Page 7 of Her Desire (Pulse Medical #3)
HOLLY
H olly was half tempted to bang her head against the steering wheel of her car. She’d really thought tonight’s date would be different. Perhaps even one of those rare moments where everything just clicked.
But no. Brian, the orthotist who loved working with amputees, had been just about as exciting as a cardboard box.
Holly glanced in the rearview mirror and then at the empty passenger seat.
There was a take-home box sitting on it with leftover pasta that she’d probably finish off once she got home.
Frankly, Holly had thought she’d be driving home with Brian, maybe laughing about something silly, embracing the fluttery feeling in her stomach at the prospect of sex.
It didn’t even have to be great mind-blowing sex.
All she needed was something to curb that craving.
To ease that itch, so to speak. Instead, she was driving home solo.
The date had started innocently enough. Dinner at Cassandra’s, a new Italian restaurant with views of the sparkly Pacific Ocean.
Brian had ordered a lovely bottle of red wine Holly couldn’t pronounce, as well as the starters, a caprese salad and bruschetta.
But as the night continued, it had become increasingly clear… Brian wasn’t over his ex.
Not. At. All.
He hadn’t just mentioned her once. No. Brian had gone on and on, practically narrating the saga of his doomed relationship with his ex—another orthotist named Sofia, who apparently was named after the famous Sophia Loren.
“Yeah, we used to joke that we were basically the dynamic duo of orthotics,” Brian had said at one point, laughing. “She was the Batman to my Robin.”
Holly had nearly choked on her water because apparently, Robin had zero clue how to let go of the past. Maybe she should’ve gotten those tips from Dr. James Caldwell. Maybe he would’ve warned her that Brian was still completely hung up on his ex.
But then again, she probably wouldn’t have listened to him.
Holly let out a long sigh and turned up the volume.
Her favorite song was playing. “Mace Spray” by the Jezabels.
But even the Jezabels couldn’t make her feel better, not when she kept replaying the night.
How Brian had mentioned that he had matured since the breakup and that he was finally ready for a real relationship.
And that was when Holly had really started to die on the inside. She’d smiled awkwardly and nodded, trying to be polite. She’d even tried to steer the conversation somewhere else—her work, the beach, the frickin’ weather.
But he’d somehow manage to steer it right back to the breakup. The end of the night couldn’t have come any sooner and when it did, Holly had been completely horrified when Brian tried to kiss her. After all that, the guy couldn’t take a hint.
Holly sighed as she flicked on her indicator and slowed down at the STOP sign.
Music wasn’t helping. She needed to hear Gianna’s voice—needed to hear the voice of the one person who wouldn’t judge her for wanting to down a whole bottle of red wine and indulge in a hot bubble bath while she watched Bridget Jones' Diary on her iPad.
Without a second thought, she tapped Gianna’s name in her contact list and hit call. The phone rang. And continued to ring.
“Come on, G. Answer your damn phone,” she muttered under her breath. But when it didn’t ring after another few seconds, Holly swiped at the car’s touchscreen interface and ended the call.
She gave it another minute before she tried again. It wasn’t like Gianna not to answer. On the contrary, if Holly was ever in a competition where the person had to answer the call in order for her to win, she’d call Gianna every single time.
The phone rang again, once, twice…and then no answer.
“Fine,” Holly grumbled. “I won’t tell you about my disastrous date.”
But, of course, she was still going to.
When she pulled up in her driveway, Holly got out her phone and sent a quick text to Gianna: Well, that was a bust. 1 star on Yelp. 0/10 would not recommend going on a date with Brian Summers.
She hit send, then grabbed the take-home box from the passenger seat and headed into her house. It wasn’t even late. Nine p.m. Still plenty of time for a bath and Bridget Jones. Anything to wash the remnants of that awful date from her mind.
The next morning, when her alarm went off at five-thirty a.m., she didn’t hit the snooze button like every other day. Instead, she checked her phone, expecting her friend to have texted back by now. A simple, I’m sorry you had to go through that , or even a Tell me everything .
But there was no reply. Zilch. Zero. Which made no sense since the message showed that it had been read.
