Page 51 of Doctor Second Chance

I shrug. "Oh, you know. The usual. Removed a tumor the size of a golf ball yesterday. You?"

Buster launches into a story about a particularly difficult appendectomy, complete with colorful commentary on the patient's unusual anatomy. I nod along, only half-listening as my mind drifts.

"Oh," I interject when he pauses for breath. "I actually got some good news today. Ari woke up."

Buster's eyebrows shoot up. "No shit? That's great, man. How's she doing?"

"Still intubated but responding to stimuli. So, let me correct that. She isn't awake awake, but it's the first time they've gotten any response from her in over a week. It's a good sign."

"That's a relief. I know you've been worried sick about Opie."

I nod, feeling a weight lift off my chest as I talk about it. "Yeah, it's been tough. But hopefully, she'll make a full recovery." The words come out easier than I expected, and I find myself exhaling deeply as if I've been holding my breath for days.

"It's strange, you know? I've seen countless patients in similar situations. But it hits differently when it’s someone you know personally or connected to someone you love.”

"Yeah, man. I hear you. I was there when my father was going through open heart surgery. I saw a hundred of those procedures in med school, and somehow, when it was him, I couldn't even handle being in the waiting room."

I run a hand through my hair, a nervous habit I've never quite shaken. "I keep telling myself that as doctors, we see miracles every day. But I'm usually not counting on it. If she recovers fully, it will be a miracle."

"I'm happy for you, man.”

I take another swig of beer, letting it continue to loosen my tongue. "Hey, remember that woman you caught me looking at in the waiting room the other day?"

Buster's eyes light up with mischief. "The smokin' hot brunette? Yeah, what about her?"

I roll my eyes at his crass description but press on, feeling a mix of nostalgia and unease bubbling up inside me. "Well, that's Elle," I admit, my voice catching slightly on her name. "We, uh... we dated back in college. For quite a while, actually."

I take another swig of beer, hoping the alcohol will dull the ache of old memories threatening to resurface. "It was pretty serious, to be honest. But that was a lifetime ago."

"No way!" Buster leans in, suddenly interested. "So that's why you were gawking like a teenager. Spill, Duncan. Why didn't you speak to her? Why were you creeping?"

I hesitate. I am not used to sharing personal details, especially with Buster. But the words start tumbling out before I can stop them. "It's been a crazy week. She came in for a hand injury, and next thing I know, she's staying at my place because of the rehab facility flooding. Then she got septic, and I had to rush her to the ER..."

Buster whistles low. "Damn, that's intense. So, what's the deal now? You two rekindling the old flame?"

I run a hand through my hair, conflicted. "I don't know, man. I thought maybe... but then I saw this guy in her room, holding her hand."

"Dude. Really? Was she two-timing her man with you? Filthy. I love it."

"Shut the fuck up, you dirty whore. I'm trying to talk to you."

"My bad. I was just trying to lighten the mood. Who is the guy? Did you ask her?"

"No, but he's sitting down at the end of the bar. Don't get caught looking, but he has on the blue hat."

Buster's eyes flick to the end of the bar, and he nods discreetly. "You mean that dude, sitting by himself?"

I follow his gaze, my stomach dropping as I recognize the man from Elle's room. "Yeah, that's him."

Buster claps me on the shoulder. "Let me spell this out for you. You have no idea who that guy is. Could be a respiratory therapist, for all you know."

"A respiratory therapist holding her hand, gazing into her eyes."

"Maybe he wanted to feel her pulse? I don't know. My point is, don't jump to conclusions."

"That's actually a mature comment, Buster. You impress me."

"My immaturity is just a front to keep all the unserious babes at bay."

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