Page 33 of Doc Showmance
I met the confused gaze of the surgical tech. “Dr. Todd and myself weren’t besties in vet school. We’re having some flashbacks to some tense times.” My eye twitched harder. The rabbit’s heart rate was holding, but it was low. I snapped. “What the fuck’s going on with the rabbit?”
“You said you didn’t know anything about rabbit medicine. So you might not understand.” And there’s the egotistical know-it-all tone I remembered, and despised.
“Stop being an asshole.”
“I’m sorry you’re misinterpreting me doing my job while you don’t seem to be doing yours. I’m going to keep this rabbit asleep and alive as best I can.”
“That’s real reassuring. Don’t get me wrong. You were a smart cookie in school, but you’ve been gallivanting around the world instead of practicing medicine. So I’m not sure how rusty you are on this kind of stuff.”
“Amber…”
“I trust you…enough.”
His gray eyes met mine above his facemask, eyebrows raised in skepticism. “You’re the worst liar. You said you’d do this for the rabbit. So do it.”
“No, you’re the one who’s a shitty liar.”
He blinked. “What do you need from me, Amber? Does it help you to know I’m concerned? That I’m working to keep his heart rate up? That he’s not breathing on his own and his body temperature is too low?”
I blew out a breath and revved the drill for effect. No. It didn’t help at all. Now I felt more stressed. And I hated him for pointing out the obvious.
He said, “Just finish your part. Fast would be great.”
“How fast?”
“If we could press the warp speed button, that’d be super.”
“Let me know if you’re losing him.”
He muttered, “Won’t help you to know it.”
“What did you just say?”
“Jesus, Amber.” He scratched the cloth cap over his hair. “Can you please finish the surgery?”
“I’ll do this as quick as I can.” I tried to read his face, but he wouldn’t meet my gaze. Wrinkles creased his forehead, which was something I wasn’t used to seeing on him.
Fifteen minutes later, I pushed away from the patient, hands shaking and filled with a euphoric relief. “Ian, I—”
“Dr. Hardin, Noodles is crashing,” Susan interrupted me as she rushed into the surgery room.
And the day kept throwing punches. I’d had a gut feeling this was coming. My eyes burned but I wouldn’t cry, not here in front of Ian. Damn it. I’d tried so hard to save the old schnauzer. “Did you phone Mrs. Anderson?”
“She’s on her way.”
“Is he actively dying or simply going down?”
Susan cringed. “I need you to check him.”
My eyes met Ian’s for a moment.
“I got this,” he said.
The words to thank him for not letting the rabbit die strangled in my throat. I was being a bitch and needed to be grateful, but the sense of empty failure at losing Noodles consumed everything in my head. Susan was twitchy to get me in motion. Lamely, I said, “I gotta go.”
13
Ian
