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“I’m not here to offer comfort. I’m here to save lives,” Giselle said sharply.
Addie raised an eyebrow. “Well, you might want to work on your people skills.”
Giselle’s face twisted. “Thanks for the advice.”
Before Addie could respond, Giselle turned on her heel and walked away, leaving no room for further conversation.
4
ADDIE
Who does that?
Addie hated how rude Giselle had been. She had just finished a complex surgery and saved a little girl’s life, and then Addie had seen how uncomfortable Giselle was with the girl’s mom and had stepped in to save her and all Giselle could manage was a blunt “Thanks for the advice,” before walking off like it was as inconsequential as a lunch break, without any acknowledgment of relief.
Addie stood by the young girl’s bed in the ICU, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest as she breathed under sedation.
The lights were dimmer here, but thetension from the OR still lingered in Addie’s body.
Giselle had been impressive in surgery; there was no denying that. But something about the way she’d handled everything—so detached, so clinical—unsettled Addie.
It wasn’t just skill that made a good surgeon. It was the compassion and ability to connect with a patient and share in their family’s concern. There’d been no tenderness, no moment where Giselle had stepped back and breathed easier after the girl’s heart started beating steadily again. For her, it was like a checklist—procedure done, move on. But this was someone’s child, not a statistic or a routine.
“How’s she doing?” one of the nurses asked.
“She’s stable,” Addie said. “No sign of any complications yet.”
The nurse nodded as she scanned the monitors. “She’s lucky you got in there when you did.”
“It wasn’t me,” Addie said. “Dr. Carlisle took the lead.”
The nurse gave a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, I heard about her. Brilliant, but not exactly warm, is she?”
Addie didn’t respond to that, though she couldn’t help but agree. She looked at the girl, her small frame swallowed by the sheets. The thought of someone treating her daughter, Sophie, with Giselle’s coldness made her stomach turn.
If Sophie were the one lying here...Addie shuddered, pushing the thought away. She couldn’t let her mind go there. She had to stay focused and present. Sophie was healthy, and that was what mattered.
She leaned in closer to the girl, running a brief physical examination. “Vitals are good,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.
The nurse hovered nearby. “Her parents are in the waiting room. They’ve been asking for updates every ten minutes.”
Addie glanced at the door. “I’ll go talk to them soon.”
The nurse offered her a sympathetic look before leaving the room.
How could Giselle not care about this? She seemed to thrive in keeping distancebetween herself and her patients…and everyone else, for that matter.
Addie sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. Maybe that was how some people worked. Still, it didn’t sit right with her. Phoenix Ridge was a place where they cared about their patients, and where every life mattered beyond surgery.
Maybe Giselle was brilliant. But what did brilliance mean if you couldn’t even acknowledge the life you’d saved?
She watched the girl fight for dear life. Her mother’s words from earlier echoed in her head:she’s my only child.
The door creaked open and a nurse poked her head in. “Dr. Wolfe, do you want me to get the parents now?”
Addie nodded.
After she updated the parents and gave them some information about the next steps once their daughter woke up, she decided to give them some time alone. She gave the girl one last look before turning toward the door. She needed air, needed to step away from the heaviness that had settled in the room.