The Girl Who Always Wins (Soulless Book 13)
Page 11
“Always.” She gave me that mom look, like I’d just made an ugly-ass finger painting, but she thought it was a work of art.
“I know it’s not really Dad’s thing.”
“It is. It’s just harder for him when it’s you. The men are usually the ones who do the stupid stuff, so with Derek, it was about reprimanding him and teaching him to get his shit together. Dex, too. But with you…it’s hard to watch you be on the receiving end of a man’s stupidity.”
“I don’t know if it’s stupidity…”
“I think it is. He’s letting his insecurities get the best of him.”
“It’s complicated.”
She shook her head. “Maybe I’m just biased, but I’m not a big fan of him right now.”
“Mom.”
“He broke my daughter’s heart. I’m entitled to my rage.”
“Well…maybe if I’d just kept my distance, none of this would have happened.”
She shook her head. “You were trying to help him, and you should never have to apologize for that. Ever.”
It wasn’t the same without Atlas there.
Didn’t realize how good of a boss he was until he was gone.
I’d wanted the director’s position so bad that I didn’t realize the full extent of the responsibility the role entailed. There was less time for patient care because I had to make room for paperwork and administrative bullshit. I got to hand-select the clients who came into the clinic and assign them to the best physician for the job, even taking first-pick for myself, but I didn’t have the same time that I used to, so I could only handle one at a time.
I sat at my desk and looked through the glass windows, seeing everyone else working in their offices, the assistants answering phones or checking patients in to the rooms. The desk that once belonged to Atlas now belonged to me.
And it came with very big shoes to fill.
I knew we would never get back together, so a part of me wished I’d never met him.
The heartbreak was too much.
But I knew that wish wasn’t really sincere.
Or maybe it was…because how could I go from Atlas to anyone else?
How could I ever love anyone else again…when they would never compare?
Ever.
13
Atlas
I expected Dr. Hamilton to address the breakup with Daisy.
He never did.
Our relationship didn’t change either. He treated me exactly as he had before, not a hint of resentment or anger. Maybe he was on my side. Maybe he knew Daisy had crossed a line instead of respecting my wishes.
I wouldn’t ask him, so I would never know.
I sat in my pod at the hospital, the beeps of the monitors intrusive at first, but after a couple hours, they were white noise. I could fall asleep to the sound if I were tired enough, and if the monitors were turned off, it would jolt me from sleep.
Daisy never texted.
Never called.
And as the time passed, the loss started to hit me harder.
When the anger was gone, there was nothing left behind but grief.
My penthouse felt bigger than it had before, felt lonelier. I spent all my time working, and while that had been perfectly fine before, I felt a bit unfulfilled now. She’d taken up a chunk of my life that somehow felt like both business and pleasure. She was the person I enjoyed the most, and her intellect was enough to drive me to keep up. It was stimulating, enjoyable. I missed her like crazy.
I wished it hadn’t ended that way.
I wished I’d told her the truth sooner.
I wished…for a lot of things.
Dr. Hamilton dropped into the chair beside me with three charts in hand. He spread them out on the table beside him then moved his mouse so the screen would wake. The nurses hated it when the doctors hogged multiple charts at once, but they never said anything to him, because he was Dr. Hamilton.
The one time I’d done it, I got death threats. “I’m waiting on some results then I’ll leave for the night.”
He finished typing up his notes before he regarded me. “Everything is looking good. Better progress than last time.”
“I guess it’s because of the sample of people. More compatible.”
“And hopefully we figure out why they’re more compatible.” He didn’t turn in his chair and get back to work. He stared for a while.
That was when I knew it was coming. It was smart to be proactive about it. “It’s been hard, but…I’ll get through it.” Finding a woman you genuinely loved, who felt perfect straightaway, and then having to walk away…was one of the hardest thing I’d ever done.
He continued to stare.
“How’s she doing?”
Silence.
Now I felt the change in the energy, the animosity that surrounded him with palpable intensity.
“You made a mistake, Atlas.”
I stared, shocked by what he said.
“She’s one in a million. And lightning doesn’t strike twice.”
I inhaled a slow breath, already understanding what I’d lost. “We want different things—”
“You don’t want different things. Because she wants to be with you, regardless of the sacrifices she has to make for that to happen, and you want to be with her just as much. My daughter is just like me, looking for solutions the second there’s a problem. You made the mistake of misinterpreting her intentions, of merging one woman’s past with your new woman’s future. Even if I’m wrong, even if you get to that place and she does leave you, you had that time with her. You took the risk—because of the enormous reward. There is only one Daisy Hamilton. I understand I’m biased, but my daughter is one hell of a woman, and you won’t find anyone else to hold a candle to her. All she wants to do is try to help you. Not because you need to be fixed. But because she wants to make you happy, to give you back something that someone else said you could never have. You worked with her at the clinic, and I’m shocked that you can’t figure that out on your own. She’s the most selfless person I know. She wants to help people—regardless of the cost to herself. So, get your shit together before it’s too late.”
