His laugh cracked out of him in a little burst of relief. “Sure. Just two strangers in scrubs, sir.”
I shook my head. “Sir?”
“Not your kink?” he asked, then winced. “Sorry. Didn’t mean anything by it.”
“That mouth is trouble,” I muttered even as I bit down on a smile. Afternoon heat crackled around us—almost physical in its weight, my shirt clinging to the small of my back.
“I’d like to point out,” he said with great dignity and a glint in his eyes, “that I could have made a quip and didn’t.”
“Amazing self-restraint.” My voice was dry, only for my brain to flash back to the hotel room—how he’d dropped to his knees, hands behind his back,Jesus. Not helpful.
“I’d like to think so.” He took a step back, hesitated. “So, I guess we’re done?”
I nodded. “We are. See you tomorrow, Dr. Hayes.”
He flashed me a half smile. “Thank you.”
“What for?”
“Wanting to move past this, I guess.” His throat worked. “And for the record, I really enjoyed that night.”
A knot tugged loose behind my sternum. “Perfectly irrelevant, but—yeah. Same.”
His mouth tugged up into something soft and wry, gone far too fast. Then he opened the stairwell door, shot me one last look, and left. I exhaled, adrenaline ebbing away in a rush.
Okay—crisis contained. We could be professional about this. Supervisor and intern, clean paper trail, no solo time.
Not a problem.
FIVE
FINN
George Washington Bridge at dawn was a blur of headlights and river haze. By the time I pounded back across, Manhattan wore an iridescent halo as if it had been plugged directly into the sun. I felt…calm. Or something close to it, anyway. Hopefully, outrunning my nerves for six miles meant they’d spend the rest of the day catching up.
I grabbed a fresh set of scrubs from the dispenser and showered in the resident locker room. After a detour to the staff lounge for vaguely drinkable coffee from a knock-off Nespresso machine, I made it to the skills-center lecture bay before the clock hit seven a.m. Two dozen other interns milled around. Tessa waved me into the seat next to Khai.
“Morning.” Her headband, the same shade of pink as her hair, saidTrauma Queen. “You look awake. I resent that.”
“It’s called endorphins. You should try them sometime—they’re free.” I fished for a grin and fitted it onto my face, forced myself not to glance at everyone else in the room. Turned out my nerves were good at playing tag.
Prove you belong.
“You mean, like, exercise?” Khai asked. “No, thanks. I’d rather get another hour of sleep.”
“Smart,” Tessa told him.
“I have my moments,” he said, with a shy little smile that made me want to coo at them. Living vicariously through others for the next few years was a perfectly legitimate life choice. Just then, chief resident Dr. Garcia strode in, clicker in hand.
“He missed his calling as a special operations commander,” Tessa whispered, and Garcia shot her a look as if he’d heard it.
“Eyes up, scrubs,” he announced. “We’ve got business.”
The lights dimmed as a slide was projected onto the wall.The Suture Bowl, it said in superhero letters, bursts and all, with the NFL trophy pasted into the right bottom corner of the screen.
Oh, fuck—the competition. I’d almost forgotten.How.
I swallowed thickly just as Garcia continued, “Two-day throwdown. Winner moves straight into a three-month pediatric surgery rotation—one that finishes with an assist in separating thoraco-omphalopagus twins in late October.”
