The Girl Who Doesn't Quit (Soulless 12)

“And yet you haven’t given it…”

I pivoted toward her, giving her my full attention. “I’m sorry.”

The hostility waned in her eyes—but only slightly. “I give all of myself to my patients, and I will always do what’s in their best interest. I wanted to work here because there’s no bureaucratic bullshit. You don’t need to discharge a patient within a certain time frame. You can take all the time you need to find the solution. Not a solution. The solution. Your words were very insulting. It wasn’t an attack on my professionalism but on my entire character. My father says being a doctor isn’t what you do, it’s who you are. And I’m a doctor—down to my bones.”

I stared at my knuckles as they shifted and moved.

“You’re right. You have the resources and the brilliance that allow you to draw conclusions quicker than I can. But I also have a holistic approach to my patients, understanding the full body, not cherry-picking what I want to deal with. I’m open to collaboration, but it was never a collaboration with you. It was orders—and I was supposed to obey.”

“Let’s not forget that you didn’t accept my position with open arms. Dylan said you told him off in his office, and when he left, he didn’t even say goodbye to you. You were livid with his decision. Can’t blame me for assuming this interaction would be difficult. At best.”

“Did he say why I was livid with his decision?”

I turned to look at her.

“Because he passed me over—because I was too young. I look at you, and you can only be a few years older than me. Didn’t seem to be a problem. Age had nothing to do with it. It’s the WAP between my legs.”

My eyes widened at her choice of words.

She looked forward again. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter anymore. But he could have picked someone else in the office, and it was disloyal that he didn’t. Yes, I was annoyed that you’d been hired, but by the time you walked in the door, I was over it. The fire was gone, but you relit it.”

“Looks like this was never going to work out, no matter what happened.”

“Maybe.”

I faced her bulletin board again and considered how to circumvent this. “All of your colleagues speak very highly of you even when you aren’t in the room. Your father says the same thing. I’d like to give this another try—if you’re willing.” I turned back to her.

She met my look, her legs crossed, her hair pulled over one shoulder. “My father has nothing but good things to say about you. I don’t really understand it, but I trust his judgment.”

“I have my flaws. I’m impatient, not because I want to have a quick turnover of patients, but because I want solutions to their problems as readily as possible. I’m intense because I have tunnel vision about my work sometimes. I get so involved in what I’m doing that I can’t see the big picture—just as you describe. But my heart is in the right place—even if that isn’t always clear all the time. I apologize for the way I handled things with us and that I said things I shouldn’t have. And for what it’s worth, I do think you’re as brilliant as people say. It’s the first time someone has proved me wrong about something.”

“Well, I didn’t prove you wrong. Your first diagnosis was right, and without your resources, it may have taken me another six months to figure it out.”

This was the side of her I’d heard rumors about but never witnessed firsthand. She was logical and reasonable, understanding.

“Your heart is in the right place. You’re eager for them to find relief, which isn’t a bad thing. I admit I let my anger get the best of me and I lashed out in outlandish ways, and I already disliked you before you had the chance to prove yourself. My dad told me that I’m a bit threatened by you, and I think he may be right.”

“You have no reason to be threatened by me, Dr. Hamilton.”

“Everyone keeps saying you’re the smartest person they’ve ever met, so…”

I stared at my hands, unsure what to say to that.

She let the silence continue and looked at the bulletin board once again.

This conversation had gone far better than I’d hoped, and I wanted it to stay that way. “Can we start over?”

“Yes. I’d like that.” She turned to me and extended her right hand. “Call me Daisy.”

I took her hand in mine and shook it.

“When people call me Dr. Hamilton, I sound like my dad and brothers.”

“Atlas. Or you can call me map boy if you prefer.”

Her mouth lit up with a beautiful smile, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.” I smiled back and pulled my hand away. “It’s a weird name, I know.”