The Girl Who Doesn't Quit (Soulless 12)

We were missing something.

I explored Reddit and other blog sites, searching for a plausible answer. Her first diagnosis was already rare. Perhaps the second one was just as rare too.

Atlas entered my office.

My eyes looked up, meeting his gaze for the first time in a week.

His dark eyes showed how angry he was.

This guy was always angry. “Having a bad day?”

He stormed to my desk and placed his palms on the surface, getting close to me to show his flared nostrils and maniacal eyes. “Why did you say that to Melinda?”

“Excuse me?”

He straightened, his muscular arms tight at his sides. “Her symptoms haven’t completely subsided, but she said she didn’t expect them to because you told her there was another diagnosis that we haven’t found.”

“Which is the truth—”

“The patient’s attitude about the treatment directly affects the results of that treatment. You already put failure in her head, so that’s exactly what happened. What the hell were you thinking?”

I rose to my feet. “She asked me if I thought the treatment would fail, and I couldn’t lie to her. I don’t lie to my patients. I don’t give them false hope.”

“You did lie—because that’s not true.”

“It is true.”

“Then what is the explanation?” he demanded. “You’ve been working on this for a week, right? What’s your answer?”

I stilled and felt his furious gaze pulse into mine. “I’m still working on it—”

“You’re full of shit, Daisy. Let it go.”

“No, I’m not going to let it go. I know I’m right.”

“The only reason you still have a job here is because I respect your father. So, thank him for that.” He turned around and stormed off.

I watched him go, so furious that I didn’t even know what to do with myself.

6

Atlas

My integration with the clinic took a couple days, but once my colleagues witnessed my passion and brilliance, they accepted me with open arms. It was a pleasant experience, everything I hoped the transition would be. I selected the patients admitted to the clinic, but I also got to do patient care—which I enjoyed.

But there was one thorn in my side.

Daisy fucking Hamilton.

I meant what I said. I would fire her if it weren’t for her father. He was the reason I got the job in the first place, and firing his daughter would be a terrible way to repay his kindness. Medicine wasn’t absolute, it was constantly a mystery, and I would never fault a doctor for being wrong about something.

But I faulted her for caring more about vanity than patient care.

Couldn’t stand that shit.

I was smarter than her. She knew it.

I was more resourceful than her. She knew that too.

I was more qualified for the position she wanted. And that infuriated her most of all.

The blood was drawn, and I processed the data myself because I didn’t like to hand off my work to a lab technician. It was my research, and unless I had my hands on it every step of the way, I would always question the results.

I’d just gotten everything uploaded into the spreadsheet when Dr. Hamilton walked inside.

“Tell her I can get to the hospital in a couple hours. Thank you.” He hung up and slid his phone back into his pocket.

“Everything alright?”

“One of my patients is in the ER. I’m going to swing by and take a look at her.”

“Reaction to the treatment?”

“Unlikely. I think the cancer has progressed.” He sat on the stool across from me while the printer fired off with the data I’d just prepared.

“Hope not.”

“It’s how it goes sometimes.” He walked to the printer and grabbed the papers before he took a seat again. “Got plans this weekend?” He read through the results.

“Just work.” It was all I ever did. I went out with friends sometimes, sometimes picked up a woman I met along the way, but most of my time was dedicated to work, falling asleep on the couch or at my desk and never making it to the bedroom. “What about you?”

He lifted his chin and looked at me across the table. “We’re having a celebration at my place on Sunday.”

“Is it your birthday?”

He stared for a while longer, his eyes shifting back and forth as he looked into mine. “Father’s Day.”

“Oh…that’s right.” I looked back at the results and made my note with the tip of my pen.

“I don’t mean to pry, but did your father pass away?”

I didn’t expect the question, and normally I would just deflect it, but he was my colleague and my boss…and it felt wrong to ignore him. “Yeah. He’s been gone for a while now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

I looked up to see the sincerity in his eyes, like he genuinely cared instead of just blurting out the phrase everyone else said. “Thanks.”

“I lost my father when I was in my early twenties. Took it really hard…and never really got over it.”