Page 19 of Toxic Temptation
He chuckles and leans back in his chair, studying me with those impossible green eyes. “Tell me about your family.”
The subject change gives me whiplash. “Why?”
“Because I’m curious.”
“About what, exactly?”
“About who you are when you’re not saving dying children or getting caught in the crossfire of my life.”
Hislife. Like today was just another Tuesday for him. Shoot, maybe it was.
“There’s not much to tell,” I say, taking a sip of wine that appeared while I wasn’t paying attention. “I have a mother and a brother. We’re… normal. Mostly. Usually.”
“Normal families don’t usually produce pediatric surgeons.”
“What makes you think that?”
“The kind of person who chooses to spend their life cutting into children? That takes a specific type of damage.”
I set my wine glass down harder than necessary. Some of it sloshes over the rim and trickles onto the table. The sight of that red liquid running down the cracks in the tile is a little too on the nose after today’s misadventures. I shudder and dab it up quickly with my napkin.
Looking back at Kovan, I say in a tight voice, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He holds up a reassuring hand, palm toward me. “Breathe, Doctor. I’m not insulting you. I’m saying it takes someone who understands pain to want to fix it in others.”
That casual observation lands too close to home, all things considered. I don’t like being seen by this man. I don’t like feeling transparent.
I’ve spent most of my life being as opaque as possible to as many people as possible. It’s better that way. Safer. Not happier, maybe, but certainly easier.
I look away, toward the couple at the table next to us sharing dessert and laughing like they don’t have a care in the world.
Like they’ve never watched someone they love slip away while they stood there, helpless.
Must be nice.
“My father was a surgeon,” I say quietly. “At St. Raphael’s, actually. He used to take me to work with him when I was little.”
“‘Used to’?”
“He died. Ten years ago. Liver failure.”
I expect the usual responses—I’m sorry for your loss; he must have been a good man; at least he’s not suffering anymore. But Kovan just watches me, waiting.
“I couldn’t save him,” I continue. “I had all this knowledge, all this training, and I couldn’t do anything. He was lying there, dying, and I was completely useless.”
The memory rears up like it always does—sudden and sharp and devastating.Dad’s hand in mine, his breathing getting shallower, the machines beeping their warnings while I stood there and watched the strongest man I’d ever known fade into nothing. Into a flat line on the monitor and a body bag with the zipper tugged up.
“So you became a pediatric surgeon.”
“So I became a pediatric surgeon,” I confirm. “Because if I can’t save the people I love, maybe I can save someone else’s.”
The food arrives, but I barely notice. “And that’s your damage,” he murmurs. His eyes roam over me, across me, and then away, like he knows I need that moment to gather myself together before I do something truly unhinged, like start to cry.
“What about you?” I ask, if only to hold the humiliating tears at bay. “What’s your damage?”
His fork pauses halfway to his mouth. “What makes you think I have any?”
“Please. You don’t become…” I gesture vaguely at him. “… whatever you are… without some serious trauma in your past.”