I was floored by everything he’d said, feeling the pent-up anger, feeling the suppressed rage in the restraint of his voice. “Dr. Hamilton—”
“That’s all I’ll say about it.” He turned in his chair and looked at his screen again. “Do what you want.”
Our relationship was different.
He was quiet now.
He only talked about work and never made small talk about anything. He barely looked at me, barely acknowledged my existence. He had been fine before, but something had set him off and he’d plunged into a silence he couldn’t shake.
I’d hoped this wouldn’t happen.
I’d hoped he would be compassionate and understanding…like he always was.
Guess that didn’t apply when it involved one of his kids.
It already hurt that Daisy and I weren’t together, but it hurt even more that I’d also lost a relationship that meant a lot to me, a colleague, a friend, and a father.
I stood at the workbench and stared at the vials in front of me, ready to be placed into the centrifuge to see the separation of the cells, but instead of making a move, I got lost in my thoughts.
I didn’t realize how depressed I was until it hit me right then and there.
I’d finally had happiness…and now it was gone.
All because I was born differently.
Because I had a disorder that could only be treated, not cured.
It cost my marriage, which didn’t sadden me anymore because she hadn’t been right for me anyway. Daisy had been the one, the woman I wouldn’t have met if that hadn’t happened. But it had cost me that relationship too.
Dr. Hamilton appeared across the table from me.
Didn’t even hear him walk inside.
I looked at him through my goggles, my blue nitrile gloves still on my hands, and I took a slow br
eath when I saw his face. I snapped out of my thoughts. “I’m almost done. When I have the results, I’ll—”
“I apologize for my behavior. I let my emotions get the best of me.”
There was so much relief in my next breath because losing him was just as bad as losing Daisy. He’d become the foundation under my feet that I needed. Before that, I was on mud, my feet slipping.
“I understand the situation is complicated, but it became less complicated when I saw the devastation in her eyes…and when my wife told me how hard she sobbed.” His eyes appeared lifeless, his pain written on his skin like words. “I didn’t speak to you for a few days because I knew I’d say something awful. But then it just came out, insensitive and cold, and worse, unprofessional.”
“I understand…”
“All I focused on was her…and I completely disregarded you.”
“Again, I understand.” I was just happy the man I admired and respected was back, calm and pragmatic, subtly affectionate.
He looked away for a while. “I stand by everything that I said, however.” He turned back to me. “You’re making inaccurate assumptions, assumptions based on a past relationship with a completely different person. Daisy has a heart purer than mine, and all she wants to do is help you. Whether she succeeds or fails doesn’t change the way she loves you. My best advice, as pragmatic as it can be, is to save this relationship while you still can. It’s worth getting hurt again—if it comes to that.”
I dropped my gaze, looking at the vials between us.
“I can’t begin to understand how difficult this is for you, but I do understand that when it comes to reproduction, our bodies are ingrained with instincts that are impossible to control. You’re protecting yourself the only way you know how because it’s easier to lose Daisy than to subject yourself to that again. Than to be told you can’t father children. Than to be told that your unique blood disorder has sabotaged your life permanently. So, you should either be brave and let Daisy try to help you—because she can make miracles happen—or don’t let her help you and be with her. I don’t think there’s a third option here, not if you want to be happy. Not if you want her to be happy.”
“I…I don’t know. I know what she really wants in life…and I can’t give that to her.”
He was quiet for a long time, thinking of what to say. “I heard something a while ago…you should always write out your future in pencil, not pen. Because it changes. And it’s okay that it changes. With most women, they want to have their own children, be pregnant, do all those things. But everything that comes after that, loving your children unconditionally, dropping them off for kindergarten for the very first time, taking them on trips they’ll never forget…that all still happens. The only part of this story that you’re changing is their conception and birth. But the rest…it’s the same.”
I dropped my gaze.
“Daisy agrees with that. She’s never referred to Lizzie as Derek’s stepdaughter. She’s never referred to Derek as her half brother. That’s not how we see each other. We’re all Hamiltons, whether that’s through blood, marriage, adoption…whatever. You aren’t denying Daisy anything.”
I continued to keep my gaze averted, feeling that longing more than I ever had before. It wasn’t just her that I missed. It was her family. It was these people…these good people. I wanted to be selfish. “You really think Daisy feels that way…?”
He didn’t say anything.
I lifted my gaze and looked at him.
His dark eyes were confident. “With all my heart.”
I took a couple days to gather my bearings.
Had to really think this through.
Because once I took that step, there was no going back.
Dr. Hamilton didn’t ask me about it, and when we were in the lab together, it was friendly professionalism. He wouldn’t tell Daisy about our conversation, not get her hopes up when he didn’t know the outcome.
