“Good for me then.” She lifted her glass in a salute, and we both drank. “It was a rush though, you know what I mean? I just felt right. Like everything locked into place.”
I nodded rapidly. I knew exactly what she meant. “That’s what I feel when it all goes right. It’s like a drug.”
“Like getting high.” She laughed a little. “Not like I know much about that.”
“You don’t? Never even smoked a joint in college?”
“No, never, wasn’t my thing. What about you?”
“Same here, actually.”
She gave me a look. “Come on, it’s fine. I’m not going to run off and talk to that private investigator.”
I smirked a little. “I believe you, but it’s true. I’ve always liked for my mind to be my own. Drugs always felt like I was relinquishing control to something else.”
“A lot of people like that.”
“I definitely don’t.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised.” She frowned at me a little bit. “Were you always like this?”
“Like what?” I took a long drink as more folks from the hospital filed in. I nodded at a couple I recognized, and they waved back, but nobody approached.
That was fine. I’d built a bubble around myself over the years. I was friendly with most of the doctors, on good enough terms with the nursing staff, and ignored everyone else. I knew some of them disliked me, and more than a few hated me, but it didn’t matter, so long as we got the job done.
Surgery was my calling, and it was my only friend. I was the best, but sometimes—I wondered if it was worth the price.
Then again, days like today made me think yes, absolutely yes, it was all worth it, so long as I could feel this way, and save these lives.
“You know. Surly. Difficult. You hold people at arm’s length. I’ve seen you do it.”
I looked down into my drink. “Not always,” I said. “I grew up in the suburbs around here. Went to a decent high school. Got decent grades. I had friends, ran track, was kind of popular.”
“Popular?” She laughed a little. “I could see it. I bet you wore Hollister.”
“Gelled my hair. Flipped it up in the front.”
“Oh my god. That was such a look.”
“It was before your time.” I glanced at her, grinning. “I guess I’m not that much older than you, though.”
“Ten years, right? I mean, that’s not so long. Close to Rees’s age.”
“Ten years,” I repeated, shaking my head, drinking my gin. “I used to be the young hotshot. Now I’m the old man, taking his resident out for a drink.”
“Don’t get all maudlin on me.”
“I won’t, don’t worry,” I said.
“Tell me more about how popular you were,” she said. “Did you steal alcohol from your parents and get drunk on weekends?”
“Absolutely,” I said, smiling a little. “All that changed in college though. I got more serious, realized that I wanted to do with my life, and fell into medicine. I never really looked back. It’s been my whole existence ever since.”
“Sounds almost lonely.”
“But it’s not, not really.”
“Are you close with your parents?” she asked.
“I talk to my mom on the phone once a week. And I try to get lunch with my dad at least once or twice a month.”
“What, your mom doesn’t come?”
I shook my head. “Parents divorced and she lives out near the shore. Too long of a drive.”
“Ah, I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be. What about you? Parents? Siblings?”
“Mom passed five years ago,” she said. “I have one younger brother who is a total shithead that still lives with my dad, even though he has an accounting degree.”
“I’m sorry about your mom,” I said, tilting my head. I could only imagine what it would be like to lose a parent so young.
“It was a bad time,” she said, and I could tell she didn’t want to get into it.
“I know why you went with surgery, but how’d you end up in medicine to begin with?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I guess I always wanted to be a doctor.”
“And you’re lucky to have a cousin on the board,” I said, teasing her.
“I guess so,” she said, staring down at her hand. “I don’t really know Rees all that well, honestly. He got into tech when he was like eighteen and founded this company—I think they do like cloud storage.”
“Strange that he’d go to such lengths to get you placed as my resident,” I said, frowning a bit. “If you’re really not close, I mean.”
“I agree,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t understand, and I didn’t ask him for it. We haven’t really talked since I was a kid.” She tapped her fingernail against her glass. “Can I admit something to you?”
“Of course.”
“I used to want to be a vet.”
I leaned back and studied her, then laughed. I couldn’t help myself. Picturing her working on animals, instead of people—it would’ve been such a waste of talent.
And it was right then, laughing with her in the bar, that I realized she was a very gifted surgeon. Maybe I knew it, on some level, the whole time—maybe that was why I let her close for me so quickly, or maybe that was why I agreed to train her at all. I could’ve pushed back harder and maybe even won that argument.
But she was good. I knew she was good the first moment I saw her touch those instruments. Even if she wasn’t perfect, there was still talent lurking beneath her skin, and I knew I could coax it out if given some time.
I felt proud of her. It was strange, and something I’d never experienced before, but her accomplishments felt like my own. I wanted her to succeed almost as much as I wanted to succeed.
I finished my gin. And shook my head. “I want to make a deal with you.”
“Another deal?” She grins and drinks down her beer. “I’m not sure I can handle more.”
I