I pull my elbow from his grasp, shooting him a dirty look. “It’s not like I promised him Optimus Prime would hold the scalpel for Christ’s sake. It’ll sit ten feet away on the nurses’ desk, right next to the pen and clipboard they bring in from the outside. We aren’t breaking any laws by giving the kid a little sense of peace before he goes under anesthesia. Why is this such a big deal?”
Colt looks to the side, his gaze softening a little as he works his jaw back and forth.
“Do you have a prejudice against Transformers?”
He tilts his head toward me to offer a very annoyed eye roll.
“Or did I get it wrong? Your favorite is Bumblebee, isn’t it?”
I swear I see a hint of a smile about to burst from his lips, but he quickly schools his expression and clears his throat. “I wouldn’t classify a Transformer as a superhero.”
My eyes bulge at the sight of him actually cracking a joke. “I would argue that anyone who saves the world is a superhero.”
His nostrils flare slightly as he tempers another smile. He stares at me for so long that his gaze then morphs from that familiar annoyance into something else. Something I'm not afraid of, but it's just as dangerous. It's something that has a blush blooming across my chest, and I can feel it begin to crawl up my neck. He must notice it too, because I swear I can see the corner of his mouth twitch in satisfaction. We stare off in silence, our hidden smiles begging to burst until a nurse passes by us, and we move out of her way. I offer a hello, and she responds with a good morning to the both of us, and of course Colt doesn’t return the greeting.
“Let’s go,” he barks, that grumpy shield coming back up as he storms down the hallway. “If you’re so confident Optimus Prime will help us in the OR, then you can take the lead on his surgery.”
Thank God his back is to me; I wouldn’t want him to see the mix of excitement and nervous anticipation fueling me as my jaw falls open. I’ve assisted in countless appendix removals, both laparoscopic and open, but always as an assistant, usually cleaning up and closing the cavity. This opportunity is everything.
I quickly tap my watch, checking my numbers and wondering if I have enough time to stop for a quick snack before the case starts. But when I hear a throat clearing and look up to see Colt standing by the bank of elevators, holding the door open as a foot taps impatiently, I see my answer written on his irritated face.
Chapter Eight
Colter
IdebatelettingAnnaliesetakethis entire surgery, start to finish. It wouldn’t really be uncommon for a second-year resident to complete an appendectomy with the attending supervising, but I’d be lying if I said that Richard’s lack of faith in her abilities doesn’t make me hesitate to see how far she can go.
She’s assisted me on countless surgeries over these last few weeks, and I quizzed her through each one. She hasn’t shown the slightest insecurity, or lack of knowledge about anything we’ve encountered. She hasn’t disagreed with any recommendation or order I’ve given her.
Until today.
Technically, yes, an ultrasound can diagnose a burst appendix, but a CT is the gold standard. Even for children, I prefer a CT so I can get a better visual beforehand. I’d be able to see if there is additional abscess or fluid that will need to be removed before I open them up.
Less surprises means less room for error.
But her stubbornness gets to me. Her passion and drive and the scrunched up look on her face when she said she didn’t order a CT got to me. She knew it was risky. She knew I’d question it, but her heart led the way.
Maybe that’s the bleeding heart weakness that Richard has alluded to. But from where I stand, it’s just that she simply cares about people, and dammit, that does something to me. It does something to me that I don’t want to think about, because it isn’t a thought I should be having about my boss’s daughter.
Oftentimes, hell, most of the time, surgery can become cold. When the patient is under anesthesia and drapes are laid over their body, it takes away the personal touch of medicine. I won’t admit it to her any time soon, but I was filled with a strong sense of pride when she stood her ground and refused to order additional testing.
That sense of pride was instantly replaced with a strong urge to spank her ass when she offered to have the kid’s Transformer in the room with us. Against the rules? No. Going to contaminate the sterile field? Of course not.
Annoying as all hell? Absolutely.
But goddamn, she's pretty. When I saw that pink flush move up her neck I had to physically restrain myself from reaching out to trace its path.
So of course, Annaliese won. So once I’m done assessing the cavity, and I’m confident that she can remove the appendix and clean appropriately, I look up to nod in her direction, but my gaze goes to that fucking robot on the desk instead.
I must squint, or maybe grunt a little, because Annaliese’s gaze follows mine, and she peeks over the shoulder of the tech across from us. When she turns back, I can see the crinkles around the corner of her eyes and the wiggle behind her mask, letting me know she’s feeling pretty damn proud of herself right now.
“Alright, Keeton.” I lift my hands off the tools, reaching for the laparoscope to prompt her to switch places. “You’re on deck.”
Annaliese stretches her neck to one side and rolls her shoulders back before stepping forward to take over.
Not everyone initially realizes that surgery is a contact sport. There are a lot of moving hands that need to be in the same place, and when the patient on the table is a child, the space to work becomes even more limited.
Since I’m holding the scope, Annaliese needs to nearly tuck herself under my arm to have proper access to the other two tool sites. I’ve been in this position countless times with a limitless number of residents, both male and female over the last ten or so years, but I can’t remember any time it’s felt likethis.
