Page 14 of Her Desire (Pulse Medical #3)

Gianna couldn’t help but chuckle, despite herself. “I’ll think about it.” Before she could say more, Bette was already swallowed up by a small crowd of interns heading toward the cafeteria.

Gianna crossed the short distance to the double glass doors leading outside and stepped out, desperate for air that didn’t come with the staleness of hospital hallways. The L.A. sun was surprisingly kind today, washing over her like a warm hug, yet that tightness in her chest wasn’t going away.

Wandering a few steps forward, Gianna's eyes scanned the parking lot without real expectation, just a distraction, if anything.

But then, there it was. A sign of sorts. The universe throwing her a bone.

Holly’s car was parked near the edge and Gianna could see Holly’s silhouette in the driver’s seat. That blonde hair. Her blue scrubs.

A tingling feeling spread throughout Gianna’s body as if she’d been waiting for this exact moment the last two days.

A moment where she could actually see Holly face to face, where asking her what was going on seemed more of a possibility.

Gianna’s fingers twitched and before she could stop herself, she waved.

But Holly didn’t see it. Or if she did, she ignored it. Her car was already rolling out of the spot. But Gianna wasn’t going to give up. She pulled out her phone, tapped Holly’s number which she knew off by heart, and hit the call button.

The phone rang.

Once. Twice. Thrice.

It wasn’t until the fourth ring and the fact that Gianna had spotted Holly glancing down at her phone—or at least it had seemed that way—that her stomach churned with that sinking feeling she hated, the one that told her she was about to be ghosted.

The call switched to voicemail. Not that Gianna was going to leave a message. She wasn’t that desperate. Instead, she just stared at the screen, at Holly’s name, fighting the urge to throw the phone into the nearest bush. Instead, she let out the longest, most frustrated sigh.

“What’s got you by your heels?” a voice called from behind her. A voice Gianna knew belonged to Dr. James Caldwell. A voice she sure as hell didn’t want to hear at this moment in time. “Not that I’ve ever seen you in heels. You should though; you could pull it off.”

Gianna flinched and spun around, instinctively forcing her best version of a fake smile onto her face. Of course, it had to be him. James Caldwell, the human embodiment of that one person you never wanted to see, especially not when you were already in a mood.

“James,” Gianna grunted, folding her arms across her chest, hoping the defensive posture would be enough to block out whatever idiocy he was about to toss her way. “Heading home already?”

He glanced over his shoulder at his gentian blue metallic Porsche 911 Carrera.

Gianna only knew the exact color and model because James had once cornered her in the parking lot when she’d accidentally stared at it for a few seconds too long on her way into the hospital.

It wasn’t that she was admiring it, just the opposite actually—she’d wondered what kind of person had to drive something so ostentatiously shiny.

“Nah,” James said, shaking his head. “Actually, come down to do a lap around the parking lot. Stiff legs after a spinal fusion. You know how it goes.” He gave a mock wince as he stretched out his right leg.

“Right,” Gianna said, wondering if it would be awfully rude to just walk away without so much as a word. “Sounds exhausting.”

“I’ll live,” he said, smiling smugly. “But Holly, she didn’t look too great while we were wrapping up. A little pale. I figured she was just having a rough day, you know, it happens. Probably why she called it early and went home.”

Gianna swallowed down the lump that suddenly lodged itself in her throat and tried to keep her face neutral. “Really?” she asked. “Did she say what was wrong?”

He shrugged in a way that showed he either didn’t care, or he hadn’t actually paid any attention. “Probably just a bug or something. Or maybe it’s that time of the month, you know. Blood moon or whatever you women call it these days.”

Gianna shot him a look that should’ve turned him into a puddle if he had any self-awareness. “Right. That explains everything,” she muttered under her breath, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

Neither of them said a word after that, which made for an awkward silence. A silence Gianna could easily escape from now. “Got to get back in there,” she said, already backing up.

James gave her a lazy salute, clearly unbothered, and turned toward his Porsche, probably to admire his own reflection in the hood, though Gianna didn’t stick around to confirm. She was already making a beeline for the hospital doors.

Holly had gone home early.

She wasn’t just avoiding Gianna, she was actively removing herself from the hospital, from any place where she might have to see her. This was bad. So very bad.

But then again, maybe Gianna was reading too deeply into this, maybe Holly was actually sick, and her premature departure had absolutely nothing to do with Gianna. The thought should give her relief, but it didn’t.

A breeze rolled through the parking lot, but Gianna barely noticed it, barely noticed how her hair smacked her cheek. Her phone was already in her hand before she could stop herself, thumb hovering once again over Holly’s contact. Maybe she could just?—

“No. That’s a terrible idea. The worst,” Gianna muttered at the same time the hospital doors swooshed open.

Two visitors made their way across the threshold, both jerking their heads in her direction as if she had gone crazy.

Given how things were going and how she was spiraling about the possible loss of her friend due to a very bad, rather impulsive decision, that was probably not the most inaccurate assumption.

She forced a smile on her face, something that said , I’m a perfectly capable pediatric surgeon who isn’t going through an existential crisis and followed them through the doors.

If Holly wanted space, she could have it, Gianna decided. In fact, she could have as much space as she wanted. And when that time came that Holly wanted to talk, well, then, Gianna would be ready to listen. Or at least she hoped she would be. She couldn’t make any promises.