AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I know,” the other resident whispers. “I heard he’s divorced. You think he’s looking for wife number two?”
They both snicker. “Gah, I can only hope so. Oh, but listen to this,” her friend murmurs conspiratorially. “My cousin is an intensivist at Mayo and he told me that Dr. Lawson was forced into resigning. That’s why he left there and came here.”
My eyes bulge, but I do my best to hold in my reaction.
“Forced into resigning?” the other resident hisses under her breath. “For what?”
“No clue. But it has to be pretty bad to get fired, right?”
“For real. I’m shocked they hired him here if he was fired from Mayo.”
“No joke. Whatever the reason, the hospital kept it quiet.”
I return my attention to Bennett, not sure what to make of that.
“I appreciate your time, and I’m always available if you ever need anything,” he finishes, giving a small but firm smile.
In a beat, he’s surrounded by people welcoming him—naturally, Cricket is first—and I linger back, insatiably curious about what I overheard. I pull out my phone and do a quick Google search, but nothing comes up other than a brief press release from Mayo stating that Dr. Bennett Lawson has stepped down as the chief of trauma surgery. That’s it. No reasons are provided, and it says he stepped down, but then again, I don’t think press releases usually go into nefarious details about firings.
I glance back up at him, watching him from afar. This stiff man with his rough lines and stern voice is so different from the one I encountered yesterday. So different from the man I had known for a year of my life.
Whatever happened to him, whatever his reason for leaving or being forced out, he’s different. Cold. Detached. Distant. Keegan said she heard he was a jerk. I haven’t seen that from him at all, so I think that might just be a rumor and nothing more. Regardless, I think there’s a lot more going on with Dr. Bennett Lawson than anyone here knows about.
Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter, I decide. His personal business isn’t mine to know, nor does it impact what I’m here to do. I make my way over to him once most of the crowd has dispersed. His cobalt blue eyes watch me approach, a smirk slithering across his lips.
“How’d I do?” he asks in a low tone now that it’s just the two of us. “Did I sound like a total asshole?”
I can’t help my snort. Or the fact that I love how he’s still familiar with me. “I already told you I don’t suck up.”
He chuckles, gripping the back of his neck. “That bad, huh?”
I shake my head. “You’re not fooling me, Doctor. Confidence isn’t something you’re lacking. You’re fully aware they were eating out of the palm of your hand.”
He wipes at the blooming smile on his lips and shifts until he’s facing me head-on. “But not you,” he surmises.
“I’m not so easily won over anymore.”
“I’m not either, Dr. Barrows.” Something crawls over his expression as he says that—something dark and haunting. He looks away and clears his throat. “We should get to work. I’m sure you have rounds.”
I do have rounds and I do need to get back to work, but for whatever reason, I pause, tempted to ask about the rumors I just heard, but know I can’t. I need to let whatever past we have stay there. Something about him is too tempting. Too familiar, even if it’s been seven years.
Still, I find myself asking, “You good?”
His head whips back to me, surprised by my question. He stares blankly for a moment before his features soften, and he shrugs. “Not exactly. But hopefully, I’m getting there. I’ll see you around, Dr. Barrows.”
I take his dismissal for what it is and throw him a wave as I start to walk away. “See you, Dr. Lawson.”
“Mrs. Jacobs,” I greet the anxious wife of my car accident patient. “I’m Dr. Barrows. I’m the surgeon who will be taking care of your husband today.” I explain how we’re getting a CT scan of his abdomen to know the extent of his injuries, but based on my initial exam and his current status, I’m having him prepped for surgery.
“You mentioned something about his spleen?” she murmurs, knotting her hands in her lap. I nod, and she gulps. “Do you think you’ll have to remove it?”
I place my hand on her shoulder without squeezing it—this is meant to be comforting, not reassuring. “I won’t know anything for sure until I get the CT results, and even then, I likely won’t know for sure until I’m in there. But if I do have to remove his spleen, you should know there are many people who go on to live normal lives without it. They’re nice to have, but not essential.”
She bobs her head as tears leak from her eyes, and it never gets easier to do this part of the job.
I ask her questions about her husband’s health and any medications he’s taking, and then I instruct her and her daughter where the surgical waiting room is located and that I’ll be back to update them as soon as I can.
But before I leave the room, I ask the question I ask of all family members and sometimes patients when I meet them. After she tells me what I want to know, I leave the room, ready to get into that OR and do what I do best.
