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As soon as he’d made his incision the ultrasound was abandoned, and her job shifted to handing over the instruments as he asked, holding back tissue with forceps, controlling the flow of blood.
“How’s the baby’s heartbeat?” she asked the anesthesiologist yet again, probably ensuring that he’d never want to be on the same surgical team with her ever again, prompting him for readouts even if he’d only just given them.
The pattern they fell into was surprisingly easy. Ares’s hands, always elegant in their masculine way, moved with a certainty and grace his current appearance contradicted.
She’d gotten by on having faith in her coping mechanisms for so long, but she found that faith shaken before they scrubbed in. Chatter and keeping her mind occupied held the line between being shaken up and on the floor, but she couldn’t dismiss her doubts about how long she could keep it up.
However, unlike what she’d expected, he was professional. And extremely skilled.
And different.
But then so was she.
“I see it,” he said, and leaned over a bit, letting her visualize the swollen, enflamed organ.
“Goodness, it’s big. But it looks clean.”
“Doesn’t look like it’s ruptured either. I’ll extract—you examine it.”
She passed over instruments, one at a time, allowing him to clamp the organ off from the ascending colon, then repeat the maneuver from the colon side so he could make a clean extraction.
Once he had placed the faulty organ into the surgical tray, she maneuvered it around to look for any openings.
“Intact,” she announced after pressing and examining for longer than she would probably have done under normal circumstances. She needed an extra layer of assurance that her powers of observation and attention were still functioning at a high level, even with the chaos going on in her head.
Finally satisfied, she returned to his side to help flush the area with saline before closing up.
“We’ll have to check our antibiotic inventory. If there’s one you prefer but we don’t have in stock, we can have it by the evening. I’m starting her on whatever’s the best we have in the meanwhile. Eri... Dr. Nikolaides...”
Even with the face mask he wore, she saw his silent correction in the squint of his eyes. But she didn’t know what it meant. She didn’t know what any of this meant to him. He’d frozen, briefly, upon seeing her. And again when she’d reminded him what the health of her patients meant to her, but she still didn’t know what it meant to him.
He could just be reacting to the worry that she was going to lose it in front of everyone and he’d have to answer difficult questions. Or he might not care at all about her, or the events that had rewired her brain to expect betrayal from those she loved.
But she told herself she didn’t care about how affected or unaffected he was. She cared about Theo, Chris and Deakin. She had to figure out how to be around Ares without losing her senses, or all those years of keeping secrets from the rest would come undone, and that would mean she’d gone through all that alone for no reason.
Theo, the quintessential protective older brother? She didn’t even have to wonder how he’d react. And, no matter what Chris and Deakin might think, knowing what had happened between Ares and her would divide the four close friends, probably forever.
Even if the clinic didn’t rely on them all getting along and maintaining their long, loving, sibling-like relationship, she didn’t want to be the cause of their pain. Every single one of them had gone through enough pain in their lives without her adding to it now, when it could change nothing about the past.
And she’d lost enough. She didn’t deserve to lose Chris or Deakin, even if they were more forgiving than her super-protective brother would be.
“Dr. Nikolaides?” He said her name as if he’d said it before, and she finally realized what he’d said about the antibiotics. She hadn’t answered him.
“I’ll look as soon as we’re done,” she said, clicking back to the present. What was the next step? “Does anyone in the lab stay around the clock? I’d like labs drawn tonight and in the morning, to track her blood count. And I want the bacteria in the appendix cultured to check for resistance.”
“We can arrange it. If not, I’ll stay and do it. I’ve done them before.”
“Do you do every job with your charity outfit?” He’d clearly learned pretty adept surgical skills there.
“We all do whatever we have to, to keep things going. They’re even worse off for personnel than we are here.”
He tied off the last suture and she clipped it, then took over swabbing the incision site and applying a good dressing. That was the next step. The anesthesia was out, and she grabbed a stethoscope to listen to the baby’s heart and then the mother’s.
“And I’m good at what I set my mind to,” he added.
Hearts were steady—both of them. Jacinda’s rate was a little higher than she’d like, but that happened with infection.
“Do we have a recovery room? I’m guessing not...?” Erianthe asked, pulling the earbuds out.
He’d removed his mask and gloves but stood watching her in that same way he had in the patient’s room, looking too long, too intently. It made the back of her neck prickle, and she felt that tension return. What did it even mean? She had no way to know what he was thinking and never had—even when she’d thought she couldn’t know anyone better than she knew him.
“She’s coming up,” the anesthesiologist interrupted.
Erianthe removed her mask to stand over her patient’s head. “Jacinda? Open your eyes for me.”
When she complied, Erianthe delivered the good news and Ares backed her up.
