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I roll my eyes and grumble under my breath. “I don’t want easy, and I love the challenge, but you gave us one night.”
“That’s all I had to figure it out as the resident on the case. One night. My attending wanted the patient discharged because he felt it was cut and dry and I didn’t. Imagine the patient is before you and this is the only information you have because that’s how it will be. One patient in front of you with only the information at your fingertips and you’re expected to diagnose and either fix them or save them.”
He’s right. This is what I’ve been training for. What I’ve always wanted to do.
“Fine.” I turn back to my laptop, reading through everything I have.
Suddenly, I hear him set his book down and slide in behind me. We had dinner together and I didn’t make a thing about it. We talked and laughed, and it was a date. It was. I know it was. He made sure I felt that too, and I didn’t stop it because Ilikedhim wanting it to be one.
But now I’ve removed my hoodie—well, his hoodie—and I’m only wearing my Red Sox cropped T-shirt that was once Amelia’s. She decided it was somehow unlucky, so now it’s dead to her. The woman is more superstitious than any player ever could be.
I digress. Or maybe I’m simply distracted because the shirt is soft and old, and his strong, warm hands are under it. Going up and up and up as his thumbs and fingers rove circles into the flesh of my back.
My head lolls back and I moan. “How did you know my back was a hot mess?”
“I can tell you’re tense.” He continues to massage me under my shirt as he shifts in behind me, adjusting so his legs are straddling me from behind. “Talk it out with me, Layla.”
Oh, say my name like that again. Pant it against my ear.
“You expect me to concentrate when you’re doing that to me?”
“I can stop.”
I give him a menacing side-eye. “Do and die. Keep going. I’ll talk.”
“Tell me about the case as if you’re presenting the patient to me first.”
“This feels like a trap.”
“It’s not,” he assures me. “If anything, it’s good practice.”
“Six-year-old female presented to the emergency room accompanied by her mother, complaining of fevers of unknown origin times two weeks, abdominal pain especially in the right lower quadrant, and lethargy. The emergency room worked her up including a chest x-ray that was negative and an abdominal ultrasound. Ultrasound showed inflamed loops of bowel in the lower right quadrant that likely explained her pain in that region. Her appendix was inappreciable. Labs revealed an elevated white count indicating some form of infection. Urinalysis revealed the patient had a UTI. They discharged her home on oral Bactrim, only the patient rebounded inpatient within forty-eight hours. This is where I take over.”
“Yes. That’s where I met her.”
His hands continue rubbing my neck and shoulders, massaging me, coaxing me along and into a slightly lulled state.
“I’m assuming since she rebounded and was readmitted and you’re giving us this case study to work on, it’s more than a simple UTI or kidney infection.”
“You tell me.”
I sigh, giving myself a moment to simply enjoy what he’s doing. “I ordered a renal and bladder ultrasound that was negative, and her repeat urinalysis was also negative, but she’s also on Bactrim, so that’s to be expected.” I sigh, sinking into his hands. “You’re insanely good at that.”
“I think you already know how talented my hands and fingers are, especially when it comes to your body.”
“You’re flirting again,” I accuse, unable to hide the smile from my voice.
“Actually, I was being overtly sexual, but call it what you want.”
My smile widens, but I quickly redirect us back to what I should be focused on. My work.
“I don't know what she has,” I admit.
“That's the point. You're supposed to figure it out.”
I roll my eyes in derision. “Thanks, Professor. I’m ruling out pyelonephritis (kidney infection) because the Bactrim seems to be working and now they have her on it through her IV just in case. She’s still having abdominal pain and I ordered a repeat ultrasound since a CT scan isn’t advisable in children so young if it can be avoided. Ultrasound was unchanged, and the loops of the bowel are still inflamed. It could be appendicitis, but I don’t think so. She’s been sick for over two weeks, and I believe it would have ruptured by this point or at least been visible on ultrasound if it was very inflamed.”
“What else?” he commands, his voice low and rough, his warm breath brushing along my exposed neck, and I stifle my whimper.
