Chapter 31 #3
“I guess this is challenging me in ways I didn’t expect.
It’s been kind of nice to do something different; to step out of the OR for a bit and realize I can still be a good surgeon even when I’m not operating.
I always thought that surgery was everything, that my value was in how many cases I could do, how complex the procedures were.
But I’m seeing that’s not the whole picture.
” He pauses, his fingers drumming against his thigh.
“It’s made me think about other things too.
Like how much of my life I’ve structured around proving something.
To Peltz, to the hospital, to my dad.” He shakes his head slightly.
“Maybe I don’t have to keep quite so much distance to feel like my own person. But I don’t know. It’s still new.”
He says it almost to himself. I don’t push it, and I let him talk whatever’s on his mind out loud.
“The other thing is, I’ve essentially done all I can in my current role except take over Mr. Peltz’s position.”
I laugh, thinking about Peltz. A well-meaning man who’s a little oblivious and completely convinced he’s doing everyone a favor at all times. “Oh, you could do that if you wanted to. You’d be amazing at it.”
“I know, but do I really want that?” he counters, turning to face me fully. Our knees are almost touching now.
“I don’t know. Do you?”
He holds my gaze, and there’s something intense in his expression, something raw and honest. “No. I don’t.
That would entail a lot of ‘peopling.’” He makes air quotes with his fingers, showing me his more playful side.
“And as you know, that’s not my strong suit.
It’s not something I enjoy. I don’t want to manage other surgeons in other wards and deal with hospital politics and budgets and attend endless committee meetings.
I became a surgeon because I love the actual work of fixing things.
The less administrative crap, the better. ”
I nod. “That makes total sense. You became a surgeon to be hands on, not to play with paper.” Warmth spreads through my chest watching him talk about it. The way his whole face changes when he’s saying something he actually believes, the way he stops filtering himself.
“Exactly.” He looks relieved that I get it, that he doesn’t have to explain further.
Swallowing roughly, he suddenly stands and disappears into the kitchen. I pull the blanket over my lap, and he returns with a plate piled high with cookies and a tea for me. He sets them on the coffee table and settles back beside me, closer than before.
“I didn’t need that many.” Smirking, I pick one up along with my tea.
“Yeah, well, seems like I actually don’t mind this show.
” He reaches for a cookie himself. His knee presses against mine, deliberately this time; it’s not wishful thinking.
I know the difference between accidental contact and this.
We’ve had plenty of unintended touches since that night at his, and this is different.
He put it there and left it there, and neither of us has moved.
“So, I might be here for a bit. At least until this episode ends.”
I bite into the cookie, trying to focus on the taste and not the way my heart skips when his attention drifts to me.
When it ends, I don’t want to move. I want to start another episode and stay right here, with his knee against mine, the plate between us slowly emptying.
This is the closest we’ve been since his house—not physically, but in the way the air feels between us.
Like something we kept at a distance for so long has quietly slipped back in.
But I make myself reach for my crutches. “I should probably sleep. Early call-time tomorrow.”
“Yeah, of course.” He stands too, gathering the mugs and the plate.
I make my way to the bedroom slowly, and I’m propped up against the pillows, script open in my lap, he appears at the bedroom door.
“Goodnight,” he says, hesitating for a second, like he wants to say something else, but then just nods and heads for the front door. It opens and closes softly, the lock clicking into place.
I stare at the script without reading it.
Since his house, we’ve both been careful with each other.
Professional in the way people are when they’re both pretending something didn’t happen and both know the other is pretending too.
But tonight something shifted. The cooking together, his hands brushing mine over the measuring cup.
The way he talked about his dad and his career, like he’d finally stopped holding himself back.
The cookies. The show he stayed for. And then his knee against mine for an entire episode.
I have feelings for him. I’ve known that for a while now; said it out loud to Brooke.
But tonight I can feel it differently. It’s not the surgery, or the care, or even the proximity, though all of those cracked me open in a way I didn’t expect.
It’s the smaller things that have stacked up over time.
The way he notices when I’m in pain before I say anything.
The way he argues about paying for dinner, like it personally offends him to let me.
The way he spoke about his dad tonight, like he was testing whether it was safe to and kept going because it was.
The way he talks about medicine, like it’s the thing he was made for.
The way he made tea tonight without being asked, like it’s just what you do for someone you care about.
With a sigh, I get comfortable, but sleep doesn’t come easy.