In the exam room, the atmosphere was clinical and cold. Sarah moved efficiently, snapping on gloves.
She prepped his arm for an IV. Sterling watched her like a hawk. “You have steady hands,” he admitted grudgingly.
“It helps when people stop yelling at me,” she replied dryly. She swabbed the inside of his elbow. “Big breath.”
She slid the needle in.
Perfect stick. Flash of blood. Tape down.
Done in ten seconds. “Competent,” Sterling muttered. “For a civilian.”
Sarah hooked up the saline bag.
She turned to the computer terminal to log the vitals. “You hold a lot of anger, Colonel. It elevates your blood pressure.
Not good for healing.”
“It keeps me alive,” he countered. “It keeps my men alive. You wouldn’t understand.
You clock out at five p.m. and go home to… what? Cats?
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