The Girl Who Doesn't Quit (Soulless 12)

I shrugged in agreement.

“Maybe that’s why you don’t even want to try? Because you actually like Atlas, which means he can hurt you.”

I continued to take the chips and dip them into the guac, eating them with my head down. “I don’t know. It took a while for me to really get over what happened with Mason, and now that I’m finally free of that…I don’t want to put myself through the wringer again.”

“Understandable.”

“And I’ve got even more to lose with Atlas because of how connected he is. I actually like him as the director of my clinic. Don’t want to risk that.”

“Everything comes with risk, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, but I gotta make sure the reward is worth the risk.”

When I went back to work, I wasn’t quite ready to jump back in.

The weekend was too short.

I loved my job, but I didn’t get to spend time with my family like that as much as I wanted to. We got together for dinners on a weekly basis, but it wasn’t the same as our trips to the cabin.

I showed up early and got to work, seeing my patients for their appointments and monitoring data as I tried to fix these people. Work was always hectic, always two steps forward and one step back until I reached the finish line, but I could never imagine doing anything else.

If it wasn’t hard, I didn’t want it.

If it wasn’t complicated, I wasn’t interested.

Every challenge needed to be hard as fuck.

We had a staff meeting later that afternoon, toward the end of the day. Atlas was in his typical attire, laid-back in jeans and a t-shirt. He probably got used to the way my dad ran his company and carried that over to the clinic.

He didn’t give me any special treatment when I walked in.

Barely looked at me.

In jeans that were low on his hips, he stood at the head of the table, leaning against the wall behind him with his arms crossed over his chest. His jaw was covered with a shadow, and his eyes were a little irritated, a little intense, like he was displeased about something. His muscular arms crossed over his chest, and he looked at Anthony. “Don’t misunderstand what I’m about to say. We’ve done good work here over the last few months, but not good enough. I was just notified that one of our patients has been incorrectly diagnosed. Treatment put them in the hospital because of an allergy—which was detailed in the chart.” His gaze remained on Anthony, like he was the culprit of the error.

Oh shit.

Anthony was still, all eyes on him.

Atlas remained cold. “Explain this.”

For the first time ever, Anthony was flustered. “I’m not even sure which patient you’re referring to—”

“Abigail Ramirez. Discharged from our clinic last week. Missed the holiday because she was in the hospital. Thankfully, she’ll make a full recovery.” He grabbed the folder from behind him and tossed it on the table in front of Anthony. “Says right there that she’s allergic to sulfa. Severely allergic.”

“I didn’t prescribe the treatment plan—”

“But you diagnosed her—incorrectly. None of this would have happened if you’d done your job.”

Jesus.

Anthony grew distressed, ripped apart right in front of us. “We can discuss this in private—”

“No.” Atlas remained unforgiving. “We’re a team. Your failure is our failure. Thankfully, Ms. Ramirez is being discharged today, but the clinic will be responsible for covering her medical expenses because it was our fault she ended up there. We follow patients from beginning to end. You failed to stay informed about her treatment—”

“It was a holiday weekend—”

“Irrelevant. You take on a patient, that patient is yours night and day, holidays and all. If you wanted to be excused from her care, you could have handed her to another physician for observation, but you failed to do that.”

Now Anthony shut his mouth, his eyes down.

Atlas pulled his stare from Anthony and looked at the rest of us. “We can’t make mistakes. Ever.” He looked at Shelly next. “What’s the status of your patients, Dr. Pierce?”

A knock sounded against the frame of my open door.

I finished the sentence I was reading before I lifted my chin and looked up.

Atlas approached my desk with a folder in his hand. His eyes were still intense even though our staff meeting had ended hours ago. He placed it on the edge of my desk. “I spent some time thinking about your patients. Brainstormed a few ideas.” He slid his hands into his pockets and stared at me.

I pulled the folder closer. “Thanks. I’ll look at these tomorrow.”

He remained, his dark eyes on me expectantly.

“You know, Anthony is a really good doctor.”

“I know he is. Another reason I’m disappointed.”

“You were pretty harsh on him, and I just—”

“I was doing my job, Daisy. I’m not here to make friends. I’m not here to boost egos. I’m here for the patients—and no one else.”