Page 45 of Off the Wall

“Roller skating?”Cash bends down to snatch his bloody T-shirt from the ground. “I hope Adam brings along a first aid kit.”

“Heh.” I snort.

Then my cheeks burst into flames.

Chapter Fourteen

Cash

As usual,the OR is freezing, and my scrubs do little to stop the cold. A faintly antiseptic scent hangs in the air. The patient is draped, facedown for the posterior approach. But I can’t stop thinking about him being a twelve-year-old kid. The grind and buzz of the drill doesn’t help. Neither does the beep of the cauterizing machine.

My stomach’s roped into knots, an internal vise that clamps down during every case.

You’re prepared, I tell myself.

Powell’s equipment is the best.

The kid’s gonna be all right.

Still, there’s always a chance the procedure won’t go smoothly. That the surgeon will want something I can’t produce. So far, though, Dr. Arnold has been all sharp focus and steady hands. He’s worked for hours with the precision of a watchmaker. Sandra’s scrubbed in beside him, anticipating his every move, their teamwork synchronized and efficient.

Meanwhile, I’m planted just outside the sterile field, using a laser pointer to direct the scrub tech, Jose Morales. Joseknows his stuff, but sometimes the doctor has to pivot. That’s when I step in to navigate a workaround.

Dr. Ellis is at the anesthesia workstation, the machine beeping softly. I glance at the monitors, where numbers and lines scroll across the screen. The blip of the heartbeat is rhythmic and steady. Dr. Ellis mutters something to himself about the patient’s vitals, then adjusts a dial like he’s tweaking a thermostat.

A softsnickpulls my eyes back to the table.

Dr. Arnold is placing a screw into the vertebra. It’s surreal—metal and bone merging like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. The smell of cauterization flares up again as he seals something off. Sandra suctions the incision, the slurping loud, like someone drinking the last bit of a milkshake through a straw.

“Everything looks good so far,” Dr. Arnold says. This is the first time he’s spoken in a while, and I realize I’ve been holding my breath. No one else reacts, but I notice a small nod of approval from Jose.

“I like this system,” he adds. “And your recommendations beforehand were spot-on, Cash.”

“Thanks, Dr. Arnold.”

And thank you, Sandra, for encouraging him to book me.

Once again, I’m struck by how unreal all this is—a room full of people working with such intense focus on something so fragile. In its own small way, the moment is almost beautiful. And selfishly, I’ve been too busy to think about Nori.

Much.

But once Sandra starts to close, my brain’s free to pick back up where I left off. I picture Nori in the courtyard, reacting to my touch when I peeled her socks from her foot. The small noise she made when I cleaned her palms. And earlier, when she was laughing on my bike, her hazel eyes shining, lips curved with pride. Soon the image morphs,though, turning into a vision of Nori smiling at some guy named—what was it?

Adam.

Yeah. That’s it.

Roller skating with Adam.

I hate the guy already, and they haven’t even gone out yet.

Later, when I finally get back to the building, the lights are out in Nori’s window. Still, I head to storage to get that bike lock for her. She’s going to need it in the morning, so I leave it in a bag hanging from her doorknob. I’m halfway down the hall when she calls out.

“Cash?”

I turn and she’s standing in the doorway in a pink robe and slippers. I move back toward her, hands stuffed in my pockets. Her hair’s in a pile on top of her head, and her face is scrubbed clean. “Did I wake you?” I ask.

“I was just reading in bed when I got the Ring notification. You could’ve knocked.”

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