4. Addie
ADDIE
W ho 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 the tension 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 distance between 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.
She walked out, shutting the door quietly behind her. Addie made her way to the staff lounge. How could someone be so brilliant yet so distant?
As she entered the lounge, she overheard a group of nurses chatting near the coffee machine.
“Did you see Dr. Carlisle in the OR?” one of them asked, eyes wide. “She’s incredible. Barely broke a sweat.”
Another nurse grinned and added, “She looks like she stepped out of a magazine. If I looked like that, I’d never wear scrubs.”
Addie didn’t join in. She grabbed a cup from the counter and filled it with water, ignoring the conversation.
She already knew how the staff would react to someone like Giselle.
It was the same story every time—someone new and beautiful, who was also a surgical genius, instantly became the topic of conversation.
But Addie wasn’t interested in gossip. Giselle’s beauty bothered her. And her insides tingled at the thought of her when they should twist in response to her coldness.
She admired Giselle’s skill. How could she not? The knowledge in her movements, the exactness in every cut, every stitch—it was remarkable. But the way Giselle had looked through everyone in the room like they didn’t exist...that was hard to swallow.
Addie tossed the empty cup in the trash and made her way to Josephine’s office. She needed to clear her head, and part of that meant figuring out how to avoid being around Giselle more than necessary.
When she reached Josephine’s door, she knocked once before stepping inside. Josephine sat behind her desk, going through a stack of files.
“Addie,” Josephine said without looking up. “Nice work today.”
Addie sighed and forced a smile. “I was only doing my job.”
“How’s Sophie?” Josephine asked.
Addie smiled. Her daughter, Sophie, was best friends with Josephine’s daughter, Natalie. “Sophie’s good.”
Josephine finally looked up. “What brings you here?”
“I need a change,” Addie said, standing in the doorway. “I don’t think I can work with Dr. Carlisle.”
Josephine raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?”
Addie crossed her arms. “You’ve seen how she is. She’s...disconnected. There’s no emotion, no acknowledgment of the people she’s saving. It’s like she’s working with robots, not humans.”
Josephine leaned back in her chair. “She’s a surgeon, Addie. One of the best in the country.”
“I know that,” Addie said, frustration bubbling up. “Her skillset isn’t the issue.”
“Then what is?”
Addie hesitated. How could she explain what bothered her when she wasn’t sure? It wasn’t just about Giselle’s detachment. It was the way her presence unsettled her, the way she felt drawn to someone so cold and brazen. And that made her more frustrated every time she thought about it.
“She doesn’t connect with people,” Addie said finally. “I don’t think she belongs here.”
Josephine sighed, taking off her glasses and rubbing her temples. “Giselle Carlisle isn’t a novice, Addie. She’s here because I wanted the best for this hospital. And we need you to help her adjust.”
Addie’s brows shot up. “Adjust? She doesn’t need to adjust. She’s already operating in this place like she’s been here for years.”
“She needs to learn how we do things here,” Josephine said. “And you’re the best person to show her.”
“Josephine, she doesn’t need me,” Addie countered. “She’s not some junior doctor. She’s probably more experienced and capable than anyone else on staff.”
“That may be true,” Josephine said, folding her hands on the desk, “but I still need you to show her around. Make sure she understands how we operate here—beyond just the surgeries.”
Addie narrowed her eyes. “You’re really not going to let me out of this?”
Josephine smiled, but it lacked her usual warmth. “No, I’m not.”
Addie let out a breath and dropped into the chair across from Josephine’s desk.
She hated this. She hated that, despite everything, she admired Giselle.
There was something about her that was hard to ignore.
She was composed, talented, and devastatingly beautiful, with her dark hair perfectly tied back and her face smooth and sharp, as if she didn’t have a single care in the world .
And that was what bothered Addie most. Giselle acted like nothing could touch her, like she was above the rest of them, floating through the day with that frigid, unaffected expression.
Addie leaned forward, rubbing her temples. “Fine. I’ll do it. But don’t expect me to like it.”
Josephine chuckled softly and picked up her glasses again. “I don’t expect you to like it. I expect you to do your job.”
Addie stood up, pushing the chair back with a soft scrape against the floor. “Anything else?”
Josephine shook her head and returned her attention to the files on her desk. “That’s all for now. You’ll be fine, Addie. Giselle’s tough, but she’ll come around.”
Addie wasn’t so sure about that. She walked to the door.
“Don’t wait too long to start,” Josephine said, catching her right by the knob. “Giselle’s not the patient type.”
Addie didn’t respond as she stepped out of the office.
Her footsteps trailed down the hall as she walked, anger simmering beneath the surface.
Why wouldn’t Josephine let her work with someone else?
There were plenty of other surgeons and plenty of cases.
But for some reason, Josephine was determined to pair her with Giselle.
She thought back to the surgery, to Giselle standing across from her, defiant and collected, like nothing in the world could faze her. It was infuriating. And yet...there was no denying her beauty, from her plump lips to warm, creamy skin that glimmered in the hospital light.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, pulling her out of her thoughts. She glanced at the screen and saw the name of Sophie’s school. Addie’s heart skipped a beat as she quickly answered.
“Dr. Wolfe?” the teacher’s voice came through. “Sorry to bother you, but Sophie isn’t feeling well. Can you come pick her up?”
Addie checked the time on her watch. She had an hour left on her shift. “I’ll be there soon. I’m finishing up here in about an hour. Can she wait?”
“She’s resting in the nurse’s office. We’ll keep an eye on her until you get here.”
Addie let out a deep breath as she mentally rearranged her day. “Thanks. Can I speak with her?”
There was a brief shuffle before Sophie’s small voice came on the line. “Mom?”
“Hey, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”
“My tummy hurts,” Sophie said softly. “But I’m okay.”
Addie’s heart softened. “I’ll be there soon, alright? Just rest for now.”
“Okay.” Sophie paused. “I was playing with Natalie before I got sick.”
Addie smiled.
“That’s great, honey. I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay. Bye, Mom.”
Addie hung up, stared at her phone momentarily, and slipped it back into her pocket. She shook her head and headed back toward her office to wrap up the day.
Just one more hour, and then she could focus on Sophie.