1

Strong winds blew snow across the campus, rattling the windows as the storm raged; yet all but one of the seats in the classroom were filled. Professor Derek Paulson smiled at his students as he prepared to begin the day’s lesson. He started off by asking random questions from the required reading, pleased by how quickly answers were shouted out. During his brief stint as a professor at Cathia University, he’d gained the reputation as a hard, uncompromising teacher, but most of his students were thriving.

At the end of the day, he still preferred the company of the animals he worked with in his veterinary clinic, but he didn’t regret accepting the position teaching his future peers. His tough course load had weeded out those who weren’t serious about a future in animal care.

Which was why the one empty seat kept distracting him.

Three days a week he looked over at the seat by the window to see Gage Tackett, one of the few students he hadn’t pegged from day one as either a dropout or completely dedicated. Gage turned in papers that were thoughtful, well-researched, and showed promise, but he never voluntarily answered questions in front of the class. He always seemed distracted, yet, when called upon, replied in a way that proved he was listening.

Derek knew Gage didn’t live on campus, so perhaps the storm had delayed him, but the young man was religiously prompt. Gage dressed like a biker, but he sat up straight in class and his manner didn’t fit his delinquent appearance. He was the ultimate contradiction, and Derek didn’t know what to make of him.

But he had almost thirty other students who were present and deserved his full attention. So he forced himself to focus on them and forget the empty chair.

A soft knock at the door made focus a little more difficult when Derek saw Gage through the small window. He gave the front row of students worksheets to hand back before going to the door. He braced himself to address Gage as he would any other student who couldn’t show up on time. His policy had been made clear from the start. There was no excuse for tardiness. Gage had already been marked absent.

The young man stepped aside as Derek opened the door. Gage’s coal black hair was weighed down with melting snow, and there were patches of white on his leather jacket. His clean-shaven cheeks were red with windburn.

Gage lifted his broad chin, standing stiff with his arms at his sides. “I apologize for interrupting, sir, but there were extenuating circumstances—”

“Perhaps, but I have no time to hear about them. You’re disrupting my lesson, Mr. Tackett.” Derek gave Gage a hard look as his lips parted. “I hope to see you Wednesday. On time.”

There really wasn’t much more to say, but Derek wasn’t surprised when Gage inched forward, his evergreen eyes darkening with rage. “Listen, you—”

Holding up a finger, Derek pulled the classroom door shut. At the beginning of the semester he’d dealt with several students who thought they were entitled to special treatment. He’d never considered Gage to be one of those, but if he was, Derek wouldn’t allow him to make a scene.

“No, you listen. Missing class will affect your grade, but not as much as being dismissed from this course will. I’d consider carefully before continuing on this path, Mr. Tackett. Perhaps this behavior worked in high school, but it’s time to grow up.” Derek wasn’t even sure how old Gage was, but he could picture him as a star quarterback who’d had the world in the palm of his hand until reality showed him he wasn’t such a special little snowflake. He hadn’t made the cut in his dream job, and this was just his second choice.

Not a fair judgment when Derek knew very little about him, but the undertone of aggression in Gage’s stance was much like that of the muscle-heads Derek had dealt with in school. He was well aware of the fact that Gage could break him in two without much effort. Derek was in pretty good shape; he swam laps almost every morning and watched what he ate, but Gage was huge. No more than an inch taller than Derek’s six feet but much wider. Easily intimidating if Derek forgot who was in charge.

Moving a little closer, Gage met Derek’s unblinking stare. From the corner of his eye, Derek caught the man’s fists clenching. He braced himself, positive he couldn’t move fast enough to protect himself if Gage was going to punch him.

Then Gage shook his head and took a step back. “I thought you were one of the good ones. I apologize again, sir. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

Seeing Gage turn away, shoulders slumped as he made his way down the empty hall, was much worse than a punch. Derek was tempted to call him back. Give him the chance to explain, maybe let him off with a warning. But how could the students respect him if he started slacking on the rules? If he let one rule slide, then the others would be tested as well.

He was a good teacher and didn’t mind the extra work, but this was a part of the job he hated. He plastered on a smile and returned to the classroom, diving into the lesson and dismissing the urge to let the situation with Gage distract him any longer. The man wasn’t one of Derek’s wounded dogs at the clinic whom he could get through to with affection and special treats.

But, later that day as Derek tended to a young beagle who’d lost a leg and was bravely learning to function with the impairment, he couldn’t help but think how much he preferred working with animals. The rules were simple—he never felt like he was kicking one when they were down.

And he still couldn’t help feeling like that was exactly what he’d done to the young man who’d just needed to be heard.