Page 63 of Love Sick

“Chen said he was impressed.”

Impressed for a DO, probably. I recently overheard some dickhead at the hospital joking that MD was the Coca-Cola and DO was the RC Cola of medicine. Off-brand doctors who couldn’t afford the good letters.

So I shrug away the compliment, even though it might ease the quiet voice inside chanting I’m somehow deficient. I’ve always been good with my hands. Even as a student, I picked up on surgical techniques and anatomy quickly. It’s never been hard, so it isn’t all that impressive to me.

If only I knew how to study without being distracted by four hundred other things…

“Don’t just shrug at me.” Grace bumps her shoulder into mine.

“What do you want me to say? Yay, Islayat cutting people open and sewing them back together.”

She scrunches her freckled nose. “That’s a large portion of our job.”

“Yeah, but I’m trash at the rest of it.”

She looks out over the water where a group of kids play water tag, their exertions sprinkling us with droplets. “I’m good at the rest of it.”

Sheisgood. She always knows the answer in didactics. She completes her notes on time. Her instincts are on point. She’d never question when to stop blood thinners.

Grace Rose has the kind of intelligence that drips from every word she says. She can organize in ways my easily distracted mind can’t even fathom.

So I nod. “I know.”

“But no one cares because they still think I don’t deserve to be here.”

“That’s not—”

“Yes, it is.”

I press my lips together, forcing myself not to offer platitudes that won’t help. Instead, I say, “Sometimes I wonder if they don’t think I deserve to be here, either.”

She pats my arm. “Because you’re a DO?”

I nod-shrug because I don’t want to say it out loud. Insecurities are a bitch.

“Well, at least you’ve got the surgery thing. I’m terrible at surgery. There’s too much art to it. So I was thinking…”

Bracing my elbows on my knees, I trace her profile as she gazes over the water. “What were you thinking?”

“Maybe we could work together.” She meets my eyes. “I could help you with the book stuff, and you could help me with the surgical stuff.”

Blank. My mind goes blank. She wantsmeto teach her surgery?

“Why wouldn’t you ask one of the attendings? Or the upper levels? I’m the same level as you.”

She looks away, hiding her expression entirely. “Dr. K told me to wait until my GYN month. The uppers aren’t really receptive. I could ask Asher, but he doesn’t have the best surgical reputation.” She shakes her head. “Never mind. I’ll just ask him.”

The idea of Asher in close proximity to her, intimate and alone, makes me want to vomit.

“I’m not an expert,” I say. “I have a knack for it. That’s all.”

She sighs. “If you don’t want to do it, just say so.”

Another awkward laugh escapes me. “I want to do it. You’re a genius. I’d be lucky to have your help. So…yeah, let’s glow up our flaws. I just—I don’t know if I’ll help you as much as you’ll help me.”

She hides her proud smile by turning away, but I don’t know why. Sheshouldbe proud of her hard work and intelligence.

“Trust me.” She grabs my hand and lifts it in the air. “With these, you can help me plenty.”

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