Page 70 of One Reckless Night

Taylor moved quickly, clearing the field of view. The tumor was nestled deeper than the scans had suggested, pressing against a critical artery.

“That’s not good,” Taylor whispered.

“No, it isn’t,” I said as I reassessed the situation, mentally recalibrating my approach. One wrong move here—one slip—and it could be catastrophic.

“We’re going to need to adjust,” I muttered, more to myself than to anyone else. “Get me the micro instruments.”

Taylor handed them over without question, her eyes flicking between me and the monitors. I could feel her tension. She trusted me. They all trusted me.

And yet, in that moment, I felt anything but trustworthy.

I steadied my hand and began the painstaking process of separating the tumor from the artery. Each millimeter felt like an eternity. My mind raced ahead to every possible complication. This was a tightrope walk through a hurricane but I stayed calm, collected.

This was what I did. This was who I was. This was why I couldn’t afford distractions like love in my life.

“Towel,” I said.

The nurse quickly patted my brow. I pushed everything from my mind. It was just me, the tumor, and my patient’s brain.

There were some tricky moments, and the surgery took twice as long as we had scheduled but the patient made it through. When he woke up, we would see if there were any unexpected consequences, but for now, it seemed to have gone off without a hitch.

I walked to my office and sat down. That had been a difficult surgery. I hated when shit went sideways. I rubbed my hands over my face and reached for the bottle of orange juice. I needed to hydrate and get some food after that surgery.

Shawn walked in about fifteen minutes later. “Heard you had a rough one.”

I nodded. “Yeah, sneak attack.”

He chuckled and sat down. “You handled it, though. That’s what matters.”

“Handled it” wasn’t the phrase I would’ve used. More like survived it. I took another swig of orange juice.

“You okay? You look troubled. Did something go wrong with the patient? The charts looked good.”

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. “I’m just tired.”

“Well, don’t let anyone else see you tired,” he said. “People might realize you’re actually human.”

I let out a long breath. “I certainly don’t feel human most days. Emotions are a burden.”

Shawn shrugged. “Feelings are how you know you’re alive. So of course, they annoy you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Can you take these case files to Amelia?”

It was a little junior high, but I didn’t have the energy to look at her right then. The surgery had drained me.

Shawn looked confused. “Amelia?”

“Yes, Amelia. Can you drop them off to her?”

“You don’t know?” he asked.

My stomach dropped. “Don’t know what?”

Shawn hesitated. He looked very uncomfortable. That didn’t bode well. “Amelia’s not here.”

“Like she’s out sick?” I asked.

“No. She had to leave for Miami a few mornings ago. She’s on bereavement leave now.”