Annie.
I flush at the nickname and purse my lips together as I cock my head. “Annie?”
Colt’s expression falters, and I realize he must not have meant to say that nickname out loud.
“You look like an Annie to me,” he says, his voice low and raspy. “That alright?”
I nod, slowly at first, then quickening like a bobble head. “That’s just fine, Colt.” I go to stand, ready to prep for our other cases so I can get to my appy.
“Hold on,” he calls, still firmly seated at his desk. He nods to my wrist, which is currently propped on my hip, waiting. “What are your sugars? I don’t want you playing catch up all day.”
Something warm blooms in my chest. He might be asking because I’m his liability, but something tells me he’s asking because that soft part inside of him truly cares.
I tap the screen of my watch. “I’m at one twenty-two right now.” Which I consider my sweet spot. It leaves some wiggle room to run low or high before needing to do something about it.
But Colt’s expression doesn’t look as pleased as mine. He opens the drawer to his side, rifling through what sounds like a plastic bag before he looks up and tosses something in the air.
I catch the small, yellowish item between my palms, slapping them together so it doesn’t fall out. And when I bring it to my chest and open my hands, I gasp, nearly choking on air.
Because the item Colt tossed to me is something I haven’t seen in almost fifteen years, but it’s something I’d never forget.
The wrapper hasn’t changed since the days Asha used to pack them in my lunch, and when I twist the foil and toss the candy in my mouth, I’m so fucking grateful to realize the flavors haven’t changed either.
A thousand questions flood my mind. How did he get these? And where did he find them? Most importantly, why did my little tearful story about my high school nanny prompt him to do something so thoughtful?
“Colt … I…” I’m speechless and feeling those tears well up again.
He scoots his chair back and moves around to the front of his desk, sitting at the edge of it. He crosses one ankle over the other and clasps his hands together in his lap, almost looking shy.
“I’ve stashed them everywhere around this hospital,” he starts. “Each OR has a handful in the desk of the circulating nurse. They’re in my office,” he gestures with a nod to his drawer, “in my car, in the drawers of the pre-op desks. There’s even a few in your dad’s office that he doesn’t know about. l have an extra bag you can store in your locker, and I have some in mine. I just…”
He trails off, and I swear I see the tips of his ears redden. He looks at his hands still held in his lap and slowly rubs his palms together, moving his wrists side to side as he does. “I just want you to know that you don’t have to hide this from me. You don’t have to pretend like it doesn’t exist.” His eyes nearly pierce through me as he continues, “You’ve been fighting this battle by yourself for nearly your entire life, and I’m sure sometimes it feels like you are alone in this, but you aren't, not anymore, got it?”
With the candy locked between my teeth, I nod slowly, knowing I don’t have the ability to do much more than that. It’s possible I still may burst into tears, or lunge at him from across the room and force a hug on him. Both would probably make this relationship, one that has inched so far away from professionalism it’s a blurred marking in the distance, a little awkward.
“Thank you, Colt,” I rasp, inhaling sharply through my nose.
He nods once, seemingly satisfied, before abruptly standing and coming toward me. “Let’s get scrubbed in; first, we have a gallbladder to remove.”
Chapter Eighteen
Annaliese
Myhandsareclaspedfirmly in front of me, balanced in the air to keep myself sterile as Colt gives the rest of the team a rundown of the procedure.
When he tells them that I’m leading today, those butterflies are back in my stomach. It’s got to be because I’m about to complete my first surgery by myself. It has to be that. It most definitely isn’t because I was able to keep my sugars in my sweet spot because Colt slipped me candies each time I was about to drop below one hundred today.
It most definitely isn’t the sound of his gravelly voice booming over the sterile operating room, ensuring that the rest of the team is in place, performing the time out, or the way he brushes up against me as we get into position.
It definitely isn’t the stare he gives, the warm look that passes between us as comforting as a hug.
My hands stay composed and steady when I make the incisions. I insert the laparoscope and once the camera is positioned how I like, I let Colt take it over.
A sense of calmness washes over me. It’s nearly sedating how happy I feel right now. I feel confident about the surgery in front of me, and I’m so fucking thankful that Colt is taking this chance. It makes this blooming crush I’ve been avoiding even harder to shove to the side.
“Music?” Colt’s rumbly whisper washes over my skin, and I can feel the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand tall. We’re so close when doing an appendectomy. So close I could turn to the side and practically tuck myself underneath his arm. It’s something I’ve thought about one too many times.
I nod, not wanting to lose focus on the work in front of me.
