Page 508 of End Game

“Why would you?”

“How is she?”

“Better. Gap's closing. Glucose is coming down. Potassium dropped, so they're replacing it. She's sleeping.”

“Good.” He means it.

Not reassuring me.

Assessing what I told him and agreeing.

“They're doing a good job, the ICU, that is.”

“I know.” Holden studies me for a second.

I lean back against the counter. “Sorry.”

“Don't be.”

For a few seconds, neither of us says anything.

“I'm not on her case, by the way,” he informs me.

“I figured.”

“Residents have it. Straightforward enough that unless something changes, I probably wouldn't have been involved beyond hearing about her on rounds.”

“That's good.”

“It is.”

Holden watches me. “You're doing the medical person thing.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where you're trying to be the medical person because everybody else needs you to be.”

My eyes move to his.

He gives me a tired half-smile. “I've been in your shoes.”

Something about the way he says it tells me not to ask for the story.

So I don't.

He continues, “Different circumstances. Same basic problem.”

I look down at the water. “The guys keep asking me questions.”

“Of course they do.”

“And I can answer most of them.”

“That can turn into a trap.”

I laugh once.

No humor in it. “Yeah.”