Abruption (20 page)

“S
uture.” My scrub nurse slapped the loaded needle driver against my hand. The feeling never got old. Standing in
my
OR with another patient, another life in my hands. It was an honor I would never take for granted, and the adrenaline rush—well, that was a perk of the job. I wondered if
he
had felt the same.

I flashed back to a summer day, one I remembered so vividly it could have been yesterday. I’d tossed my dirt bike up against the garage door when I heard her call my name. My mother was sitting in some contorted position on our den floor with photos littering the couch cushions and coffee table in front of her. I’d seen them all before, my mother never shied away from reminiscing about my father. There were stories to go with each picture. And I knew them all, every single one. Resting on her palm was my favorite black and white shot of him dressed in scrubs and holding up an old X-ray for a group of younger residents standing behind him. My father’s profile was barely visible, but the expressions of awe and respect on his students’ faces were unforgettable. In that moment, I wasn’t sure why or how, but my ten-year-old brain made a decision. Maybe it was because I’d had my first trip to the ER the day before (split chin—ten stitches) and thought it was totally rad, or maybe it was because the father-son sail races were next week and my uncle was going to be out of town, or maybe it was the way my mother gazed adoringly at my father’s face with tear-filled eyes … or maybe it was fate.

Confident in my revelation, I kneeled down on the floor next to her and shared, “You know, Mom, I’m going to be the kind of doctor that fixes aneurysms one day.”

“Oh you are, are you?” She wiped away her tears.

“Yep.”

“Do you know what those doctors are even called?”

“Aorta specialists?” All right, I had some research to do, but that wouldn’t deter me.

My mother chuckled and her smile brightened the room. “It’s a vascular surgeon. And I have no doubt you’re going to do amazing things in life. After all, you are Dr. Finnigan Hunter’s son.” She tucked me up against her side and kissed my head. “You want to know what your father was probably saying to these students?” She flapped the old photo in the air. “Same thing he’d be saying to you right now … something he believed in wholeheartedly. If you work hard in silence, your success will be the noise.” She ran a gentle finger over my bruised chin. “You’re going to be the loudest one someday, my sweet boy.”

There was no chance to wallow in the fact that I grew up without a father. Not that I would have. Or needed to. My mother was Superwoman on speed. Strong and feisty, she never gave me any inclinations of her single parent struggles. I could only pray my kids would have the same peace of mind. Because now I understood she lost so much more than the love of her life when that aneurysm ruptured. She’d been gypped. She was left alone to figure it out and
do it
all. Her words didn’t register right away, but Jules said it better than I ever could have.
As hard as it is, you’re doing it. Every single day.
Talk about history repeating itself. Minus the love of my life part. I’d never compare my mother’s loss to my own. Hell no.

But what I didn’t want was for my kids to think I’d been gypped. And as much as I was still that ten-year-old boy longing to be a vascular surgeon, I wanted
them
more. No regrets. I’d do all of it over if I had to.
Every single day.
Only difference was someone made me realize that maybe I didn’t want to
do it
alone anymore.

Bryce adjusted the suction and dabbed at the blood seeping from our newly revascularized colon anastomosis. It needed another stitch. Puncturing the fragile tissue one last time, I tied off the area that was oozing. I ran the entire bowel length one more time, meticulous not to miss anything, and tucked it back inside the abdomen. “Looks great. Good as new. Let’s close.”

My circulating nurse hung up the wall phone and said, “Dr. Hunter. The SICU just called down requesting a consult. Said it was pretty urgent, old patient of yours, I think.”

“Thanks, Cath. You good, Bryce?” I didn’t typically ask. Didn’t need to. He knew how I closed my abdomens. We’d done several thousand cases together over the years. But today he seemed to be in his own world. Quiet and edgy. Neither of which I would ever use to describe him. I’d ask him about it later. Hell, I was in a similar fog.

“Yeah, I’m good. Not my first trip to the rodeo, done this once or twice, Hunter,” he clipped. So much for the later plan.

Different place, different audience I would have said
what the fuck is up with you?
Back in the day I’d worked under quite a few surgeons who let their arrogance fly regardless. I vowed never to be
that
guy. Didn’t mean I wasn’t tempted. But right now was about my patient. When I stepped into my OR that’s all it was ever about. So I asked again, slowly and steel-faced so my point would not be lost on anyone. “You sure you’re good?”

Bryce read me loud and clear, looked me dead in the eye and said, “Yeah, I’m good. I’ve got this.”

If I had the slightest reservation, good friend or not, I would have thrown him out of my OR and closed myself. And he knew it. Content, I stepped away from the sterile field and ripped off my gown.

“You around later?” Bryce’s question and tone stopped my retreat. I turned around and he was staring at me from over his mask.

“Sure, why?”

“Grab a beer? Need to run something by you.” From years of shooting the shit during cases, I knew Friday night was date night in his house. It was their thing—escape the toddler for a few hours and get a reprieve from chicken nuggets and mac and cheese. They’d even asked to borrow Maya once or twice when they were in a bind. So his bailing on date night for a cold one with me confirmed something was up.