“We’re going to take you back to a room and look after you there.”
His voice changed when he spoke to Jacinda, becoming imbued with a gentleness that made her own throat thicken. It reminded her of the way he’d held and comforted her after the pregnancy test that had changed everything. When she’d been terrified of the way Dimitri and Hera would react to it, wondering if they could run away to be safe.
“Where are you going?” he asked her now, the voice change denoting the shift from comforting his patient to addressing Erianthe.
“Nowhere...” she croaked, then cleared her throat.
“You’re backing up.”
He did seem farther away.
A shake of her head and she gestured to the door. “I’ll go with her to monitor vitals.”
“Was the baby’s heart rate still good?”
“Yes,” she confirmed, still wanting to talk about the patient as it kept her from thinking about the way he was looking at her. “Can we bring the ultrasound to her room?”
Ares pulled his surgical cap off and tossed it into the bin, tired all the way to his bones suddenly. Too tired for gentleness, or for this weird circling around one another that they were doing.
“You take her up and I’ll bring it in a moment,” he said.
She had always bristled when told what to do, but who knew if she still had something to prove? It was a long time ago, and they’d both had to grow up in that time.
All he knew was that he needed air at this precise second, so he might as well go home. If he stayed, as was his usual custom, he’d only be stuck in a room with her and nothing to do. Judging by her actions and words so far, there was no way she’d leave a pregnant mother and child in possible jeopardy.
Besides, his own island was very close to Mythelios proper, and his boat was fast. He’d rather stagger out of bed in the middle of the night and rush here without pants on than stay in a room with Erianthe for hours, when every time she looked at him her expression seemed stuck somewhere between someone just vomited on me and why is that spider carrying a machete?
“Who is going to show me where that is and help get her settled?”
The fact that even now, when they weren’t focused on their patient, she still didn’t want to look at him said enough about her state of mind on the matter. She probably still hated him—and Ares couldn’t blame her. There was no undoing what had happened. He’d keep paying for that mistake, just as she would. But he didn’t want that heartache to spread.
He’d known it would be hard to see her again. What he hadn’t expected was the tightness in his chest that just kept on increasing. Every look at her had him cataloging the changes over the last decade. The small line between her brows said she frowned a lot. There were no faint matching brackets at the corners of her mouth to evidence smiles and laughter.
He couldn’t change that. He still didn’t know what he was supposed to have done back then—what might have made it work out for all three of them. If he hadn’t come up with the answer in ten years, he wasn’t going to now. All he knew was that she’d borne the brunt of that mistake alone—without him, without anyone.
His suffering paled in comparison to hers.
He didn’t expect her to forgive him and wouldn’t ask her to. Couldn’t even picture what kind of heart could even offer him that kind of absolution.
“I’ll get Petra to organize everyone,” he said, then pulled off his gown to fish a pen and notepad out of his pocket.
A quick scribble of his number and he laid the sheet of paper on one of the machines, waiting for her to stop counting beats for the baby’s heart and remove the buds she’d replaced in her ears before he carried on speaking.
“If you need me to run the labs, or if she shows signs that there’s a leak or that we missed something, call me first. Don’t go through someone else—call me. I can be here in ten minutes.”
She lifted one hand but didn’t immediately reach for the paper. The way her fingers curled, then stretched too hard, was like watching someone warm up before arduous exercise. Like picking up this single sheet of paper was heavy lifting and she didn’t want to sprain her thumb.
In that second he regretted his decision to leave. The way she looked at him right now, would she call him for any reason?
“What time did you get up this morning? It was a travel day for you...” Ares said, ignoring the irritated sigh he got in answer.
She could sleep there. He didn’t care. But it would be stupid, and she would probably remain at the bedside of their patient all night long rather than count on the night nurse to wake her if something did go wrong.
He wouldn’t let any of his colleagues do that in her situation, he told himself; this wasn’t specifically about her.
“Erianthe.”
“Huh?”
The sound came out like a space filler—a tone loosed purely to give her time to think of what the right thing to say would be. A liar’s sound, a way to avoid conflict, a monotone prayer that the speaker would give up on the question.
“You traveled today. You must be tired. I’ll stay. You go home with Theo.”
“I’m not...” She started to say something but then looked past him toward the door. “I’m not going to stay with Theo. I need to tell him that.”
He knew enough to know that her staying with Theo was the plan. Even if Theo hadn’t already told him that, he knew neither of the Nikolaideses would want to stay with their parents. Hell, none of them would want to stay with their parents. He’d bunked down at Deakin’s upon first arriving on Mythelios, until he’d found out his own father currently lived in another country.
“Why aren’t you staying with Theo?”
