19. Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
Colter
M y eyes flicker back and forth from the computer screen, to my office door, and back.
Annaliese should have been here by now.
Even if she was overly cautious with monitoring our patient post-op before transferring him to the floor, she should be here. Even if she dictated her notes twice before submitting them, she should be done by now. Even if she took an extended shower while cursing my name under her breath, she would have been here by now.
Even if she’s pissed at me, cursing the ground I walk on, I don’t think she’d leave without stopping to check in first. She’s not the type to ignore orders or not follow through with her job. And as frustrated as she likely is with me right now, I’m still her mentor and she still needs to check in with me at the end of each day.
I sigh as I close the screen on my laptop, standing to tuck it into my bag when the sound of a palm hitting my door handle causes me to look up.
Annaliese shoves my office door open, moving inside with such a fury I can see the heat blazing in her eyes. She slams it shut behind her, never once removing her eyes from me.
Good.
This is the version of her I want to see, especially in the OR. Not the insecure, hesitant side of her I saw before. That isn’t who she is deep down, and that isn’t something she wants to let herself feel when someone's life is in her hands.
“How's our patient?” I ask calmly, coming around to stand in front of my desk. I take a seat on the edge, crossing one ankle over the other and bringing my arms up to cross over my chest.
She scoffs, stepping another foot closer to me and crossing her own arms over her chest. “He’s alive. Transferred to the step-down unit. BP is stable. I put in orders to have hemoglobin and hematocrit checked every six hours. Notes are dictated. Report given to on-call team.”
I nod once. “Good. You can be done for the day then.” I go to stand, ready to say goodnight to her when she takes another step toward me, her shoes brushing on the carpet.
“Good. Good? You nearly let that man die on the table, and for what? To prove some God complex? To let me flounder like an amateur? So you can run back to daddy and tell him that he’s right, that I’m a failure?”
It’s my turn to scoff now. “He wasn’t even close to dying. He lost fifty, maybe 100cc of blood if we’re being generous. You acted quickly, even though it doesn’t feel like it to you. ”
Honestly, if it were me and that happened, I’d likely still have discharged the patient tonight without a second thought. I grab my bag from my desk, opening my drawer to pull out my phone and car keys when she circles around me to catch my face. “So if you weren’t worried about the patient, why didn’t you step in? Why did you leave me hanging?”
I pause, taking the moment to look at her, to truly look at her, and only now do I notice the red lining of her eyes. She’s changed from her scrubs and into a pair of jeans and a cream sweater. Her hair is still damp from the shower, and I can smell the coconut in her shampoo. Judging by the bloodshot eyes and lack of makeup, my guess is she spent a few extra minutes crying in the shower.
My gut clenches, and I set my items down, turning to face her. I tuck my hands in my pockets, not trusting myself to be in close proximity with her and keep them to myself.
“I would never truly leave you hanging,” I tell her, the words coming out cracked.
Her shoulders unclench a little at my words, but her arms are still firmly crossed over her chest.
“You doubted yourself. The second you nicked that artery and saw blood, I saw it in your face. You looked at me to jump in, to take over and save you, but that’s not what you needed.” I pause, searching her face, hoping my words are soaking in. “You don’t need someone to save you; you need someone who pushes you to save yourself. You need someone who hands you the tools so that you can make yourself stronger, and that’s what I did. If I truly thought you wouldn’t have been able to find the source of the bleed and stop it, or that someone's life would be in jeopardy because you couldn’t handle it, I would have absolutely taken over.” And many times, with other residents in the past, I’ve done just that. I’ve kicked residents out of my OR for mistakes made. But the faith I have in her kept me firmly rooted to my place.
Annaliese has spent most of her life proving herself to her dad. All she wants is for him to trust in her abilities and know that she will make the right decision for herself, for her career. He still sees her as a child, as someone that can be manipulated as his own little puppet. I may not be able to give her everything I want to, but I can give her this.
She purses her lips together as her eyes search mine for a moment before her arms drop to her sides and her shoulders sag. I can still see the faint tremble that plagues her hands, and I’m confident it’s not from her blood sugar. She turns away, darting her tongue out to lick her bottom lip before she speaks. “That was terrifying. For a second I thought he would bleed out in front of me. I can’t even count how many surgeries I’ve scrubbed in on, but that was a first. It was a sickening feeling, thinking that I had just killed someone.”
I want to interrupt and remind her that she was far from actually killing someone. We are a team and everyone in the OR would jump in to make sure that didn’t happen, but there’s something else behind this. Something tells me her worries are coming from a different source. So I bite my tongue, hoping she will continue.
“I thought I had given my dad another reason to doubt me.” She laughs, a quiet, gurgly sound, as the emotion thickens in her throat. She raises a hand up to swipe the tears that have gathered in her lower lids, and I find myself inching forward, reaching for her.
My hand finds hers, and I slowly tangle our fingers together, gently squeezing so she knows I’m here. My thumb rubs along her soft skin, urging her to continue.
