“We should probably remove his pants.” Claudia’s voice broke through the cacophony. “That secondary wound looks like it was torn down toward his pelvis. Could’ve pierced his appendix.”
A good observation, one I’d neglected to give attention to. Too caught off guard by this mere coincidence of clashing fantasies.
Scissors were placed in my hand again, the sharp tips meeting the waistband of the other half of his uniform and splitting it easily in two sections. Tongs were set in my other hand, helping peel back the first layer from his crusted skin, the flash of lace distracting me immediately.
The curved band lay perfectly flat against his skin. White lace with silver threads knitted into the luxurious looking fabric. A small, ribbon rose was sewn onto the waistband, directly below his pierced navel.
My heart gave a dull thump.
“Here.” Violet moved into my space, grabbing his pants by both sides and yanking them down to rid him of the stained clothing.
She tossed them into the disposal bin as soon as she got them over his ankles.
A wave of annoyance washed over me—uncharacteristic, especially under the harsh lights of the OR. Here I was calm, collected, levelheaded to a fault. My judgment clear and concise, no matter who was on my table.
I was Dr. Montgomery first and Silas second. None of that ever changed, even when Marlow had been on my table with his shattered leg and broken and bruised body.
Here, now, I felt the whispers of emotions. Dredging up from the corners of whatever waste pit I’d dropped them into years ago. Small sparks that had my hands tightening around my instruments and a scolding burning on the tip of my tongue.
What good would it do? Violet was merely doing her job. Touching the patient was a necessary thing in times of crisis. Stabilizing him needing to take priority above all else.
A tightening in my gut. Another wave—possessiveness?—slapped me hard enough to force me into stepping back from the table.
Ridiculous. Useless in an OR trying to save someone’s life.
What did I care what this man got up to in his free time?
Save the cop. Ask yourself questions later.
Perhaps Marlow was right. Perhaps I spent too much time in this damn hospital. Perhaps Avery’s constant jabs and not-so-subtle hints of my singleness were beginning to wear on my psyche. Relationships were a bore and a bother and nothing I wished to engage in.
I had no time to placate the emotions of another, barely having enough bandwidth as it was to cater to my friends.
Occupying my time with a warm body in my bed for a few weeks, however?
Not a bad idea.
Clearly a purge needed to happen. Getting distracted mid-surgery was unlike me.
Actually, it was unheard of.
“Iodine,” I called out, shoving the handles of scissors Claudia’s way.
A stick met my hand, lights above me getting moved to focus on the still bleeding abdomen. A scalpel traded for the iodinestick once the skin was prepped and ready to be cut open. My hands precise as they hovered over the first spot.
A quick glance at the vitals. Stable for now. An improvement to how he came to me, better once I had these cauterized.
Let’s see what you’re hiding in here.
CHAPTER 4
Silas
Penetratingabdominal trauma caused by two stab wounds: one in the right lower quadrant and one in the midline. Suffered profound blood loss from active arterial bleeding from a branch of the inferior epigastric artery, and traumatic injury to the left side of the appendix. Exploratory laparotomy performed; cauterizing and repair of abdominal injuries; partial appendiceal repair (serosal suture); blood transfusion: 2 units. Patient placed under general anesthesia?—
The stringent scent of vanilla hand sanitizer made me pause my fingers from continuing to glide over the keyboard. “Something you need, Violet?”
She cleared her throat—her telltale sign of embarrassment for being caught reading over my shoulder. “Your patient is awake.”