“He and Cailey should have some privacy. Chris arrived a couple of days ago, so I’ll see if I can stay with him.”
“They can keep it down, I’m sure,” he muttered, his friend’s cozy domestic bliss suddenly irritating him. “Whatever. Chris’s, then. But Theo’s is closer, should I need to call you in.”
“I’m going to Chris’s.”
His teeth clenched hard enough to make his head ache. Obviously she had no idea that she was seconds away from being pushed out of the room.
“Fine—go to Chris’s. I’ll stay.”
He could only stay if she went. If anyone overheard them bickering, or—God forbid—saw the way she looked at him... Well, it was good that their patient was unconscious again.
“I’m being kind to you, Erianthe. We don’t need to both stay, and I’m staying.”
“I’m the obstetrician.”
“I’m the surgeon.”
“So?”
“If labor starts, I will call you. Do you want to stay here and spend more time with me, pretending every second in my presence isn’t like navigating a swarm of bees? I’m already tired of it. I don’t want you here.”
What he wanted was to forget about their past—and that couldn’t happen if he had to look at her and see pain on her face. He’d been in some truly terrible places during his service, so he knew what pain looked like in all forms. Physical pain he could deal with, but this sort of quiet, chronic emotional suffering ate at him. And on her it was worse. It made him want to drag her to the airport and shove her onto a plane himself...make her go where everything wasn’t so loaded. Somewhere he wasn’t.
She didn’t move.
He gave her a few seconds and then his control snapped, and he prowled forward to stand over her chair. Their patient was oblivious still, from the lingering effects of general anesthesia, and would not witness him about to yank Erianthe out of the seat and march her to the door.
“Swarm of bees?” she said finally, shaking her head, her cheeks growing pink as her gaze swiveled up to him. A second of eye contact was all it took. “That beard must have made you poetic, Ares.”
Then, jumping to her feet, she rounded on him and jabbed a finger into his chest, her cheeks blazing now.
“I’d have to be in a coma to miss how badly you want me gone—which is fine, as I’m not all that eager to spend time with you either. I’m leaving the clinic, but I’m done running from my home.”
As soon as the words flew out his hand twitched, and it was only at the last second that he shut down the urge to grab her before she got away. As much as he wanted her gone, he also wanted to sort things out with her. It was a ridiculous and undoubtedly destructive instinct.
He could do nothing about the heat rolling over his face. “I never asked you to do that.” He’d never asked her for anything—not even explanations. And he had no idea if he should...if she’d want him to. Directly acknowledging the past would probably make this tension between them that much worse.
She fumbled the paper with his number from her pocket, flipped it and scribbled a number on the other side, then handed it back to him. “No, you were just part of what made it uninhabitable for me.”
He snatched the paper, half tearing it with the rough handling. “You were the one who never wanted to see me again. It was your decision to stay gone—just as it was mine to stay gone too. Until now.”
“That’s right. I make my own decisions now.”
“Make them at Chris’s house,” he muttered, and stepped purposefully back from her. “And don’t come back here before tomorrow unless I call you.”
“Have you been listening at all? I told you I make my own decisions, Dr. Xenakis. You have reached your lifetime limit of making one for me. I’m leaving now because I’m tired, and looking at you makes me want to scream. How about you take some time to look for a drop of civility before tomorrow? The others aren’t stupid. The only reason they haven’t figured anything out is because they haven’t seen us together yet.”
With that, she turned on her heel and walked out.
That was the first thing she’d said that he couldn’t argue with. They really had to get it together. But not tonight.
He sat down and listened for the door to swing closed behind her. A week hadn’t been long enough to prepare to see her again. Maybe he should’ve tried to call her before she arrived, to see if they could find some neutral ground.
The shock of it was that he’d spent a decade picturing the same girl he’d known. She’d stopped aging in his mind—which was right in line with how old he felt when he thought of her. Still eighteen...still stupid. Still desperate for a solution that would work out.
Happiness hadn’t even been on his radar as something that could be possible long-term—he’d learned from his parents’ string of broken nuptials how infrequently marriage led to happiness. But safety? That might have been possible. Temporary happiness. Until he’d botched everything up with her and made her leave, with their child, before he could screw them up with his own ineptness when it came to family. That was right where Dimitri Nikolaides had struck too—in his weakest spot.
It hadn’t worked out between them a decade ago, and now that girl was gone forever. She’d been the queen of mascara and makeup, which had made her look older and harder. Using eyeliner he’d seen her melt with a cigarette lighter before applying it, just so she could get the absolute blackest smudge possible. The reddest lipstick. The shortest skirts. Whatever would annoy her parents the most.
Brazen. Fearless. Strong.
