Page 5 of Vital Signs
I did. Too fast at first, then slower when he tipped it back down with two fingers against the rim. That touch — brief, precise — sent a shiver straight up my arm.
“There you go,” he whispered.
“Sorry,” I muttered, feeling the tell-tale sign of a flush creep up my neck.
“For what, Doctor Volkov?” And he was…smiling.
“For choking, for needing help.” I waved my hand in the air between us in an attempt at nonchalance. It didn’t help that my fingers still held on to the last bit of nerves. “It was a simple procedure. I just?—”
“Hey,” his fingers hooked underneath my chin, forcing me to meet his steady gaze. “Even I freeze sometimes.”
“No, you don’t.”
“No, I don’t.” And the laugh that left his mouth didwondersto ease my nerves. Like this was second nature to him… tous. “But I’ve been doing this for almost three decades, Volkov. You get sort of… desensitized.”
I straightened, finally, and for a second it was just us in that narrow space. The noise of the ER dulled, as if the world had politely stepped back. He looked down at me, expression unreadable but intent, as if he were still monitoring vitals only he could see.
“You stayed calm when it mattered,” he said. “That's not skill, Anya. That's instinct.” The praise landed deeper than it should have.I’m… not sure the last time an attending had praisedme. I opened my mouth to respond?—
“Dr. Vaughn.”
The voice cut through the moment like a scalpel.
A nurse stood a few feet away, chart in hand, eyes flicking between us with a professional neutrality that somehow made everything feel exposed. “Since you'refinallyhere, Trauma Two’s asking for you. And CT's backed up.”
He stepped back immediately. Space returned. Distance. The spell broke cleanly, like it had never existed at all. “I'll be right there,” he said, tone shifting seamlessly back into attending mode. Then, softer, just for me: “You're good. Take five before your next case.”
He didn't wait for an answer. He turned and was gone, swallowed by the noise and movement and urgency.
I stood there a moment longer, towel still clutched in my hands, pulse steadying but awareness humming under my skin.
The adrenaline was gone, but the imprint of him was not.
Chapter 3
Desmond
Ifelt it the moment I stepped out of the trauma bay.
The shift in the air. The look that lingered a second too long.
“Nice work in there,” Dr. Patel said, falling into step beside me as we walked toward CT. His tone was neutral, almost pleasant, which made everything so much worse. “With Anya.”
I kept my pace even, eyes forward. “DoctorVolkov handled it well.”
“She did,” Patel agreed. Then, lightly, as if he were commenting on the weather, “But she’s a second-year resident, you should expect more from her, and weshouldbe seeing more confidence from her by now.”
I stopped just short of the doors and turned to face him fully. Frank was shorter than I was, with messy brown hair and sharp blue eyes that could pierce through the strongest soul.
I made sure my expression was calm, unreadable. I'd been perfecting that look for years, after my first mistake taught me how fast reputations could curdle. “She was removing fragments adjacent to major vessels,” I said. “That's not a moment for silence.”
Patel lifted a shoulder. “No one's saying it was wrong. Just… noticeable.”
Noticeable. The tone of his voice scraped.
I thought of Anya at the sink, hands shaking despite her precision. The way she listened. The way she trusted me without hesitation. The way I'd felt the room narrow until it was just the two of us and a patient who needed her steady hands.
None of that showed on my face.
