The only time she isn’t is when I’m in surgery and my work consumes me.
Three people cross my table throughout the day, each one a painfully long surgery thanks to car accidents on the icy roads and a construction accident up at the lumber mill.
Trauma is busiest this time of year and in previous years, I loved it.
Nothing made the holiday season fly by faster than countless trauma surgeries.
This year is different.
Every moment spent between surgeries, I’m either scrubbing my hands and arms raw, talking to families, or filling in important paperwork, and those are the times I mull over my situation with Snow.
Her concerns are real and I don’t intend to dismiss them.
Things are light and fun right now, but I’m rapidly growing attached to her.
Her face exists in my thoughts, her hand lingers like a ghost in mine, and I can still taste her sweetness on my tongue.
It’s dangerous.
I might want more.
But to do that safely, I need to figure out how to handle our work situation in a way that doesn’t affect her.
While having Snow reassigned to another department would be the easiest solution, upending her job feels too scummy and plays into the power imbalance I’m trying to avoid.
It’s my position of power that causes the problem and that would become painful if I took the Chief of Surgery promotion.
I need another solution.
But I have none, currently.
Seven hours later, I trudge into the breakroom in search of coffee with thirty minutes before my next surgery and find the place decorated to the brim.
Snow balances on a chair with her arms outstretched, trying to pin a streamer into the corner of the room while June stands on the ground behind her, arms outstretched and ready to catch her if she falls. A couple of other staff are dotted around the room, decorating a Christmas tree in the corner and covering the surfaces in festive paper.
Fred rushes past me with a pastry hanging out of his mouth and he snorts at my stunned expression. “They’re doing it quick so Jen can’t take it down,” he mumbles through pastry flakes, then he’s gone in a flourish.
Fred’s voice draws attention, and Snow glances over her shoulder at me, then smirks. “You’re tall. Any chance of a hand?”
June’s expression grows hopeful and she clutches Snow’s legs. “Please say yes. Snow’s been giving me a heart attack every time she climbs up on this chair!”
A couple of other people laugh and Snow wobbles, sending both me and June toward her in a flash.
“Step aside.”
I catch June shooting Snow a look as my flat tone doesn’t scream that I’m pleased to help, but Snow knows better.
As she climbs down into June’s arms, I climb up onto the stool and take the decoration from her.
It’s far easier for me to reach the corner of the ceiling, but just as I’m pinning it in place, familiar hands clutch at my legs.
I glance down and Snow is gazing up innocently at me. When our eyes meet, she smiles. “Don’t fall!”
“I won’t.” Returning to the decoration, I pin it securely in place and June cheers.
“Yay! Seven more to go.”
“Seven?” I meet Snow’s eyes once more and she very subtly pouts.