On Friday night, I found the strength to go to her penthouse.
I knocked.
No answer.
I knocked a couple more times until I accepted that she wasn’t home.
My heart fell in despair because I feared the worst.
That she was out, getting drinks from guys, finding someone to take home.
Fuck, just the thought made me sick.
I didn’t want to do this over the phone, but I didn’t have any other luxury. I called.
It rang for a while before it went to voice mail.
My heart sank further.
Was she ignoring me?
Did I take too long?
It’d been three weeks…and other people had moved on quicker than that.
I texted her. Can we talk?
The three dots didn’t light up.
There were only a couple reasons she would ignore me. One, she didn’t want to talk to me. Two, she was partying in a club, and her phone was buried in her clutch. Three, she was already with a guy. And four…
Despite the late hour, I texted Dr. Hamilton. Sorry, I know it’s late. Can’t get a hold of Daisy. Is she at a tournament?
His dots lit up instantly. Atlantic City. She’ll be home Sunday.
I was relieved. She was probably in the match right this moment. She wasn’t actively ignoring me. When the tournament was over, she’d call me.
But did I want to do this over the phone?
Her tournament would last a couple hours. If I left right now…
Dr. Hamilton’s text popped up on my phone. There’s a flight leaving in thirty minutes.
Thanks.
Go get her.
14
Daisy
I could really go for a cigar right now.
Something to settle the nerves. Something to make me relax in a way alcohol couldn’t reproduce.
But my dad’s disappointment was permanently carved into my brain, and I couldn’t go through that again.
I was too depressed to play, but I had nothing else to do, so whatever. I signed up for this tournament a long time ago, and it would be really fucked up to bail. I approached the table with my drink in hand, not in the same spunky mood my opponents were used to from me. It would probably totally throw them off.
I stilled at the table, recognizing the face across from me.
Okay…didn’t expect that.
Mason was there, his scotch on the table, his arms folded over his chest as he looked at me.
“This should be fun…” I took my seat and set down my glass.
He continued to stare at me while the other players got settled in. This one wasn’t televised, so we didn’t have to worry about the cameras and the commercials. Some of the other guys had cigars, and long-term exposure to secondhand smoke could be just as bad as firsthand, but I didn’t have a choice.
I ignored Mason’s piercing gaze, basically pretending he was wasn’t there.
But I was definitely unnerved—because I didn’t expect to see him again.
He either didn’t care that I was in the match, or he wanted to make another move.
I didn’t like either explanation.
When the chips and cards were ready, the match began.
The casino behind us brought with it the audible sound of chips moving, waitresses delivering drinks, music over the speakers. The guys at my table kept their eyes down on their cards, moving the game along, making their selections while drawing as little attention to themselves as possible.
Except Mason.
He stared at me every chance he got.
I ignored him as best I could and tried to play like it was my best night, like I wasn’t heartbroken, like I wasn’t delirious with sadness and primed to do something stupid.
Or do someone stupid…
Three weeks had come and gone, and I hadn’t gotten a single text from Atlas. Dad believed he would change his mind, that he would see reason, but three weeks was a long time…more like an eternity.
And he could replace me in a heartbeat. W
ith eyes like that…a smile that melted the underwear right down my legs. Even if he couldn’t have children, a woman would gladly take him. I’d adopt kids with him happily… I just wished he believed that.
The pot grew, men started to fold, but Mason and I stayed in the game.
I was surprised I’d made it this far because I’d lost count of the cards. Just couldn’t focus.
My opponents must have assumed I was on my game even if I wasn’t.
My hand was shitty, there was a lot of money on the table, and I knew I’d lost the match.
He watched me before he flattened his cards, putting them facedown. “I fold.”
My eyes narrowed because there was no reason to fold when it was just the two of us. May as well put the cards down and hope they beat mine.
Everyone stared at me.
I put my cards down—a pair of sevens.
With nothing, I won the pot.
The pile of chips was pushed to me, and the other opponents at the table immediately got up to get their next drink.
I didn’t take the chips in the center. My eyes remained on him, suspicious.
Wordlessly, he turned over his cards.
A royal flush.
“What the hell was that?” I cornered Mason at the bar, the two of us waiting for our drinks to pop up.
With his devilish charm and handsome smirk, he gave a shrug, his hands in his pockets.
“Seriously, we’re splitting this.”
“I don’t want it.”
“You think letting me win is going to get me to sleep with you?” I asked incredulously.
“No. Not trying to get you to sleep with me.”
“Did my boyfriend not make it clear that I wasn’t interested?” It hurt just to say that because he wasn’t my boyfriend anymore. He wasn’t my future husband, my partner in life, a man my father would love like a son.
“Ex-boyfriend.”
My eyes narrowed, unsure how he knew that.