Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 76436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
I nod, gripping the scalpel tighter. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I mumble.
Tabitha glances toward Jason. “Do you want me to ask him to come help us?”
“No!” I say too sharply, too fast.
Tabitha’s eyebrows shoot up.
I scramble to recover. “I mean, no, it’s fine. I can figure it out.”
The last thing I need is Jason standing next to me, close enough to catch his scent, close enough for him to see the flush rising in my cheeks, the way my hands won’t stop shaking. I’m already unraveling, and having him near would only make it worse.
Across the room, he looks up briefly. For a split second, our gazes meet, and my breath catches. His expression doesn’t change—calm, professional—but there’s something in his eyes, something flickering behind that composed exterior, that makes me wonder if he’s thinking about it too.
I drop my gaze back to the cadaver, my cheeks burning. My hand trembles as I position the scalpel.
It’s been a week, and I thought I could push it aside, bury it beneath work and focus and sheer willpower. But Jason is here, and so am I. And no matter how much I try to pretend nothing happened, I can’t stop remembering how it felt to cross that line—and how much I want to do it again.
I force the thought out of my mind and make a cut.
“Good,” Tabitha says softly, her voice steady and encouraging. “You’ve got it. Just follow the line.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak, and focus on deepening the incision, layer by layer. My hands are steadier now, but my thoughts are anything but. Jason’s presence is still like a current in the room, tugging at me even when I’m not looking at him. I can feel him moving from table to table, his voice calm, his attention focused on everyone else.
Everyone but me.
Which is exactly how it should be. Exactly how I need it to be.
But when I glance up, just for a moment, my resolve wavers. He’s at the far end of the room now, his hand resting lightly on the edge of a table as he speaks to Eli and Ralph. He looks so composed, so in control, like nothing could ever shake him. Like the Jason who was in my townhome, his hands gripping my waist, his mouth on mine, was a different man entirely.
I drop my gaze again, my pulse quickening. I focus on the cadaver, on the precise line I’m carving into its surface. This is what matters. This is why I’m here. Not Jason. Not the memory of his hands, his voice, his kiss.
Forget that this used to be a living human. It’s merely a shell now. A tool of science.
“Angie,” Tabitha says. “That’s great. Just keep going. You’re doing fine.”
I nod again, muttering a quiet “Thanks.”
But as I finish the cut, I feel the weight of someone’s gaze. My stomach twists, and I know before I look that it’s him.
Jason is watching me from across the room, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes tell a different story. They linger on me for just a second too long before he turns back to his students, resuming his explanation as though nothing happened. As though the look wasn’t loaded with the same tension I’ve been trying to bury all week.
I exhale and grip the scalpel tighter as I move to the next layer of tissue.
I can’t afford to think about Jason. Not here, not now. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t ignore the way my body reacts to his presence, the way my heart races every time I catch him looking at me.
This is dangerous, and I know it.
But even as I force myself to make the next cut, I can’t help but wonder how much longer we can keep pretending nothing happened before the tension between us becomes impossible to hide.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jason
I’ve been staying away from Angie and Tabitha’s table as much as I can. I don’t want to seem like I’m hovering.
Plus, I can’t show any favoritism.
Just being in the same room with Angie is difficult. All I want to do is touch her, run my fingers over her flesh, feel her heart beating next to mine.
She’s probably angry with me for leaving late in the night. And rightfully so.
But too much is going on in my life right now. I have a chance to become a surgeon again. To take back some of what life has taken from me.
While I’ll never get Lindsay or Julia back, perhaps I can at least get my livelihood. I was a talented surgeon—quickly becoming one of the best in the field.
And then—
It all came crashing down.
For so long I didn’t care. I never wanted to wield the scalpel again. Because the accident cost me two things I valued more than my ability to cut into human flesh.