Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 76592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
My mind, however, is still racing, the adrenaline from my mad dash to class mixing with the lingering unease from last night.
And of course, underneath it all, Henry Simpson.
“Ms. Haynes?”
I jerk at my name from Blake’s lips. “Uh…yes?”
“Can you answer the question?”
Crap. What question? I’m getting off to a great start here.
“Sorry. Could you repeat it, please?”
Blake looks at me, clearly annoyed, but he repeats the question. “What’s the most common suture material used in surgery?”
I rack my brain for the answer, the information from my readings trying to surface through the fog of stress and exhaustion. Finally, it clicks.
“Polypropylene?” I reply, hating myself for adding the inflection of a question. This isn’t the time to be doubting myself.
“Correct,” he says, his tone lighter now. “Good job, Ms. Haynes.”
A sense of relief washes over me as I sink back in my chair. I’ve stumbled through the first hurdle. Now all I need to do is keep up with the rest of the seminar.
“Next question,” Blake says. “Can anyone explain to me the difference between absorbable and nonabsorbable sutures?”
Eli raises his hand, and Blake nods at him.
“Absorbable sutures are designed to break down over time in the body, and they’re usually used internally,” he replies. “Nonabsorbable ones are used externally or in areas where a long healing time is expected. They have to be manually removed.”
“Excellent,” Blake says. “Next question. Can someone list a few types of surgical knots?”
A girl in the third row raises her hand. Blake nods.
“There’s the square knot, the surgeon’s knot, the surgeon’s loop knot, and the instrument tie.”
Blake smiles. “Very good. Knowing your knots is extremely important in surgery. A badly tied knot can result in complications post-surgery, including hematoma, seroma, and wound dehiscence.”
Wound dehiscence? What the hell is that?
I’m sure not going to ask. I’ll look it up later. I scribble a note to remind myself, hoping that I’m spelling the second word correctly.
Blake continues with a few more questions, and then he takes us through the syllabus and structure of the seminar, which he outlined on the whiteboard.
Eventually, Blake wraps up the discussion. “Remember to review your notes from today’s class. Tomorrow we’ll be covering surgical instruments.”
“Will Dr. Landers be here tomorrow?” a student asks.
“He may,” Blake says. “But if he isn’t, rest assured that I’m more than capable of introducing you to surgical instruments.”
As the students stand, I gather my things as quickly as possible, eager to escape. If this were a normal day, I’d be racing to hug Eli and grab coffee, but—
A hand on my shoulder stops me. I jerk in response, still very on edge.
It’s Eli.
I sigh in relief.
“Hey, are you okay, Tabitha?” Eli asks. “You seem a little out of it today.”
I’m not anxious to recount last night’s events. Or the rest of the weekend, for that matter.
“I’m good.” I cock my head. “What are you doing here? I thought you had a job this summer. One that was so important you couldn’t make it to Angie and Jason’s wedding?”
He shrugs, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I did, but I had to come back after they offered me a spot in this seminar. I couldn’t pass it up.”
“I see,” I reply, feeling a stab of irritation. It isn’t like Eli to be flippant about commitments. On the other hand, the fact that we both got into this seminar at the last minute is a pretty big deal. I wouldn’t have been able to pass it up either.
“Well, I’m glad you could make it.”
He studies my face for a moment, a frown forming between his brows. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem…off.”
“I’m fine,” I insist, a little more sharply than I intend. “Just tired.”
Eli doesn’t look convinced, but he nods anyway. “All right. If you need to talk, though—”
“I’m good,” I cut him off. “Thanks.”
Angie told me last semester that she thought Eli had a thing for me. That she got a “vibe” from him.
I’ve never gotten that vibe. Eli is so driven to become a world-renowned surgeon that I doubt he plans to have any kind of relationship for the next ten years. Besides, he’s not my type. He’s thin with black hair and dark eyes. Put on some eyeliner and he’d pass for goth.
Nope. My type is blond and blue-eyed and named Henry Simpson.
But I can’t pine for him. Not now. And I can’t obsess over my near assault last night.
I don’t have the time.
Surgery.
That’s my focus for the next month.
And for the rest of my life.
Eight
Henry
My sleep is not long-lived, but it’s enough. The headache behind my eyebrows has dulled a little, and my throat doesn’t feel as raw. I’m still tired, but there’s less ache in my brain. Less pull to slip back into unconsciousness.
My mother is still sitting next to my bed. Did she go home last night? I have no idea.