A Brush with Love(79)

A sob escaped Harper’s lips, and she clutched a hand to her chest as anxiety tried to claw it open.

“Please. I’ll do anything. Please just let me take the exam.”

“Harper, honey, you aren’t listening,” Dr. Ren whispered, eyes softening. She looked around the room one more time before pulling Harper into the hall.

Harper shook as she scrubbed at the hot tears streaming down her face. She saw everything she’d worked for dissolving in this single moment. A rational part of her brain whispered that one mistake wouldn’t be the end of her, but the louder, angrier part repeated over and over what a fuckup she was.

Harper felt the anxiety permeating her body like a toxic gas, embedding itself into all her cells until they were a shriveled mess of raw pain and adrenaline. Her breathing was shallow and she gulped at air.

Dr. Ren placed her hands on Harper’s shoulders and bent down to meet her eyes.

“Listen to me, Harper. You need to get a grip. I’m worried about you and I need you to breathe.” Harper attempted a shaky breath. Dr. Ren didn’t look pleased with the result. “I promise you we’ll work something out. I promise.” She gave Harper a mild shake. “Believe it or not, this happens frequently.”

Words were locked in Harper’s throat, and she stared at her mentor, a rapid fire of emotions battling inside her chest.

“I’m going to send you home while they finish the exam. We’ll meet next week to organize an alternative assignment.”

Dr. Ren’s sharp eyes pierced into Harper. Guilt hummed through her body. She’d failed the woman she admired most.

“This is me telling you that this incident will not cause you to fail. I need you to indicate that you understand that before I let you leave.”

Harper nodded numbly. Her brain let out a tiny sigh of relief at the words, but the sick part of her mind yelled at her that it couldn’t be trusted. Something would go wrong. The worst-case scenario was the one bound to happen.

“Email me, and we’ll schedule something. But you need to get yourself under control. Mistakes happen, Harper, it will be okay.”

Harper’s head was swimming, the words coming to her like murky echoes. Mistakes like this didn’t happen to her. Mistakes led to accidents and failure.

Self-reliant, successful, safe—that’s what she needed to be. Not this unfocused, disappointing mess.

No more distractions.

“Please go home and calm yourself. I’m excusing you from the clinic this afternoon.”

An unintelligible protest burst from Harper’s lips, but Dr. Ren held up her hand.

“That isn’t a punishment. You need to take care of yourself before you care for patients.”

Harper had to look away, heat coursing up her neck, threatening to burn her down. How embarrassing. How shameful.

She couldn’t keep it together. Couldn’t do the one thing she was supposed to accomplish.

Dr. Ren gave Harper another wary look before pulling her into a stiff but kind hug. She let Harper go quickly and moved back into the lecture hall.

Harper moved through the school with a thrumming numbness, her hands shaking and her steps clumsy. How many exams had she taken during school? Thirty a year? Forty? How many quizzes and practicals and competencies had she conquered, always prepared?

But not anymore. She didn’t know this person. This distracted, humiliating person who thought she could actually pull off this career without giving it every ounce of herself.

Her pulse pounded at her temples as wave after wave of shame and panic threatened to drown her. She was letting all that pain of her past be for nothing. She was supposed to do one thing, and she was fucking it up.

She somehow made it to the school’s atrium, her breaths coming in ragged bursts. She couldn’t get her heart to slow, couldn’t get her body under control.

Then her eyes landed on Dan, her biggest distraction, sitting on the bench in front of the building’s exit, forearms resting on his knees, head hanging in tiredness or resignation—Harper couldn’t tell which. She wasn’t sure she cared.

Harper didn’t want to deal with what was coming. She didn’t want to say what needed to be said. She wanted to run, but her body had her cemented to the floor. It felt like she couldn’t get enough air, like she’d choke on the words she needed to say.

Dan’s head lifted, and, seeing her, he stood and walked to her, cutting off her exit path.

“Hey. What happened? What did the professor say?” He reached out a hand to her, but she flinched away. She’d crack if he touched her. Cold sweat prickled across her skin like sharp needles while a high-pitched humming filled her ears.

Say it. Say goodbye. Say the words, you stupid failure.

She squeezed her eyes shut then opened them, little black stars floating in her vision.

“Harper? Talk to me.”

I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to explain. I don’t want to need you like this. I just want to breathe. Why can’t I breathe?

“I don’t want to see you anymore.” Harper felt the recoil of her words reverberate through her body. Hurt and confusion flooded Dan’s features, but Harper couldn’t focus on them, her vision swimming in and out, darkness creeping in at the edges, while that incessant humming grew louder and louder.

“What?” Dan said, the word pushing through Harper, disrupting her center of gravity until her stomach flipped, and the world started to sway.