Page 22 of Silver Fox's Intern Dilemma

17

SOPHIA

The steady beep of the heart monitor filled the OR, a soft background hum to the tension in the air. I adjusted my grip on the suction device, keeping the field clear as Jack worked. My hands were steady, more so than usual, and I wasn’t sure if it was from practice or something else.

Jack's voice cut through the room, calm and controlled. “Dr. Chen, keep the suction on the junction. This isn’t the time to lose focus.” His words were a chastisement, but even still, they weren't harsh. Not the way he spoke to Dr. Briggs. I knew the past few weeks of our sneaking around, stealing kisses, was the reason. He had a soft spot for me.

“I’m on it,” I said, a little too quickly, trying to sound as composed as he did. God, why was I so keyed-up today? I’d assisted him dozens of times by now, but today felt different. Maybe it was the surgery, because Dr. Briggs was in here with us. Or maybe it was the fact that we had spent the last two nights together, and I still hadn’t figured out how to act around him when we were surrounded by a sterile field and a heart monitor instead of… well, each other.

Focus, Sophie, focus. My mind scolded itself, and I blinked hard to push away the distracting thoughts.

The surgery wasn’t anything wildly complicated—at least, not for Jack. The patient had a rare thoracic vascular malformation that required precision, but we weren’t in crisis mode. Not yet, at least. Jack made it look easy, his hands moving with that effortless skill that still left me in awe sometimes. I knew I was in the right place learning from the right doctor, even if my dad didn't agree.

And then there was me, trying not to remember the way those hands had felt just two nights ago, tracing over my skin with the same kind of practiced care. My God, was he incredible. Not the time to think about that. Definitely not.

“Dr. Briggs, pass me the clamp,” Jack said, breaking into my thoughts. Dr. Briggs handed him the instrument, a little too quickly. His nerves were showing. He was far more practiced than me, but anything out of the routine appendectomy or gallbladder surgery had him shaken, the way I used to feel every time I walked into this place.

Jack glanced over at my co-intern but didn’t say anything. He was too focused on the delicate work in front of us. The clamp secured a small vessel that'd been threatening to cause trouble, and I felt a rush of relief. He was always steady under pressure. Me? I was getting better at it—mostly thanks to him.

Dr. Briggs, though, was still learning. He’d been watching me the whole time, probably noticing how different I was today. I could feel it myself—my movements more sure, my focus sharper, like I had something to prove, because I did. Or maybe it wasn’t about proving anything. Maybe it was just that being around Jack had started to feel like second nature. Too natural, actually. And too intimate.

“Dr. Chen," Jack said, his tone a little softer than before. I snapped my gaze up to him. “Keep an eye on the junction here. We can’t afford a bleed.”

“I’ve got it,” I replied, my voice steady, though my heart wasn’t. There it was again—his voice—that calm, confident tone that did something to me. God, I needed to get my head together. He wasn’t thinking about anything but the surgery. He never lost focus like I did. Not here, at least.

“Dr. Chen, you seem… different today,” Dr. Briggs said, almost too casually.

I froze for a second, feeling heat rise to my cheeks, even under the mask. Jack didn’t respond, his attention still fixed on the surgical field. I wasn’t about to respond either, but Dr. Briggs didn’t seem to get the memo.

“I mean, not in a bad way,” Dr. Briggs continued, oblivious. “You just seem… I don’t know, more confident.”

I could feel Jack's eyes flick to me for a split second before he went back to work, and my stomach did a strange little flip. I knew how he felt, how he'd already cautioned me that I was changing and blossoming into a confident doctor. I was supposed to, after all, but he warned me how our secret escapades could result in my making mistakes. The reason I had to try even harder to focus on what I was doing and couldn’t afford distractions like Dr. Briggs was bringing up right now.

“Well, when you work with the same person enough, you start to find your rhythm,” I told him, trying to keep my tone casual. I wasn’t going to let Dr. Briggs’ curiosity pull me into anything I didn’t want to reveal.

“Uh-huh,” Dr. Briggs said, clearly unconvinced.

Dr. Thornton cut in before I could respond. “Dr. Briggs, pay attention to the vitals, not the conversation.”

The way Jack's voice shifted told me he wasn’t in the mood for small talk, but there was something else in his tone. Maybe I was imagining it, but there was a tension there, something barely concealed. Or maybe I was just projecting. The harsh tone of his voice resembled my first day when he told me I wasn'there to play guessing games. And the wince on Dr. Briggs's face showed how much he disliked being chastised.

I went back to my task, focusing on the suction. I felt Jack's gaze on me again, brief but intense. We had worked together a lot in the last five weeks, but this was different. This wasn’t just about being good in the OR. He looked at me like his lover, another warning to conceal the intimacy we shared, and I had tried to do just that.

But now it was starting to show.

The heart monitor gave a sudden beep, sharp and jarring.

“Dr. Thornton,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. It felt jarring to use his title. His hands stilled, and I could see the subtle change in his posture.

“I see it,” Jack replied, his voice as calm as ever, but I could feel the shift in the room. “Dr. Chen, keep that suction in place. Dr. Briggs, check the pressure.”

Dr. Briggs fumbled with the monitor, his hands a little shaky. I could almost feel his panic rising, but Jack wasn’t rattled. Not even close.

“The pressure’s dropping,” Dr. Briggs said, his voice tight. “What do we do?”

“We don’t panic,” Jack replied smoothly, his hands moving faster now, working with a precision that took my breath away. “Dr. Chen, stay with me. We’ve got a vessel leak.”

I nodded, feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline as I adjusted the suction, keeping the area as clear as I could. We’d done this before—worked together through tough moments—and somehow, we always clicked.

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