She nodded and left. Jasper turned back to the closed OR doors.
The next three hours crawled by. He sat in the residents’lounge, paced the corridor, sat again. Every fifteen minutes he stopped a nurse.
“Just check. Everything on track?”
“I’ll find out, Doctor,” Lila replied—for the third time—her worry palpable.
And Jasper was alone again. Walking in circles. Opening and closing his phone. Trying not to think—and failing.
Finally, he snapped and walked to his office.
He slammed the door, but the pressure didn't ease. His temples throbbed like his skull might split open. He crossed to the coffee machine, hit the button, waited for it to hum to life. He wanted a cigarette, even though he’d promised his daughter he’d quit.
When the coffee was ready, he lifted the cup and forgot it was hot. Burned his tongue.
For the tenth time in half an hour, he checked his phone. Nothing.
He grabbed a paper cup of water and hurled it at the trash can. Ran a hand slowly down his face.
He was a doctor. He was used to acting. And right now, nothing depended on him—and that pissed him off more than anything. He opened his contacts, found the name he needed. Hit call. Nolan answered almost immediately.
“Jasper? If you’re calling to lecture me again about scheduling surgery, pick another day. Today’s already crap.”
“Nina was in a car accident. She was brought in just now.”
Silence.
“How bad?”
“Critical. She’s in surgery.”
Jasper took a breath and finally said what he’d been holding back.
“I need you to use your channels. Find out everything about the accident. The other driver. Where they came from. What actually happened. I’ve got a bad feeling.”
“You think it wasn’t an accident?”
“Knowing her husband? It’s possible.”
“Alright. Give me some time.”
“Make it fast, Nolan.”
“Got it. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”
Jasper clenched his jaw and sat on the edge of the desk—just as the door opened.
“It’s done,” Lila said.“The surgery was successful. She’s in ICU. Stable.”
For the first time all night, Jasper exhaled.
Air, absent for hours, flooded his lungs.
“Thank you,” he said, exhaustion crashing down on him like concrete.
***
He woke to the sense of someone nearby. His neck ached. But he hadn’t been able to leave. Something had kept him there, unwilling to let her be alone.