Frowning, Holly turned in bed, yanking the sheets between her legs as she did so, and plumped up the pillow under her head. She scrolled up to see that Gianna had definitely opened her message, but how could she have read it and not replied?
It didn’t make sense. Not in the slightest. For a second she tried to remember if she’d said something yesterday, done something that might warrant this silent treatment.
Yet, she couldn’t think of a single thing.
When Holly had left Gianna yesterday, the pediatric surgeon had been smiling like usual.
There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.
She considered texting again; maybe Gianna had been called back to the hospital and had completely forgotten about the message.
But there was no need. In an hour, she’d meet up with her at the cafeteria like they did every Saturday when they were on call together. A quick cup of coffee before rounds.
With a long groan, more out of annoyance over her dismal date than Gianna ignoring her, Holly dragged herself out of bed and into the shower.
She arrived at Oakridge forty-five minutes later, already thinking about the coffee she needed to survive the day. And of course, to find out why Gianna had suddenly gone from always replying to her calls and texts, to ignoring her in the short span of twelve hours.
When Holly stepped into the cafeteria, she saw her.
Gianna was sitting at a table by the window, a large cup of coffee in front of her while her eyes were glued to her phone.
Seriously?
For a second, Holly stood frozen on the spot, her coffee craving temporarily overridden by sheer disbelief.
Gianna—her friend, her favorite colleague, the woman who never left a text unanswered for more than five minutes unless she was elbow-deep in surgery—was sitting right there, sipping coffee and scrolling through her phone like she hadn’t left Holly on read all night.
The betrayal hit Holly square in the chest, hard and unrelenting, and even though her mind told her that Gianna probably had an excuse—a hundred good, valid excuses that would make Holly feel rather ridiculous for being annoyed in the first place—she still couldn’t shake that feeling.
She stared at Gianna for a few seconds longer and at one point even stepped out of the way of a group of three nurses from the neonatal department, wearing their light blue scrubs.
Holly half-expected Gianna to feel her presence and look up, only to launch into an apology.
But no. She kept scrolling. Kept sipping.
Completely oblivious to the fact that Holly was standing there, gaping at her like she’d just caught her cheating—friendship cheating.
Or maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal and Holly was just overthinking things like she always did.
Maybe Gianna had fallen asleep before she replied, or got sidetracked, and maybe she’d meant to text back but had just forgotten.
She was only human after all, even if she saved tiny human lives that made her seem almost superhuman,
Still, the tiny knot of irritation in Holly’s chest refused to fully untangle.
Shaking herself out of her state of shock, Holly beelined for the table and plonked down in the seat across from Gianna, who just kept staring at her phone, scrolling with the focus of a surgeon mid-pediatric bowel resection.
“Wow,” Holly said, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. “Ignoring my texts and now ignoring me in person? What’s next, G. Are you going to block my number?”
At least that got a reaction. Gianna’s mouth twitched, but still, she didn’t look up, her fingers clicking away silently against the screen.
“Sorry, it’s just this case that came in last night…
” She carried on typing for another few seconds before she placed her phone screen down and looked up, finally meeting Holly’s gaze.
“Esophageal atresia. Newborn, full-term, couldn’t swallow.
Had to place a tube to keep her from aspirating before we could even think about surgery. ”
“You worked last night?” Holly asked, her brows pulling together. As far as she knew, Gianna had gone home after yesterday’s surgery, but it was also very likely that she was called back. Emergencies didn’t exactly follow a nine-to-five schedule.
“Yes,” Gianna said, sighing and leaning back in the chair. “I got called out close to midnight.” She reached for her coffee cup and took a sip, letting the rim linger against her lips. There was no mention of the text message.
“Okay,” Holly said slowly, placing her palms flat on the table before she grabbed a fistful of sugar sachets and began tearing them open. “What’s going on with you?”
Gianna just stared at her, a slight furrow forming between her brows while her lips pressed into a thin line as if she was trying to figure out how to respond. But instead of actually giving Holly a valid answer, Gianna asked, “What do you mean? Why do you think something’s wrong with me?”