“Dr. Blake, do you have something else you would rather be doing?” Dr. Mayfield asks, and I nearly have to shake myself.
“No, sorry, Dr. Mayfield.”
“If you’re not able to focus during surgery, perhaps you should find a different specialty.”
“I apologize again,” I say, not wanting to say anything disrespectful to one of my superiors.
“I’m not saying that as your superior, I’m saying it as a physician. Dr. Blake, there’s no shame in surgery not being your path.”
“My father wouldn’t agree,” I say.
“Peter is an asshole,” she says, and I blink up at her, only able to see her eyes with all her surgical attire on.
“I’m sorry?” I question.
“Peter was always judgmental. Yet did you know he had one of the highest bad outcomes in our year?”
“He never told me that, no.”
“Of course he wouldn’t. You could be a fantastic surgeon. I could make you one of the best. But the biggest thing is, you have to want it. So, Dr. Blake, do you want it?”
“I’m not sure.”
She tilts her head and asks the scrub nurse for an instrument. “Then I think you have your answer.”
“But what about the last two years in this program?”
“What’s two years versus the rest of your life?” she says, and I’m nearly left speechless. “Unless you have another reason.”
I shake my head, and she hums.
“The brain is such an interesting organ, it’s why I became a neurosurgeon. It’s the one organ we truly haven’t mastered. Sure, we understand the functions of the brain, what specific parts do. Yet there are still so many parts yet to be discovered, but what is most fascinating is how the organ operates and how it is so unique to each individual. Something so delicate yet so expanse captures the essence of who we are. The brain is the center of everything.”
It’s the most I’ve ever heard her speak, and it’s clear that she’s passionate. She’s not just a mindless cutter who likes doing surgery and pushing herself for no reason. Being a brain surgeon is her passion.
“Has anything ever spoken to you like the brain speaks to me?” she asks. I swallow thickly and nod my head. “Then you have your answer. It will be unfortunate to train someone who isn’t as thorough, but I will find a way to survive,” she says, and I swear that it was sarcasm, but I can’t be sure.
“Thank you, Dr. Mayfield.”
“We will keep this discussion between us until you make a decision.”
“I appreciate your discretion,” I say. This weight keeps lifting off my chest with each declaration. I can do this.
At least, I think I can.
* * *
I need to shower and sleep for a significant amount of time. I’m so tired that I’m not even sure how I’m functioning.
Maybe a bath with some bath salts will do the trick. I’m about to head into the bathroom when Owen leaves. We bump into each other, and automatically our hands go to each other's biceps. I give his muscles a tight squeeze. I love his body, and I wish I could touch more of it. He works so hard for the tone he has, and it shows; I want to lick every inch.
“Hey,” he says softly.
We’re about the same height, and I look into his beautiful blue eyes and sigh. “Hey.”
We haven’t talked about the other night or how it affected either of us. I can’t decide if it was the right thing to do or not, but all I know is that it felt right. Alexi felt amazing, and having Owen’s eyes on me made the experience even more thrilling. It’s not something I’ve experienced before. I mean, theoretically I knew if I was in a pack, there would be sharing and watching, but actually experiencing it is a whole other story.
His hand slides from my upper arm to my neck. It’s like a trail of fire where he touches me until he’s touching my jaw. His scent is choking me, and all I want to do is finally cave and give into this undeniable, magnetic push and pull we’ve found ourselves in.
