Beautifully Awake

“Fuck. Are you kidding? He’s the one who postponed my damn inservice. Guess he’s getting a crash course today. What’s the ETA, Hunter? I need to get this surgery going, the patient’s already asleep.”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Carl,” Chase barked at his not-so-favorite anesthesiologist. “Dr. Jennings, we ready to start?”

“Yeah, yeah. Go ahead.” Dr. Jennings stared up at some green numbers on the little screen on his cart like he was watching the series finale of Lost, never looking at Chase.

“Go scrub, Hunter.” Chase wasn’t asking. “Not happy about this, but get your ass in here.” He turned to look at Jackson who was scrubbed and ready, standing at the unconscious patient’s head. “Jack, you waiting for a fucking red carpet? Make the incision.”

Jackson was totally grinning beneath his mask when he made the incision. Before Chase stole him to be his personal PA, Jackson was used to doing most of the lazier surgeon’s cases. But Chase was more territorial over his patients. One night while we were lying in bed talking about the demands of being a surgeon, he told me he preferred to stay in the operating room from the first incision to the last bandage being taped. “My patient, my responsibility.”

I loved that about him. From that first day with Kelly, I saw how committed he was. Not to the job, but to the patient. If Chase was stepping out of the room, whatever was going on in the ER must be really important. He was not thrilled.

“Jack, you and Hunter dissect down. That’s all I want you to do. Understand?”

“Yeah, yeah. Colton, I’m good. Done this procedure hundreds of times.”

“I know, Jack. But I don’t want anything done while I’m gone. Got me? No fucking heroics.”

I was no expert, but dissecting down sounded pretty heroic on its own. Jackson didn’t flinch and I considered giving him a heads up once Chase left. By the way, dude, avoid doing “anything” above and beyond whatever he just said or didn’t say, because my Dr. Sexy can turn into a psycho instrument tray-throwing lunatic. I glanced over at a nervous looking Sam standing next to Jackson, and he gave me an eye raise. Clearly, he hadn’t forgotten the tray-throwing episode either. Yeah, I definitely liked my spot on the other side of the short curtain.

“Yeah, I got ya,” Jackson replied, steady and focused while Guy backed through the door with dripping wet hands.

“So, Colton, what’s this hypothermia catheter unit everyone keeps talking about ... cute sales rep talk you into being spokesperson or something?” Guy wasted no time asking questions, oblivious to the tension in the room.

My nervous stomach awakened. Not that similar questions weren’t ruminating in my head. Minus the cute sales rep crap.

“I developed it a few years ago.” His grey gaze captured my attention, searching for my reaction.

As in, invented? So this was the company Asher mentioned in Boston, maybe. I must have had disappointment written all over my face. Seemed like an interesting tidbit of information one would tell someone they worked with and spent several hours a day naked with.

How much longer could I sit around and wait for him to open up? About anything. About everything. I knew so little about this man.

The man who a week ago held me tighter than I have ever been held, kissed my hair all night long, and never uttered a word because he knew that’s what I needed.

The man who didn’t push or ask what happened at Sierra’s that same night to turn me into a bitchy texter.

The man who arranged romantic lunches at different quaint restaurants all over Center City because he knew I wanted to be discreet until this rotation was over, while he made it perfectly clear he couldn’t care less who knew about us.

The man who added an evening run to his workout routine so I wouldn’t be alone—even though he woke up at four to hit the gym, leaving me to sleep in until my personal Starbucks delivery arrived.

The man who scheduled a full spa day for Sierra and me this past Saturday while he was on call, as long as I promised to spend the entire next day with him, naked. Hard bargain.

Not to mention he was the man who made me lose count somewhere after forty-something. Were my expectations really that high?

Maybe I needed to give the man a break. Not everyone held a dark secret. Not everyone was me.

He suffered a devastating loss that he wasn’t ready to talk about, or at least not with me. And he invented some crazy piece of medical equipment. No surprise there. He was exceptionally brilliant and insanely wealthy.

“Colton, that’s sweet.” Jackson’s enthusiasm drew me out of my head. “Had a patient hooked up last month, worked like a charm. Bitch of a machine to work though.”

“How’s it work? You really invented it?” Guy followed, looking genuinely interested.

Chase, on the other hand, not so much. His eyes darkened while his chest rose and fell at a slightly faster rate. Long moments of silence filled the room before his authoritative teaching tone deteriorated to condescension. “It’s not a new fucking science, Hunter, just better equipment. This shouldn’t be news to you as a third year. It’s a metal-lined catheter and a control unit used to induce therapeutic hypothermia. Helps minimize brain damage after traumatic head injuries. You can also use it for cardiac arrest, strokes and newborns. Lowers body temperature, less chance of longterm injury. You obviously need a brush up.” I tensed and looked away cringing. He really was being mean to Guy. “I expect you at surgical grand rounds tomorrow morning for my inservice.”

The circulating nurse cut in, “Dr. Colton, sorry to interrupt, but the call just came in—the helicopter will be here in three minutes.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. Then we’ll finish the awake part of the case.” They both nodded in agreement. “Carl, do me a favor, if it’s not too much to ask, try and do your fucking job and make sure my patient stays asleep.”

I hated to say it, but Carl really was such a wet noodle. He kind of disappeared into the background. No wonder Chase was on edge. He made it perfectly clear he didn’t trust Carl’s judgment or like working with him. Chase basically banned him from all his cases. Obviously vacation schedules trumped surgeon’s requests.

Chase ripped his gown and gloves off and stormed out of the room without a glance back.

The last awake OR case I sat in on was the god-awful bloodbath almost two weeks ago. Who would have thought something so terrible that ended with the kiss of all kisses would lead to whatever the hell you would say we were doing. Secretly dating, fucking, semi-cohabitating. Keep telling yourself that’s all it is, Lil. Believe it or not, I looked forward to today after I saw an awake case on the schedule. Chase, in his element, was awesome. Intense, focused, and dominant. It reminded me of him in bed. I hoped the heat in my cheeks was hidden under the mask. Not the time or place for those thoughts.

Thankfully Guy snapped me out of my mental movie before it passed PG-13. “What the hell crawled up Colton’s ass? Dude, he’s like a chick with the mood swings. No offense, doll.”

It was crazy how surgeons had whole conversations without ever looking up. Eyes always on the field, hands moving meticulously while discussing pure nonsense.

“Hey!” I couldn’t think of anything else to say, but I wasn’t letting that little comment go.

“What? I didn’t mean you, Lili. Maybe Colton should take whatever pill you do, because he’s a fucking bear when he’s ragging it.” The men erupted with laughter. More like the boys. Minus the wet noodle, of course.

“Guy, you fucking kill me!” Jackson said. “I can’t believe you just said ragging it. I’ll take Colton’s PMS any day over what’s probably going on in Sam’s house. Pregnancy, man. Heard it’s like ragging it twenty-four, seven.”

“Really, man? Why’d you have to bring me into this? Remember—intern here. I’m having a hard enough time just standing here right now?” Sam was awesome. First intern in three years I adored from day one.