jason locked the door.

But not soon enough.

The chill of the morning seeps through my clothing, but it’s a welcome respite from the toxic warmth of the diner. I draw in a lungful of crisp, clean air, hoping it will rid my senses of Ralph’s stench.

Control. The word echoes in my mind as I start walking through the town. What control does he think I have? Yes, I could pay him off, but that’s not what he wants. He wants me to feel helpless, powerless under his threats.

And he wants some kind of leverage over Jason. Leverage that he thinks I can provide.

I’m glad Aunt Mel is still here.

She said she had a meeting and then she’d be flying back to the Western Slope this afternoon.

I quickly text her.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Jason

I open my mouth, but before I say anything, a chirping sound comes from Dr. Steel’s direction.

She grabs her phone out of her purse. “Sorry. I must have forgotten to put it on silent.”

“No worries.”

“I’ll just check it later. It’s my niece.”

Angie.

She has other nieces, but they’re not in Boulder. At least not that I know of.

“Go ahead. I don’t mind.”

“You sure?”

I nod. “Family is important.”

Don’t I fucking know it.

“Okay. This will only be a second.” She taps out a message and then tucks her phone away. “My niece wants to talk before I leave later today. Now where were we?”

“Your suggestion to continue our conversation,” I say, my voice steadier now despite the surge of adrenaline that the mention of Angie has triggered.

“That’s right,” she says, her tone softening. “I want to make it clear, Dr. Lansing, that I’m not here to pass judgment or make you feel cornered. This is about your well-being—both mentally and physically.”

I nod, understanding the logic behind her words but resenting them all the same. They feel like chains holding me back from something I desperately need.

“I get it,” I assure her, trying to put a little warmth into my tone. “And I’ll do whatever it takes. If that means talking more, then we’ll talk more.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear,” Dr. Steel replies with a small smile.

“I believe we were discussing my potential emotional responses to the surgery,” I say, my tone now a touch icier. “You were suggesting that a negative outcome might lead to a breakdown, correct?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Let’s cut to the chase, then.” I clear my throat. “This hospital is state of the art, and Dr. Patel has privileges here. It is the closest hospital to my home, and the hospital where I began my surgical career. I want the surgery here.”