“Have to check in at home, should work though,” I told him.

Tonight would probably work. Maya was home with the kids and already volunteered to hang late as she’d done the past two nights. She’d been off for a family ski trip earlier in the week, and even though I reiterated it was a well-deserved break and we managed fine with Jules’ help, she felt guilty because I paid her full salary regardless. She was good like that.

And it was also the first weekend in a month that Jules wasn’t around. She had plans. Plans I wasn’t privy to. Plans she had casually dismissed without actually mentioning a single detail of said plans. Plans I wanted to get miraculously canceled. Fuck, I sounded whipped. Maybe shooting the shit over a few beers would help me find my sac.

Of course Jules had obligations before me, before us, I got that. It was the secrecy that I wasn’t digging. All right, secrecy was a reach—it’s not like I’d actually come right out and asked her what she had going on.
Why the fuck didn’t I do that?
That layer of rust was thicker than I thought. Instead I stewed over her vague
I’m really sorry, but I have to take care of a few things. But don’t worry, I promise I’ll be back in time for dinner on Sunday. I can’t wait to meet your mom.

Maybe that rubbed me the wrong way too. Jules was all about family, bordering unhealthy enmeshment if you asked me, so the fact that she knew my mother was flying in this weekend and she committed to other plans kind of pissed me off.
Selfish, I know.

The last three weeks had been incredible and that didn’t just mean the sex. Don’t get me wrong, the sex was fucking awesome, best I’d ever had, but the woman that came with it was
better
. My kids were even enraptured, looking like they stepped foot on a Disney cruise every time she walked through the door. Add her giant lump of fur and they became obsessed. I had no clue my kids liked dogs until I witnessed the fit of giggles Casey drew out of them. One eye and all—which by the way, Jules, as brilliant as she was, lived in denial and insisted was degenerative changes. Whatever let her sleep at night, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t on alert for a shriveled eyeball every time I was at her place.

But that was Jules. She never ceased to amaze me. I couldn’t have been more off base with my initial impression. She was not wrong when she’d called me a dick. Looking back, I’d projected my shit onto her and that wasn’t fair. She came from a place of yes like no one I’d ever met. So much so that when she wasn’t with the kids and me, which was often, she was busting her ass on getting her pet-therapy program off the ground.
“Animals see straight to your soul and feel your pain. When you push the world away, they’ll never leave your side.”
Because of her strong beliefs and enthusiasm, our hospital’s patients and staff were going to benefit. She was all about giving and I’d yet to hear her hint for anything in return. Another reason to tack on to my growing list of why … why she could be my
more
.

I was a jackass for not asking.

Now I was the one left pondering what she was or wasn’t doing. She promised she’d give me a heads up if
we
needed another
minute.
This felt like hers, not ours.

Bottom line, tonight worked fine.

“Screw it, I’ll bang out this consult and meet you across the street. Thirty minutes?” I asked.

Bryce shook his head and let out a terse laugh. “I’m good, man. Not that good.”

“First round’s on me then.” A few of the nurses picked up on my joke and giggled. Judging the size of the incision, time to transport and write orders, he was looking at well over an hour.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mocked. I’d bet good money he also mumbled “dick” into his mask. I know I would have.

“Make him pretty.” The nurses chuckled louder, while Bryce lifted his chin and pointed at the door, inviting me to get the hell out. That was more like it. Any doubts about his head in the game were gone. My cell vibrated. I pulled it from my scrub pocket and waved. “Got to take this.”

“Maya, everything okay?” I bumped the OR door and headed out into the hall. I hated that I’d resorted to always thinking the worst.

“No worries here. It’s getting late and I hadn’t heard from you. Everyone is fed and I’m getting them ready for bed. Finn’s sniffling a little, nothing crazy. Probably just a cold from all the kids on the playground, and it doesn’t help that it’s freezing.”

Maya would never come right out and say it, but she was surprised when she found out Jules had bundled the kids up to meet Selena and her nieces at the park last Sunday. Maya steered clear of public playgrounds, especially with Finn. She sought out alternative outdoor excursions to avoid the “germ infestation” and to be honest, up until a few months ago Finn’s gait was still unsteady, so I appreciated not having to worry about jungle gym accidents. When I got called in for an emergency last weekend, Jules read my kids’ disappointment and insisted they go anyway. I wasn’t sure who was more psyched. There was no way I could have said no or even wanted to. The two were most likely unrelated, but I hated that Finn was probably getting sick again.

“Listen, I was going to grab a quick drink with Bryce, but if you need me to come home I will.”

Maya quickly responded, “Nah, I steamed him up in the bath, smeared some Vicks on his chest, and have the humidifier on. He’s good. I’ll call if something changes. I was planning on staying the night anyway since you’re on call tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Maya. I don’t tell you enough, but I appreciate everything you do.”