Page 80 of Broken Dream

Because already I’m feeling things. Feelings I’ve never felt before.

It frightens me. Especially since she’s a student.

And that is why I left her in the middle of the night. I shouldn’t have been there in the first place, but…

I’m finding it harder and harder to make excuses for my behavior.

Because quite frankly, I’m not sorry it happened. And while I’ve been focused on the surgery and the hope that it’s given me, just as much of my focus has been on Angie Simpson.

It’s forbidden.

Taboo.

And I’ve given that some thought. Is that why I’m so attracted to her? Because it’s so wrong?

But I’ve been teaching for two years. Four semesters. I’ve taught many beautiful women, but not one of them has affected me like Angie Simpson has.

We finish up lab, and as I give the instructions, I deliberately look away from Angie.

The students did well today. Most of them were excited to start cutting—all of them except for Angie.

But she did it.

She faced her fears, and she made the cut with as much precision as I’ve seen any first-year medical student make.

She has the gift. She may not want to be a surgeon, but she could be.

The other two students in the class who seem to be the most gifted are her lab partner, Tabitha, and Elijah Garrett.

But they all did well.

“Excellent work,” I say as I dismiss the class. “Same time tomorrow, and we’ll continue this exercise.”

Then they applaud.

I’m not sure what they’re applauding. Certainly not my lecture. They’ve heard me lecture before. They must be applauding the fact that they cut today for the first time.

But Angie’s not clapping.

She’s looking down at her cadaver as she covers it. And I see her mouth the words thank you.

She’s something else.

I made it clear in our first lecture what a gift this was, how we should be grateful for these amazing people who gave us the ultimate gift of their bodies to study and learn from.

She took it to heart.

This is a woman who probably thanks the animal before she eats a steak.

In fact I wouldn’t doubt it, since she comes from a family of beef ranchers.

She’s something else, Angie Simpson.

Emotions coil through me—emotions I haven’t felt in so long. Emotions I didn’t think I was capable of feeling any longer.

And some of it…

Some of it’s not familiar.