Another bead of sweat as I began to stitch the patient closed. The nurses were quiet, and I realized that Piers hadn’t said a word the entire time. I’d gone through procedures on my own already, but he’d always stood over my shoulder, giving advice, making adjustments. He was a backseat driver, except he was the best driver in the world—and he made me better with every little comment.
Today though, nothing, only silence as he watched, arms crossed. I didn’t know why, and I didn’t question it. The nurses seemed uneasy, and that was fine. Piers had never given up control like this before, and I was willing to bet that they thought it was a bad thing for him to step aside.
But I knew I’d killed it.
Oh, bad choice of words.
I knocked it out of the park. Start to finish, that surgery went perfect. Each stroke felt right, and I was so deep in the zone that I forgot everything about me. As I finished up the final stitch, closing him, I looked over at Piers for some sign, some measure of approval, some hint of disaster.
He only nodded once. “That’s it,” he said. “Well done, Dr. Court.”
I felt a flood of emotions. Relief, excitement, horror. I went through that whole thing alone, all on my own, and although he’d been there if something had gone wrong—I hadn’t needed him, and could’ve done it without him.
That was a very, very good feeling.
We left the OR as the nurses finished up. I scrubbed off and changed, and he stood nearby, watching, his mask still covering his face. I exited out into the hallway and wanted to let out a wild yell of elation. Piers followed, taking off his mask.
“Well done,” he said again, smiling now.
I grinned at him. “Really?”
“Really. I would’ve said something if there was something to critique. But you did a fantastic job.”
I laughed and nearly hugged him. I was tempted, I wanted to throw my arms around his neck, but I held back. It was hard to keep my distance when every time he was around, I felt a pulse in my chest, a yearning for his skin, a memory of his touch. I had to resist it and find a way to shut that part of me down, at least for a while. When we were alone, I could indulge—kiss his chin, let his hands touch my hips—but in the hospital, I had to be professional.
And being professional killed me.
“I have to admit, hearing you say that feels really, really good.”
That made him smile. A rare thing, from Piers. “I’m glad. You earned it, to be honest. I’ve stood in on several surgeries in my time, and I never once felt the need to just shut up.”
“Dr. Hood, that might be the highest form of praise possible.”
“Of course it is, Dr. Court. Not many people can stun me into silence.”
We walked away from the surgery together, back toward his office. I buzzed on the elation, practically floating from the feeling of doing my job, and doing it right.
Something was different about Piers, too. For the past few weeks, he’d been trying harder, being a little kinder to the nurses, going out of his way to help out when he could. I knew people were beginning to notice, and even had a few of the nurses make comments to me. Apparently, some of them thought I was a good influence on him.
They probably thought we were sleeping together. They were right, but still.
He wasn’t joking when he said he wanted to change. It wasn’t perfect, of course—he was still Piers, still short with people that didn’t move as quickly as he wanted, still kind of a grumpy asshole—but he was improving a little bit each day.
“I was thinking,” he said when we were alone in the elevator, “maybe we could have dinner together. You know, as a celebration.”
My immediate reaction was, yes, of course yes, but I stopped myself, and reconsidered.
“I’m not sure,” I said, chewing my lip.
He didn’t react right away. “Why not?” he asked slowly.
“We’re trying to rehab your image, right? Taking your resident out for dinner is probably not going to help that.”
“That’s not unheard of, you know. A celebratory meal between colleagues.”
“Yes, but, everyone already thinks we’re sleeping together, so.”
He frowned deeply at that. “They do?”
“Of course they do.” I laughed nervously as we reached his floor and headed toward his office. We stopped talking as we walked through the halls, and I could tell he had a lot of questions. I tried to steel myself for an uncomfortable conversation.
Sure enough, as soon as the door shut, he swung toward me. “What do you mean, they think we’re sleeping together?”
I threw up my hands and sat on the edge of his desk. “I mean, the way you’ve changed lately, can you blame them?”