Page 88 of Dr. Intern

Unable to stop it, a wave of pleasure crashes through my body, shooting ripples of warmth to every part of my being. A dull roaring fills my ears as I feel myself spasm around him while his fingers continue to rub me through my orgasm.

“You already had all of me, Claire,” he whispers, placing a soft kiss on my lips as he begins moving inside me again to find his own release.

Chapter 35

Beau

“What am I even looking at here?” Walker’s voice interrupts my thoughts, snapping my attention back to the case in front of us. It’s only our third of the day, and based on how things are going, I won’t be getting any sleep tonight.

“Looks like that’s the talus,” I state.

His question was likely not aimed at me, but he’s been one moody son of a bitch lately, so I don’t chance it.

Blazing brown eyes snap up to mine. “No shit, Buffington.”

I glance at the scrub tech, who just shrugs his shoulders.

Walker continues, his tone harsh, “Why does it look like there’s a second fracture on the tibia? Someone show me the imaging.”

The OR nurse’s eyes widen as she pulls the blanket off her lap, quickly rolling the computer over to us. I can’t see shit from my vantage point, and I’m busy holding a retractor, so I’ll just have to take Walker’s word for whatever he sees on the scan.

If it really is a missed fracture, we’re going to be here even longer, and I’m already starting to feel a little shaky. In my unwillingness to leave the condo this morning, I didn’t grab anything to eat and have been surviving on only a protein shake and gum.

For the past two weeks, every night I haven’t had to spend at the hospital, I’ve spent inside Claire. I can’t get enough of her, and it’s been fucking miserable to pull myself away from her in the mornings to come to this hell hole.

I’ve been trying to look on the bright side—at least I get to spend the day with Walker. He may be a grumpy son of a bitch, especially lately, but we balance each other out well. Plus, I learn a ton from him, and have genuinely started to enjoy his company.

Walker steps back from the table, holding his hands up to remain sterile as he pivots to look at the computer.

“Zoom in there,” he tells the nurse as he lets out a dramatic scoff. “This image is shit. ER should’ve done a CT.”

While that’s probably true, we also should have checked before we started the case. This patient was handed over to us by the resident on call overnight, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t also at fault here. Medicine is just a constant game of checking, and rechecking, until you have enough information to move forward.

The thing that people fail to understand about surgery is that no decision is ever perfect or without risk. There might be a healthy person who goes down for a routine procedure and doesn’t wake up. But there also might be someone with every comorbidity out there who does great.

We can predict and counsel, but the truth is—we have no fucking clue what’s going to happen with each case.

I like to equate it to driving a car—you could get in an accident on a road you take every single day, or you could arrive at your destination safely on the most dangerous road possible. All you can do is react and rely on your instincts to get you there, because things happen in real life that are nobody’s fault other than fate.

Unfortunately, in medicine, someone is always at fault for an outcome, whether it’s expected or unexpected. And doctors love to blame other doctors, especially when it’s a different specialty.Which is exactly why Walker has been on the phone for the past minute cursing out the ER resident.

While he may be the most serious guy I know, Walker is also a strong leader. He’s always going to protect his own, regardless of if we’re in the wrong. He treats us like a team, and while he’ll berate us for the losses in private, he’s also going to make damn sure those losses never go on our record.

“Sorry.” I peer over the blue drape at the head of the patient.“Looks like the case is gonna last at least another hour longer than we thought.”

The anesthesiology resident peers up from her phone. She can’t be much older than me and looks bored as hell.

“No worries,” she says, removing the blankets she’s hidden beneath to stand from her chair and stretch. “The next case was with Dr. Baker, and I’m not exactly rushing over there. Plus, I’m off for Christmas after today. Four whole days of bliss.”

I gesture down at the crossword game on her phone. “I don’t know, you already look pretty damn blissful over there playing Wordle.”

We don’t know each other, so I try to crinkle my eyes to let her know that I’m smiling behind my mask, and not being a complete asshole. If anything, I’m jealous. Everyone knows anesthesia has the cushiest job in the hospital.

“Hard to appreciate my bliss when I’m bound to you jerk-offs for hours on end,” she retorts, winking at me.

“Hey now,” I reply, shaking my head. “I’m bound to them too.”

“Pure incompetence,” Walker mutters, stepping back to the table. “Get the X-ray up. We’ll reshoot.”

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