The food in my stomach might as well have been acid, considering how sick I suddenly felt. I should come clean right this instant. Confess my sins and beg for forgiveness. Instead, I tore my paper napkin into little strips, unable to keep still.

Did it even matter that I was hiding this from her? Last night he’d told me that would be our last time. No, wait. He’d suggested it should probably be our last time . . . there was a big difference.

Something inside me knew, despite what he’d said, this was not the end.

Chapter Twenty

Cannon

My shift on Monday came earlier than expected. After Paige had sneaked into my room in the middle of the night, the rest of the weekend paled in comparison. She was so unexpected, so giving and responsive. Plus, she had her shit together, a great career, her own place, a level head. It was refreshing to be around a woman who took care of herself. Most of the girls my age were still trying to figure it out, still living off their mom and dad, or looking for a guy to fill that void. Paige wasn’t, and that was sexy as hell.

I rushed through the fluorescent-lit hallway on my way to the OR, ready for the busy day ahead of me. We had an open-heart surgery this morning. It would be the third bypass surgery I was assisting, and there was a serious vibe, an awareness of the significance of our task. Of course, the doctors and nurses were trained well and had spent years preparing for these moments, but that didn’t mean they took it any less seriously than it deserved. I was proud to be part of the team, excited to be training to do these life-saving surgeries on my own one day.

“So, how’s it going with you and Paige?” Peter asked, scrubbing himself thoroughly up to the elbow.

We’d been working different shifts, and I hadn’t seen him in days. Peter’s bright, easy smile instantly made me feel more at ease.

I stepped up to the stainless steel sink beside him and turned on the warm water. “Do I seriously need to explain this to you, dude?”

Peter motioned me with his hand, still damp with soap. “Please do. This ought to be amusing.”

“When a man and woman like each other, sometimes they like to take off their pants and rub their private parts together.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “You’re asking for trouble, man. She’s your sister’s BFF. I’m pretty sure there’s a rule against that.”

I finished scrubbing my hands and dried them with a paper towel. “Whatever. She’s hot. And cool. And when we’re in bed . . . it’s fucking magic.”

Peter pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing. “Do you really see a future with her?”

My chest tightened as a foreign feeling washed over me. “Of course not.”

He smiled at me knowingly. “Exactly. Then you need to stop fucking around with her. Let her move on and find her Mr. Right. You know even if they say they aren’t looking for something serious, they are always looking for something serious.”

Even if I didn’t like Peter’s words, I recognized that he had a point. Paige did sign up for that dating app after all, even went out on a date. The guy was a total douche, but still. Clearly, she was looking for more than I could give her. Maybe I was in the way of her happiness.

“Whatever, it’s over. It doesn’t matter anyway. We’re done. That was the last time.” I didn’t want to talk about Paige this morning; I wanted to focus on the surgery that was about to take place.

Peter gave me a sly look that said yeah, right.

Dr. Ramirez brushed past us with a breezy good morning. He was leading the surgery this morning, and I always appreciated his no-nonsense, down-to-business style.

“Come on, let’s get to work.” I followed the doctor into the OR, my hands up and arms out in front of me, just like I’d been trained.

• • •

Four hours later, my entire world was turned upside down.

Every time we stepped into the OR came with risk, of course. But I’d been so certain that David Hancock—Dave, as he told us to call him, Caucasian male, age fifty-five, married father of three, soon-to-be grandfather of one—would be going home. Of course he would. We were going to make him good as new. Better than new.

One moment, things were going according to plan. In the next, it was utter chaos.

I would never forget the deafening silence in the room after all the machines were turned off and the tubes removed. I wouldn’t forget the way Dr. Ramirez looked at me and said, “Get some lunch. It’s been a long day.” As if I could have stomached anything just then.

Instead I’d stumbled, wide-eyed and shocked, into the on-call room and called Paige. I’d intended to send her a text, but my hands were shaking so badly, I couldn’t type. She must have heard it in my voice, because when I asked her to come to the hospital, she agreed without question. Thankfully there was no else in the room that contained a set of bunk beds, and I collapsed into the lower one.

Sometimes patients died, and I knew that as a doctor, I would have to live with that fact. I’d been trained in medical school to dehumanize the person I was treating and look only at the condition. I also knew from my training that there was never much time to grieve; there were many more patients who were also unwell and needed a sound-minded physician at the helm.

But in this moment, none of that mattered. I didn’t care about my training, or the other patients who might need me. I could only think of the paralyzing stillness in that room, and if there was something different we could have done.