Page 23 of Dr. Intern

“Bradley has a whole guest house in Houston. With the three kiddos, he suggested that we stay with them until we decided on where to officially retire.”

Of course he did. Brad is, and always will be, the golden child.

“That sounds like a great way to spend your retirement—taking care of his little monsters for free,” I snort, rubbing my eyes to try to wake myself from this nightmare. “Don’t worry about me though.”

“Young man,” she warns, her tone sharpening. “You knew this arrangement wasn’t forever. I’m sorry about the timing, but we’ll help you find a solution.”

I brush off her offer. “It’s fine. I’ll figure something out.”

“Are you sure? We have thousands of hotel points that you’re welcome to.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Chapter 9

Beau

Standing at the scrub sink, I feel like I’m in a complete daze. Not only am I physically and mentally exhausted, but now I have something on my plate that needs to be dealt with immediately, and no fucking time to do it.

I don’t blame my parents for taking the offer on their house, nor do I blame them for moving halfway across the country to live with my brother and his family. It’s just hard to be excited for them when I feel like my life is spiraling.

Walking backward into the OR, I glance up to see Parker already deep in conversation with his scrub nurse. Despite arriving a solid fifteen minutes early, he’s there ahead of me, meticulously checking every detail. The man takes the term control freak to a whole new level.

“Pretty sure the intern is supposed to be here before the attending,” he comments with a soft chuckle.

I hang my head and sigh as I step next to the sterile field. “If I hear one more thing today about how incompetent I am, I might just fake an injury to get a break from this hell hole.”

Parker steps forward, his body positioned across from me as he eyes me with concern. “You know they’re just busting your balls right? It happens to all of the interns, though I hear it’s worse in ortho than general surgery.”

I nod, taking a moment to compose myself. This self-pity bullshit I have going on in my head isn’t going to help anything. “So they say.”

“Trust me, my first year was horrible. It gets better.”

He proceeds with the first incision. The surgery isn’t particularly long or complex—a few hours at most—and doesn’t demand much from me other than basic assistance. But fatigue is a constant battle, and I struggle to stay alert.

Some residents physically harm themselves to stay awake, pinching their skin or kicking the base of the operating table. Others resort to drugs—uppers, downers, and beta blockers to keep regulated. My method is simpler—I chew gum. It forces me to move, and somewhat helps stabilize my blood sugar by stopping me from going low.

As the surgery progresses, I assist Parker where I can, even though this procedure isn’t directly relevant to my specialty. There’s always something to learn, regardless of the case, so I do my best to focus on his explanations, despite my mind trying to parse through all of the things I need to get done this week.

“Buffington,” I hear out of the corner of my mind as I debate where to move within the city.

I know Parker loved living in Midtown, and it definitely would be nice to roll out of bed and get to work in a few minutes. Buckhead could be cool, but it’s expensive as hell, and I doubt I could afford a place on my intern salary.

“Buffington,” Parker yells again, snapping me out of my daze.

“Sorry,” I respond.

“Is my surgery boring you?” he drawls, his tone clipped.

I can see how people at the hospital steer clear of Parker when he’s like this. Hell if I didn’t know the other side of him, I’d join them and run in the opposite direction.

“No, sorry,” I say as I shift my feet slightly. “Just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

“Your charm's only going to get you so far. People love you, and you’re smart as hell, but you’ve got to focus. If it were any other surgeon in here with you, you’d be out and your chief would get a report. So I suggest you get your shit together.”

I nod as Parker shifts his gaze back to the procedure. He’s almost done and just has to close the abdomen once the bowel sutures are tied.

“So what’s going on? I’ve never seen you like this,” he asks as his hands work in precise movements to tie tiny knots inside the patient.

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