Page 56 of Broken Dream

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Lindsay would have wanted me to move on, to find someone else.

I glance at Angie again, her wide eyes still shimmering with such innocent curiosity.

I have an urge to share my story, to open up about my past. To let her see the man behind the doctor, behind the professor, the scars that lie beneath the surface.

But I can’t.

Not yet.

I spend my life stuffing it back, and this woman…

This beautiful woman.

This intelligent woman.

This young woman.

She wants to go into psychiatry.

If I tell her my story, she’s going to want to talk about it. Try to analyze me.

The thought of it makes me sick.

I don’t want to be analyzed.

I don’t want to talk about my feelings.

Hell, no.

Sure, I came over here to celebrate.

Celebrate the fact that I might be able to perform surgery again in the future.

But then it hits me.

As I stare at her, anger and rage bubble up within me. Anger and rage at the psychiatrist who couldn’t help me, who ultimately took everything from me.

How do I make that work with the feelings I’m having for Angie?

On the one hand, I want to yell at her, punish her, because she represents the discipline that was supposed to help me, heal me, but didn’t.

And on the other hand—the deep and primal hand that controls my cock, my libido…

I want to grab her.

Kiss her.

Rip her clothes off and fuck her.

Hard, fast, and full of angry passion.

I want two things at once.

To fuck Angie and to punish her. To punish the psychiatrist who failed me.

But also take her, open myself up to a woman in a way I haven’t for three long fucking years.

And I shouldn’t do any of it.

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