The Doctor’s Truth: Part 4: Chapter 56

The OR is my kingdom.

And, today, Donovan is in it instead of watching from behind glass.

I have to make the switch in my brain. I have to treat this like any other transplant. If I let my mind rest on the fact that I’ll be slicing open my lover first and my son second, I won’t be able to focus.

I go through my checklist. My blades are ready. My team is prepped.

I am Jason King. Top surgeon at Hannsett Medical Center. This surgery will go off without a hitch.

Except Donovan, I notice, is trembling.

“Are you cold?” I ask.

“No.”

“You can back out of this anytime, you know,” I tell him. “Even now. Just say the word and we’ll stop. No one will blame you.”

Donovan’s gaze meets me. “I know. I can be ready and nervous, right?”

“Right.”

His eyes flicker away from me and land on my table of sterilized tools—a handful of different-sized blades. “It’s not the procedure,” he says. “Going under the knife, it just…brings up weird things for me.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly.” He seems to think, then says, “Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Just don’t cut me open to the fucking Beastie Boys.”

Even here, lying flat on the operating table in a hospital gown with the spotlights on him, he still has the energy to rib me.

“I’ll do you one better.” I nod to my tech—my hands are sterilized—and tell her: “Press play.”

She turns on my music. Otis Redding fills the room.

“Kenzi made the playlist,” I explain. “Based it on your records at home. She titled it, Don’t fuck it up.”

Donovan laughs at that, a genuine chuckle. “Love it.”

The anesthesiologist nods to me. “We’re ready when you are, Dr. King.”

I stand next to Donovan. “You want to hold my hand?”

He’s quiet for a second, and then pride gives way to need. “Okay.”

I lace my fingers with his. I hold his hand as the anesthesiologist fits the mask over Donovan’s mouth and nose. He inhales, and his eyelids fight it briefly before slipping closed.

I wait until he’s completely lost consciousness before I unwind my fingers from his and gently set his hand back down on the bed.

“Alright,” I say, calm and in control. “Let’s get to work.”