Page 95 of Halo

My post-op patient serenades the nurses—and everyone else within earshot—with an enthusiastic, thoroughly off-key rendition of “Sweet Caroline” as I wheel him through the PACU doors.

“Mr. Dawson?” I clip the pulse oximeter onto his finger as he launches into the chorus again.

“Bum! Bum! Bum!”

“Mr. Dawson!”

He freezes. Rolling his head up to face me, he squints before breaking into a lazy grin. “Well, hello. You’re ... really pretty.”

“Thanks. Take some nice deep breaths for me, sir—”

“Ooooh call me sir again, Doctor.”

I exchange a look with his nurse. She bites her cheek, fighting back her laughter.

“Mr. Dawson, I'm going to—”

He catches my hand. "Your arms are so strong …” He rubs his thumb across my palm. “So soft … Are you married?”

Before I can answer, another nurse escorts a woman to the bedside.

“Hey, muffin,” she says warmly.

My patient looks between the two of us. He releases my hand as though he'd never touched it, and clears his throat. “Hi, honey.”

Talk about disoriented …

“I'll leave you two to it. Welcome back, Mr. Dawson.” I turn to the nurses. “Call if you need anything.”

Leaving PACU, I push through the double doors into the OR core. At the charge desk, the charge nurse, one of the surgeons, and two anesthesiologists stand beneath the electronic board, reshuffling room assignments.

“Y'all good?” I ask.

One of the anesthesiologists glances up from the board and nods. “We're good. Everything's covered now. Thanks for jumping in, Crawford.”

"No problem." I check my watch as I walk away.

Shit. It's been over two hours since I dropped Leah back off at her apartment. I can still picture her standing there, her hair pouring over her shoulders, those ridiculous red lips making it nearly impossible to remember my own name. She smiled through the disappointment, insisted we could reschedule, and never once made me feel guilty for turning the truck around.

She deserved better than that.

I pull my phone from my pocket, already thinking about how many apologies it would take to earn another chance at a first date. As I pass the waiting room, something catches the corner of my eye.

Dark waves.

A gray sweater dress.

Black boots propped on the empty chair beside her.

Leah looks up from her phone, a grin spreading across her face. “Hey, there, cowboy. You hungry?” She lifts a large white Whataburger sack with food bags inside with a drink carrier. “It's not piping hot anymore, but it's still tasty. Plus anything tastes better with their spicy ketchup.”

“Leah …” I work my jaw, but I am completely dumbfounded. The thoughtfulness of this woman ... I shake my head with a grin. “I hope that's a Dr. Pepper in there.”

“Pssh, I'm not a heathen,” she jokes. “Of course it is.” She stands up, looking up and down the corridor. “Do you want to go to the cafeteria or is there like a lounge?”

"I've got a better idea. C’mon"

She slips her phone into her purse as we head toward the staff elevators. Halfway down the hall, her pace slows, trying to conceal a limp.