Page 55 of Broken Dream

So we set it up.

A whole-life insurance policy for Julia, with Lindsay and me as beneficiaries, of course. Once she turned eighteen, she could take over the policy and name her own beneficiary.

The death benefit was one million dollars.

It occurred to me at the time that if anything ever happened to Julia, at least we’d have some money that would help us deal with the loss.

Right.

I’d so much rather have my daughter. I’d give the money back—and everything else I have—in a second to have my little girl.

I can’t answer Angie’s question.

I was able to pay off my student debt because of the death of my daughter.

I was able to pay for top-notch therapy to help Lindsay and me get through everything.

Therapy that only made me angry.

Therapy that didn’t ultimately help Lindsay.

Therapy that stole everything from me.

So yeah, I wish I were still making those wretched student loan payments.

Because if I were, my daughter would still be alive. She’d be six years old, learning to read. Learning to do simple math. Learning to write sentences.

“Are you okay, Jason?”

Angie’s voice jerks me out of my thoughts.

Today’s a good day. Today I have hope. That is why I’m here.

For the first time since I lost Lindsay, I’m attracted to a woman.

It’s a woman I can never have, of course, but the fact that I’m even looking her way means that I’ve at least healed a little.

I’ll never fully move past Julia and Lindsay—no decent person could—but my life is moving forward whether I want it to or not. There’s something nice about the fact that Angie has ignited a spark in me.

“How old are you, Angie?” I ask.

“I’m twenty-three,” she replies.

I hold back a scoff.

A thirteen-year age difference. Just like she said her parents had.

Why am I even thinking this? She’s my student. I was a teenager when this girl was born.

But emotions are swirling through me. All kinds of emotions.

Anger, sharp and hot, mixed with an ache so deep it feels endless. Confusion too, like a fog I can’t see through and a bitter taste of regret. It’s a storm of everything I’ve held back, and now, in this moment, it’s crashing over me all at once. I can barely breathe, barely think.

It’s chaos. Everything I thought I’d buried.

Pure chaos.

A wave of grief overwhelms me, but it’s different this time. Not quite as isolated.