Page 12 of The Refiner

Emotions were a liability I could no longer afford.

Except now, ever since I met with Piper, I can’t manage to keep them in check because she asked me a question. One, I still can’t answer.“How far are you willing to go to get what you want, Astor?”

An unexpected blow stings my cheek. “Answer me, brother. Should I be concerned?”

I lick the blood from my lip.

How far was I willing to go? Could I put my pride aside and admit defeat?

I think of the excuses Rebekah voiced while she packed her bags, never looking back when she set her wedding ring on the table and said goodbye. I couldn’t be who she needed me to be.

I could only be what I am: a brilliant surgeon who lived for his patients and not his wife.

I would never be the husband Rebekah wanted. I would never make her father proud or her siblings jealous. Ultimately, I was just a man who couldn’t give her the lifestyle she desired.

I’m jarred awake by Travis’s voice. “The first thing I’m gonna do when I get home is bend my wife over the kitchen table and spank her ass for sending me nudes these past six months.”

I open my eyes wide enough and see Travis, my roommate, glaring at the computer screen before slamming it shut. “My wife never sent me nudes until I agreed to come on this mission trip.” He blows out a breath and tries to get comfortable on the narrow bed next to mine. “When I was home, she always had a freaking headache and wasn’t in the mood. But now!” His voice rises. “But now she misses me all the time and can’t wait until I’m home to put a baby inside her.”

He throws himself back onto the pillows, staring at the piping running along the ceiling. “Like what the fuck is that? Why couldn’t she miss me when I was home seven days a week? Why send me nudes and hot emails when I’m thousands of miles away? I can’t do shit about her needs here. I can only attempt to avoid getting hard during surgery.”

Travis, like me, is a surgeon. We were paired together after both joining the Grace of Mercy Mission Ship, which travels to poverty-stricken countries, providing healthcare to the needy. Travis and I are two of the handful of surgeons aboard who specialize in children’s surgery.

“I’m gonna have to lie and tell her the reason my hands are blistered is from all the surgeries I’ve performed.”

I grin. “I’m sure she’ll believe that.”

“Here,” he tosses me the laptop, “check in with your family. They probably think you’ve fallen overboard.”

I run my fingers along the edge of the computer. Opening it breaks the blissful bubble of solitude I’ve acquired these past six months. I might have signed on for this mission trip to help children with malformations obtain the surgery they need for a better quality of life, but I also joined this trip because I knew I would be so busy—so consumed—that I wouldn’t have time to dwell on the past or the solution Piper proposed before I left.

I just wanted an escape.

An escape from my brothers.

From my practice.

From my thoughts.

I wanted to come back to a place that made sense. Medicine. Scientific, evidence-based practice made sense. Helping children made sense. I couldn’t help my ex-wife; I couldn’t even help myself. But I could help these children. I could make a difference in their lives.

“Come on, man. You’re not gonna call your family? What about tomorrow when we go home? You gotta ride?”

I’m sure my assistant Halle arranged a ride for me from the airport, but given I didn’t bring my phone and I haven’t even called to check in with her once during my stint on the Grace of Mercy, Halle likely arranged for an unpleasant ride home.

Just thinking about facing the wrath of my assistant brings on a headache. “Nah,” I tell Travis, sliding the computer away, “I’m good. My assistant will have a car waiting for me at the airport.”

“Your assistant. That’s your brother’s girl? He’s the burn surgeon, right?”

Travis and I have discussed a lot of things during our time together. He likes to overshare personal information, and I want to keep our conversations steered toward our professional lives. He knows I have two brothers, both plastic surgeons, with Vance being the burn surgeon and Duke being the cosmetic surgeon at Potter’s Plastics, the practice we share. “Yeah, Vance. My assistant, Halle, is the only one who can tolerate him longer than eight hours a day.”

“You’re not scared she’ll be working for your brother when you get back? Six months is a long time to be away. Things change.”

“Not Halle. She’s as loyal as they come.” My brother is a fortunate bastard—at least where Halle is concerned. Like me, Vance has his demons, but at least he’s had Halle as a buffer, so he doesn’t make everyone around him miserable.

“So, you don’t think you’ll get back to the office and be without an assistant?”

“Not at all.” On the other hand, Vance is likely to have run off his assistant. Duke too; he’s notorious for dating the staff at Potter’s Plastics. I could be walking into an office with a completely new team, apart from Halle, for all I know. I’m sure she’s the only thing holding the practice together.

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