I pull my hand back to open my laptop and power it on. My eyes flick to the screen, tallying the time we have left before we have to scrub in. Richard doesn’t know about Ryan and Lainey’s clinic. If he does, he’s never brought it up. He’s taught me a lot over the years, both about surgical life and some regarding business, but to quote his exact words, “it’s foolish to work for free.”
“He doesn’t need to know what I do on my days off.”
“Hasn’t he ever asked?”
Her words are a punch straight to my gut. One she likely doesn’t realize she’s hit. I hide the flinch well these days, but that overall sting is still the same. No, he’s never asked what I do on my days off. He doesn’t ask about my personal life outside of our time together. I’ve created a life where most people don’t ask about me, and I thought I preferred it that way.
Then Annaliese came along, and she asks me everything. It should annoy me.
But it’s worse than that, I like that she asks. I like it a lot.
Chapter Ten
Annaliese
Ipressmyfistsagainstmy lids, rubbing hard to wipe away the sleep. When I open my eyes, my blurred vision settles, and I can start to make out the patient names and case times on the surgical wall.
“You look like shit.”
I twist my head to turn over my shoulder at Martin and pretend to scratch my nose with my middle finger. “Good morning to you, too.”
Martin chuckles, causing his copper-red curls to bounce as his shoulders shake. He takes a swig of his matcha and points to the schedule with the cup in hand. “You’re with Dr. Andrews again?”
What day am I not with him? My schedule since coming here has been nothing short of brutal. The average resident works roughly eighty hours a week, and is on overnight call once every four days. For me, there’s never a break. I’ll do the standard eighty hours, but I’m on call nearly every night. I’ve felt myself slipping into that miserable purgatory where I’m always on the verge of getting sick, which means my blood sugar levels have been crazy. My mom is furious and keeps begging me to talk to my dad, but I know if I tell him it’s too much, he’ll love it. He’ll finally get the satisfaction of hearing me say exactly what he’s been begging for me to whine about my entire medical career.
And I’ll be dead before I whine to him.
“It’s like that Groundhog Day movie. Every day is a repeat of the day before. No matter how much I try to change the outcome, shit still seems to happen.”
He chuckles. “Could be worse. You could be stuck with wrinkly, old Dr. Anderson. But no, you get delicious Dr. Andrews. He’s a little uptight, but he is absolutelysexy.”
My mouth falls open and I turn to Martin then briefly look around to make sure any nursing staff isn’t within ear shot. “Oh really? I didn’t know you had a thing for Dr. Andrews.”
“I have a thing for any grumpy older man. It’s pathetic, really. Throw in the muscular dad bod he has going on and I’m a goner.”
Martin has been my only friend here in the city since the day I moved back. I get along with the other residents, I don’t feel like an outsider by any means, but Martin’s personality fits mine. He’s a second-year resident like me, but he worked as a surgical nursing aide in pre-op during undergrad then completed his residency here last year. He’s much more comfortable with the hospital atmosphere and the staff than I am. Within my first few weeks, he took me under his wing and told me that just because my dad is Chief, it doesn’t mean he’s going to show me any special treatment.
He invited me over to his place to play board games with him and his partner. His partner cooked us paella while Martin and I sipped white wine and vented about our schedules. That was the night I learned I’m on call nearly three times as much as other second-year residents. He poured me a second glass and told me I should be thankful I wasn’t a nepo baby; it was the best—and last—fun night I’ve had since returning to the city.
I can’t exactly disagree with Martin on Dr. Andrew’s looks. He’s the perfect mix of muscular and soft. I’m a warm-blooded woman who can appreciate a man that spends hours in the gym building muscle, but also isn’t afraid to turn down a double bacon cheeseburger when the occasion fits. I doubt he has a six pack for abs, but I bet he could bench press twice my body weight, and the image of him using me as the bar has my body humming.
“Ahh, I see someone agrees with me that Dr. Andrews is a hottie.”
I whip my head side to side before spinning in a slow circle to make sure there isn’t a soul around besides the two of us. Once I’ve confirmed it’s just us, do I dare whisper to Martin how I truly feel.
“I definitely … um … well he’s not ugly. That’s for sure.” And now that I’ve gotten used to his gruff demeanor, I kind of like it. Well, I like teasing him about it anyways.
Martin tries to hide a laugh with his matcha, the sound causing a shrill whistle from his nose.
“Remind me to knock twice and wait a minute before entering his office next time. Wouldn’t want to walk in and see him bending you over the corner of his desk.”
“Martin!” I scoff, reaching to slap a hand over his mouth. “If anyone hears you, oh my gosh. You’re dead.”
He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Just calling it like I see it. Anyone with a set of halfway decent eyes can see the way he looks at you.”
“Right,” I deadpan. “He looks at me like I’m going to make him sick.”
Martin scoffs. “You’re blind, girl. He looks at you like you make him curious, and for Dr. Andrews, that says something.”
