Chapter 12 Xander
XANDER
“Xander?” Knuckles knock twice on the door to the locker room, then Fred’s head appears in the gap. “You done?”
Resting on the bench, I nod slowly and stifle a yawn. “Yes. What’s up?”
“You good?” Fred walks further into the locker room and squints at me. “Why were you sitting in the dark?”
“My patient died.” Three simple words that will change the world for any relatives waiting outside.
I didn’t know the patient.
I was called in to work on them after an emergency, and I did my job, but as soon as I arrived in the theater, it was clear there was no way they were going to survive.
I did everything I could but they died, and it still feels like their blood is clinging to my fingers.
“Shit.” Fred sighs. “That’s rough. You notified the next of kin?”
I shake my head. “He wasn’t my patient so I don’t know who they were.”
“Whose patient?”
“Leo’s.”
“Shit. I’ll tell him. He’ll notify them.”
I nod, continuing to stare down at my hands.
Last night was fantastic with Snow.
It was bold and new and my body still tingles with the faintest ghost of her imaginary touch.
How quickly my days can change.
It makes me want more with her, a snatched moment here and there to satisfy this craving inside me and this new burst of life she’s granted me.
Such a stark contrast to the death I’ve dealt with today.
“Not to rub salt in the wound, but Jules wants to speak to you.”
The Head of the Board? I lift my head and meet Fred’s gaze. “About what?”
Fred shrugs as his limited sympathy dries up and his trademark cocky smile is back. “Who knows? Maybe they’re finally firing your ass for showing the rest of us up. Anyway, he sent me to find you so when you’ve got a sec…”
Trailing off, he jerks his thumb behind him and then vanishes.
The door closes softly and darkness envelops me once more.
Remaining detached from patients on my surgery table is the only way to survive this profession, but each one I lose, no matter how destined it was, leaves a mark.
Life is short and precious.
After cleaning myself up and making myself presentable, I head up the elevator to the chief’s office.
Jules is hunched over his desk, studying something intently when I arrive and knock on his open door.
“Sir?”
Jules’ head snaps up. “Ah! Xander. Come in, come in. Shut the door, would you?”
I oblige and walk closer to his desk. “You wanted to see me?”
Curious, I peer past his hunched-over form to see a miniature jigsaw puzzle next to his keyboard, a few pieces shy of completion.
“Do you dabble?” Jules catches my eye.
“In jigsaws? No, I don’t.”
“Shame. You should.” Jules slides one last piece into place and grins. “It keeps the mind and the eyes sharp, you know. You’ll appreciate that when you get to my age.”
“I’m not that far off,” I reply with a polite smile.
“Nonsense!” Jules waves his hand and takes his seat. “If I were still pushing forty, I’d be throwing myself at every hotshot surgery to roll through this place.” His brow twitches. “But you’re not.”
“I like where I am.”
“Trauma, really?” He steeples his fingers together as he sits. “You’re an excellent surgeon, Xander. Are you sure Trauma is where you want to leave your talents?”
“Leave them, sir?”
Jules beams suddenly. “Of course! You’ve heard the good news, I’m sure.”
Confusion swirls in my chest while I replay my last few conversations with Jules, but nothing sticks out. “I’m not sure I have.”
“You’re up for promotion,” Jules replies excitedly. “Surely, you knew this.”
“Oh.” I vaguely recall an email a few months ago thanking me for my years of work and the potential for promotion, but I hadn’t given it much thought. “I think it slipped my mind.”
“Of course.” Jules nods. “A man like you is so focused on your craft, giving your all to this place. Paperwork is hardly ideal. But I wanted to tell you in person that because of your pristine record, your exemplary skills, and your raw talent, I’m recommending you as the Chief of Surgery’s replacement. ”
I’m not sure I’m hearing him correctly. “The… replacement? What happened to Hillary?”
“Yes! She’s retiring and you are the best man to take her place.”
Something sharp curls in my gut. “That’s… generous, but I’m happy—”
“Nonsense.” Jules cuts me off immediately.
“It’s high time she passed on the mantle and I’ve already spoken to the rest of the Board.
I know how you feel about these things, but look at you, Xander.
So much of you is wasted in your current role.
And I thought you would have doubts about accepting such a promotion, and there are still a few details to iron out with some other surgeons, which is why I’m making sure you take over as soon as she leaves until the position is officially filled.
” He winks at me and grins as if there’s a chance I miss the implication.
He’s forcing me into this role, temporarily, in the hopes that I will end up becoming stuck and have no choice but to accept it officially.
“Jules, I appreciate the offer but I’m really not—”
“Okay, listen.” He cuts me off once more.
“Hillary is being fired, but we’re keeping it quiet.
She’s had some ahem… drug abuse issues that are being handled, but the last thing this hospital needs is a scandal, so I’m afraid you have no choice.
Unless you quit!” He laughs but cuts himself off abruptly. “Don’t do that.”
I need to turn it down.
I’m not suited for office work and paperwork.
I live for the operating table, but his mention of a scandal keeps me quiet.
Does Snow count?
She’s my patient and she works under me, never mind how much younger than me she is.
Does that count as a scandal?
Deep down, I know it does, but as soon as I acknowledge it, I excuse it.
Snow’s a friend and I’m helping her out.
And it’s just sex.
We’re not in a relationship, and we haven’t even slept together so I’m not breaking any real rules.
Not technically, at least.
“Sir—”
“I’m glad that’s sorted,” Jules says, picking up the phone. “There are some details to iron out, but I’ll be in touch when it’s time for you to step into your new role. Cheer up, Xander. This is great news!”
I leave the office in a daze, struggling to gather my thoughts.
Am I really the best for this role?
I’ve dreamed of being Chief before, but not for at least another ten years.
I live for the thrill and the fast-paced days in Trauma, not slow days dealing with the Board and more.
Snow isn’t an issue, though.
We’re not anything important, no matter how hard it was to leave her this morning without saying goodbye.
We’re just friends and I’m helping her through a tough time.
Simple.
It’s not so simple a few hours later when she calls me and my heart leaps like a giddy teenager.
“Snow? Is everything alright?”
“Hi! Yes, everything is fine. I wanted to say thank you for the number of that lawyer. I’m going to have lunch with her tomorrow. And to thank you for everything you’ve done, helping me yesterday and with this, I’m saying thank you by cooking you dinner tonight!”
“Snow, you don’t have to—”
“I insist! See you when you get home!”
Home.
Oddly, it doesn’t bother me that she cut me off or that she called my place home.
If my lawyer friend of a friend can help her get her money back, then that’ll be amazing.
Everything she told me sounds so overwhelming, and I can’t quite understand how she’s keeping herself together, so helping her feels like second nature.
But it’s not just that.
She’s beautiful.
Her teasing last night almost killed me and my shoulders still ache from how hard I was holding myself back.
Depending on how her results come back, I’m not sure how much longer I can hold myself back, and it truly gets put to the test when, six hours later, I let myself into my apartment to the greeting meows of my cats, a mouthwatering scent of curry, and a stunning sight.
Snow, sitting naked on my kitchen counter with a teasing, knowing smile on her face. “Surprise!”