Page 37 of Broken Dream

“Crap,” Tabitha says. “In that case, I’m coming along. I’m a sucker for a triple mocha.”

The three of us leave the building and walk a block to Starbucks.

“I’ll have a grande dark roast,” I tell the barista, “and whatever the two of them want. It’s on me.”

“Thanks, Angie!” Tabitha’s eyes light up. “Grande mocha with an extra shot, please.”

“I’ll have an Americano,” Eli says. “And a blueberry scone.”

“You want that heated up?” the barista asks.

Eli grins. “Obviously.”

“Coming right up,” the barista says. “What’s the name?”

“Tabitha on the mocha, Eli on the Americano,” Tabitha replies.

The barista types the names into her console. “Those will be right up.”

I scan my card while the barista pours my coffee and hands it to me.

Some of the comfortable seats are open, so Eli takes a chair while Tabitha and I sit down on a fluffy couch. I take the lid off my coffee, and the steam swirls upward.

“You don’t take cream or sugar?” Tabitha asks.

“Nope. I’m a purist.” I set the coffee down on the table to cool, still watching the steam swirl into the air.

“Are you going to tell us what’s going on with Ralph?” Tabitha asks.

“Like I said, it’s nothing. He’s just being a dick.”

I grab my coffee, take a sip.

And fuck.

I burn my tongue.

The same tongue that was swimming in Jason’s mouth yesterday—the first day of lab.

Because what Ralph says is true.

We did kiss. We kissed hard.

And I have a feeling that moment may just haunt the next three years of my medical education.

Chapter Twelve

Jason

I sit in Dr. Louisa Matthews’s office, my nerves antsy under my skin.

A new technique for a nerve transplant.

Fresh hope.

Nerve conduction studies. MRI scans.

The nerve graft is extracted from a cadaver but reanimated using living cells from my body.