Clipped Wings (Clipped Wings, #1)

He summoned me inside. “Miss Page, the late hour must suit you better; you’re early.”


“I realize your time is valuable,” I said, hovering near the door.

“Have a seat. If my time is so precious, we shouldn’t waste it, then, should we?”

The chair was set closer to Professor Calder’s desk since the last time I was here, which didn’t help with my nerves. I unpacked my materials, passing him a copy with the implemented changes. I’d emailed one to him earlier in the week, but he insisted I bring a paper copy to each meeting for review. He usually took it without so much as a glance at it. This time, however, he flipped through the pages.

“You’ve made further revisions.” He seemed surprised.

“Yes, sir.”

He pored over the new material for several minutes, marking up the paper with his red pen. When he was done, he leaned back in his chair and smoothed his hand over his balding head.

“Your thesis has potential, but I feel you’re falling short. This lacks depth. Stop digging around the edges of the issues and get to the meat.”

I sank into the chair, frustrated and disappointed. I’d come into this program hoping my advisor would share my passion, but Professor Calder kept pushing me in a different direction, away from the issues I really wanted to tackle. “I’ve incorporated the findings from the articles you suggested, as well as those from other, more current studies.”

“This is your problem, Miss Page. You’re reaching, trying to connect things that have no validity. You might have been able to get away with this at the community-college level, but the bar is higher here. You need to readjust your personal expectations and learn to work within your parameters.”

“I thought I would have the opportunity to branch out and look at other issues, rather than ones that have already been well established.”

He gave me a patronizing smile. “You’re in a master’s program, not pursuing a doctorate. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Miss Page.”

He went on to point out what he deemed were the obvious problems with my newest research. When he was done ripping apart my work, he handed me the marked-up copy and gave me an assessing look.

He pushed out of his chair, adjusting his pants and jacket. It camouflaged the beginnings of a middle-aged belly. “You know, there are ways for you to earn extra credit and keep your place in this program should this continue to be a problem. Let me know if you’d be interested in exploring any of those.”

“Do you mean taking on more projects?” I asked. I would have to cut back my shifts at Serendipity again if that was the case.

“Something like that. It would require you to take a more . . . hands-on approach.” His smile and the way he looked at me made me shiver.

I didn’t want to believe what I thought he might be insinuating, but I was positive his predatory tone wasn’t just in my head. “Thank you for your time, Professor Calder.”

I packed up my things, desperate to leave his office. Some students might have jumped at the chance because of his educational accomplishments. But a man in his midfifties who used his PhD to demoralize his students held no allure. I didn’t need my advisor exploiting my weaknesses by offering me alternative ways to earn my master’s. I was capable, just struggling to find a balance in this new life that was missing so many pieces.

He rounded his desk and offered to help me with my things. Professor Calder had never been this kind to me, and the change in demeanor alarmed me. I adjusted my messenger bag and backed away toward the door. Stepping out into the hall, I was met with an unexpected but welcome sight.

Leaning against the opposite wall, Hayden stood with his phone in his hand, frowning at the screen. He was wearing the hoodie that broke his resolve, one foot crossed over the other.

“Hayden!”

“Hi, kitten.” He pocketed his phone and pushed off the wall.

“I thought I was supposed to call.” Relief brought me close to tears. How he’d managed to find my advisor’s office didn’t matter.

“It’s dark. I didn’t want you walking across campus on your own.” He lifted my messenger bag over my head and shouldered it. “I hope you don’t mind.” Tucking my hair behind my ear, he leaned in and kissed my cheek. I accepted the affection, aware of Professor Calder’s presence behind me.

“Of course not.”

“The building is closed. You shouldn’t be here,” Professor Calder barked.

Hayden glanced at him, unconcerned, like he’d forgotten all about the reason I was here. He ignored the question and held out a hand. “You must be Tenley’s advisor.”

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