I lifted my head. “You don’t have to knock before you enter my office.”
She frowned. “What if you were in with a patient?”
I shrugged. “They’d get over it.”
Giggling, she shook her head.
A pang of regret hit me in the stomach because I missed the way her curls dance around her shoulders whenever she moved her head. But since we were at work, those curls were confined to a tight bun at the nape of her neck.
“I’m not going to just barge into your office. Anyway, did you hear what I said?”
I nodded and stood. “I was just finishing up some work so I could go and check on him before he left.” I knew she’d be aware of the fact that Johnny was being released from the hospital today.
“His grafts are looking good. He’s still in a lot of pain, though,” she sighed.
“He will be for some time to come.”Probably years.
I held the door open for her to pass through before exiting and closing the door behind me. We strolled down the hall together talking about a few other patients and a couple of surgeries I had coming up in the next few days.
“Dr. Jeffries has already pulled me for his hip surgery this afternoon.”
“Goddamned carpenters,” I grunted.
Grace giggled. “You know those carpenters aren’t all that fond of plastics. They joke about you all doing butt lifts and whatever.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s because those punks don’t want to admit they don’t have the finesse to create a butterfly stitch so perfect you wouldn’t even know a scar was there, after it heals, or couldn’t do a skin graft with so much grace that even the body swears it regrew the skin on it’s own.”
“So humble. But I’m guessing ortho would remind you that plastic surgeons such as yourself have never replaced a hip or a knee joint.”
I frowned as we neared Johnny Westbrook’s closed door. “I could’ve learned if I wanted to.”
Grace’s smile grew as she spun around to face me, placing her back against the door and her hand on the knob. “You absolutely could have. You could’ve done anything you set your mind to.”
My nostrils flared and my hands tightened in the pockets of my lab coat because I’d be damned if I didn’t want to mount this woman right there and then. Lucky for her, she turned and pushed the door open as she used her free hand to knock.
“Hi,” she greeted Johnny, his father, and one of the boy’s uncles. “Today’s a big day,” she sing-songed.
The boy in the bed let out a small smile. “I’m going home.”
His father frowned. “Not quite home, just yet. First the rehab center.”
And he would likely have to come back to the hospital for a few more surgeries before he could go home, but I didn’t feel the need to add that bit of news to his happy mood.
“I know, Dad, but you said rehab is one step closer to going home, right?”
“He has a point,” I interjected.
“See?” he said, looking between me and his father.
Most of the adults in the room let out a laugh at the boy one-upping his father. My lips even cracked a bit before I went about going through the release procedures with the family and answering any questions they might have.
“Dr. McCall will be in shortly to give you more information on what Johnny can expect at the rehab facility.”
“Thank you, Dr. Reynolds.” Johnny’s father stood and made his way over, extending his free hand for me to shake. In the three months since the family’s accident, Mr. Westbrook’s leg had healed, so he was out of the cast, though his right arm was still in a sling.
“My pleasure,” I told him, shaking his free hand.
“I think he’s going to be all right,” Grace sighed as we exited the room.