“God,” she says through a chuckle, using her free hand to wipe her other eye. “This is so stupid. I’m almost a thirty-year-old woman still begging for daddy’s blessing. This is pathetic.”
I squeeze her hand, ushering her to look at me, and she pauses for a second, sniffling before turning to face me.
I let go of her to bring both hands up to grip the sides of her face. Her body sags a little, her hands coming to grip my biceps. “It’s not pathetic,” I tell her. And it’s not. The entire time I’ve known Richard, he led me to believe that his daughter was this flighty, naive little girl. The girl he spoke of is a far cry from the woman standing in front of me. The one I’ve gotten to know over the last few months. The one I know is strong. Fierce. She’s smart, kind, and lays herself on the line to care for others. “It’s not pathetic,” I tell her again. “And I’m going to need you to look at me when I tell you this.”
Ushering her chin up with my thumbs, I make sure her eyes stay locked on mine. “ You’re not pathetic. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting your dad to be proud of you.” I chuckle awkwardly. “I can relate to that, to wanting someone's approval so badly you drive yourself crazy trying to make it happen. But you…” I pause, my eyes darting back and forth across her face. “You don’t have anything left to prove. You are right where you should be, doing exactly what you were meant to be. You’re meant to be a surgeon, Annie.” I don’t miss the slight parting of her lips and the intake of breath at the mention of her nickname. “You will finish out the year here, then go back overseas, and be a hell of a surgeon. You will go on to have a successful career whether certain people are ready to acknowledge that or not.”
Somewhere along my speech, she moved closer to me. So close we’re chest to chest, and her hands have fallen to grasp my shirt, her hold so tight it’s like she’s using me as a lifeline. I loosen my grip a little, letting my hands slide around her neck to intertwine my fingers together. “I will not let you fail. Do you hear me?” I let my words sink in as my eyes dance across her face. “I. Will. Not. Let. You. Fail. Tell me you believe me.”
She smiles a soft, sad smile, and nods once, but it isn’t enough.
“Annie.” I tsk, squeezing her neck gently. “Tell me you’re a badass.”
She finally laughs, a melodic, beautiful laugh through her tears. “Stop,” she teases. “I get your point.” She tries to lower her arms to back away from me, but I keep her held close.
“That’s not what I asked you to do. Tell me you believe me. Tell me you’re a badass.”
Her gaze is back on my face, and she rolls her eyes at me, the act bringing a smile to my own. “You’re cute when you roll your eyes, but I’m still waiting.”
She huffs a laugh, her chest practically falling into mine. Her head lowers, and I say a silent “fuck it” before pulling her into me. I wrap my arms around her, and she immediately coils herself around my waist, her head falling to rest on the center of my chest. We hold each other for a quiet moment, the comfort radiating through my small office. I hold her for as long as she will let me. I think that if I squeeze her tight enough, I might be able to pull out some of that insecurity that drags her down.
“I’m a badass,” she finally murmurs against my chest, causing me to chuckle. I squeeze her once to release her with one arm, and bring my palm again to her chin to tilt her face up to mine.
“There, was that so hard to admit?”
She smiles, bringing her free hand up to playfully slap me, but I snatch it mid-air. We stumble to the side, and I catch her by the wrist, pushing her against the wall.
I meant the act to be playful, something to get her out of her own head and away from her bad thoughts, but the move has put us incredibly close.
She’s pinned between me and the wall, our bodies pressed up against one another the way they are every time I let my mind wander. She’s looking up at me, my hand that held her face has moved and my thumb now swipes gently against the apple of her cheek.
Her arms are back on me, running slowly up my arms to grab my biceps, and when she licks her bottom lip, I’m a goner.
“Annie,” I murmur, tilting my head so low my lips nearly brush hers as I speak. “We can’t do this.”
“You say that,” she whispers in the miniscule space between us. “Yet you’re the one who has me pressed against the wall.” She arches her back, the movement causing her breasts to rub against my chest, and through the chunky fabric of her sweater, I can feel everything. Blood courses through my veins, heartbeat galloping wildly in my chest.
“Your dad…” I trail off, cringing internally at the mention of his name in a moment like this.
She sighs heavily. “My dad is an asshole, we both know that. You can’t—”
We’re interrupted by the bellow of her dad laughing outside the door. My blood runs cold as I study the lack of space between us, knowing there is no way I could come up with an excuse that explains why I have Richard’s daughter pressed against the wall with my thigh between her legs.
I release my grip on her the same time she pushes me away, and she slides into the chair in front of my desk. I quickly pull out an old report I had saved and hand it over to her.
Her eyes fall to the paper just as Richard pushes my door open, and she pretends to study it as if it means something to her.
He calls over to me, not even acknowledging his daughter is in the room. “Colt,” he gestures over his shoulder. “My office. I have a case I want your opinion on.”
He exits in the same abrupt fashion he arrived in, leaving the door hanging open.
Annaliese tosses the papers on the table, her gaze locked on its place.
“I’m heading out after this,” I say to the awkward space between us. “Get a good night's sleep tonight, you’re on call the rest of the weekend.”