Chapter 19: Pre-Op

Damian's POV

Perry did every session for five weeks.

I checked the log myself each Monday, and each Monday there were no gaps.

On the morning of the surgery I woke at four, before the alarm, with Jo's hand on my chest.

She was already awake. She had been awake, I think, for a while.

"Don't talk," she said. "Just let me."

I lay there and let her listen to my heart.

We drove to St. Brendan's in the dark, and for once I was the passenger.

She had asked me to let her drive, and I had said yes, and neither of us said why.

The pre-op bay was a curtained alcove on the third floor.

A nurse took my vitals and put a band on my wrist that said my own name.

Wendy came in at five-thirty in her green cap, with her mask pulled down around her neck.

"I'm your anesthesiologist," she said. "Don't make it weird."

"It's already weird."

"It's very weird. I've watched you eat gas station sushi at three in the morning."

She checked the line in my arm.

"I'm good at this. Ask anyone."

"I trust you."

"You'd better. I'm the only one in this building who knows how you take your coffee."

I laughed, and she smiled at me, though her expression turned guarded.

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