8. Addie
ADDIE
G iselle was tense. Even for her. Addie was certain about that.
It wasn’t obvious, but Addie noticed the subtle signs—Giselle’s shoulders pulled tight, her jaw set a little too firmly, and her eyes darting away anytime someone got too close. It was like she had a barrier around her that she kept in place even after they’d left the OR.
Addie decided to break the silence. “If you keep frowning like that, everyone will assume that the worst happened in the OR.”
Giselle looked over at her, eyes narrowing slightly. “I wasn’t aware my expression changed the outcome of a surgery. ”
“It doesn’t, unless you count a mother fainting the second you step out of the OR,” Addie said, shrugging. “But don’t worry. They’re good now.”
Giselle opened her mouth to say something, but closed it immediately. Addie watched as her eyes shifted ahead as they approached a group in the waiting room. A family was gathered together, hugging and talking in excited whispers. One of the doctors had just given them some good news.
Giselle slowed her pace, her gaze lingering on the family.
Addie noticed her expression soften, just for a moment.
She didn’t say anything, but it was the first time Addie had seen Giselle look like she was watching people like that, almost as if she were disconnected from the scene but still curious about it.
There was more to Giselle than the ice queen persona everyone in the hospital talked about. Addie had suspected as much, but seeing her like this made her even more curious. She wanted to know what made Giselle tickandwhy she kept herself at such a distance from everyone.
But she was also cautious. Getting too close to Giselle felt like walking on thin ice, and Addie wasn’t sure what would happen if it cracked.
Distracted by her thoughts, Addie missed a step. Her foot twisted awkwardly beneath her and she stumbled, barely catching herself before falling. A sharp pain shot through her ankle, and she winced, reaching for the wall to steady herself.
Giselle was at her side in an instant, her hands firm as she helped Addie to the nearest chair. “Are you alright?”
Addie nodded, though her ankle throbbed. “I think I just twisted it. Nothing major.”
Giselle knelt in front of her, her hands gently grasping Addie’s ankle.
Addie’s breath hitched at the unexpected contact.
Giselle’s fingers pressed against her skin, carefully massaging the area and sending shivers through her.
She tried to ignore it, but it was impossible not to react to the warmth of Giselle’s touch.
“You should be careful,” Giselle said. “This could’ve been much worse.”
Addie swallowed hard, watching Giselle’s face as she worked. It was beautiful how she concentrated, as if this moment, this small injury, was just as important as the surgeries they performed together. It tightened Addie’s chest, though she tried to keep her expression neutral.
“I’ve had worse,” Addie said, trying to lighten the mood. “I injured it years ago, and it’s never been quite the same. It’s one of the reasons I don’t drive anymore.”
Giselle looked up, her hands pausing. “You don’t drive?”
“Nope,” Addie said. “Haven’t since the accident. My ankle never fully recovered, but I’ve got a driver.”
For a moment, Giselle didn’t say anything. Her eyes stayed on Addie’s ankle, her fingers still resting there, and the silence between them felt heavier than it should. Addie’s heart pounded, her skin tingling where Giselle’s hands lingered.
Then Giselle’s gaze slowlymoved up, locking onto Addie’s. There was a spark in her eyes that made Addie’s breath catch.
Giselle’s hand slid just a fraction up Addie’s leg, her touch still gentle, but more deliberate now. Addie’s throat went dry as the warmth from Giselle’s hand seemed to radiate through her entire body.
For a second, Addie thought Giselle might kiss her. The thought flashed through her mind, sharp and undeniable, as Giselle leaned just slightly closer, her aquamarine blue eyes never leaving Addie’s.
Addie’s heart raced, her pulse thudding in her ears. The world around them seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of them.
But then, Giselle pulled back. She stood up quickly, her hands dropping away from Addie’s ankle as if the moment hadn’t happened.
“You should stay off that for a bit,” Giselle said, her tone reverting to its usual neutrality. “Should get some ice on it. I’ll get a nurse to check on you.”
Addie blinked, her mind struggling to catch up with the sudden shift.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak right away.
Her ankle still ached, but it was nothing compared to the jolt of electricity that had just passed between them.
She couldn’t ignore it, even if Giselle was pretending nothing had happened.
Giselle stood a few feet away now, her posture rigid again, the distance between them reinstated. It was as if she’d shut herself off in an instant and put her cold, professional walls back up.
Addie flexed her ankle, testing the pain. “It’s not that bad,” she said, trying to fill the silence. “I’ve dealt with worse.”
Giselle gave her a curt nod. “Still, better to be cautious. You don’t want to aggravate it.”
“Thanks for helping me,” Addie said.
Giselle finally met her eyes, but just for a second. “It was nothing.”
Giselle stood back up, the cool professional mask firmly back in place, but Addie wasn’t about to let it slide. There’d been a shift between them, and she wasn’t ready to let Giselle retreat into her icy demeanor so easily.
“You know, for someone so good at being cold, you were pretty sweet with my ankle,” Addie said, leaning back against the chair and watching Giselle closely. “Almost had me thinking you cared.”
Giselle frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “I was just doing my job.”
Addie smirked. “Oh, come on. If we’re going to be working together, you have to learn to take a joke.”
Giselle’s frown deepened. “Is everything a joke to you?”
“Not everything.” Addie grinned and pushed herself up off the chair, though her ankle still ached. “Just the good parts.”
Giselle’s gaze narrowed, but there was something behind it, a glimmer of something softer. “How are you always so cheery?” she asked, her voice lower now, almost curious. “You walk around with that smile plastered on your face all the time.”
Addie shrugged casually. “It’s the pretzels.”
“The pretzels?”
“Yeah,” Addie said, keeping her expression serious. “Haven’t you heard? The cafeteria pretzels are life-changing.”
For a second, Giselle just stared at her. Then her lips parted slightly. “Pretzels? They’re that good?”
Addie laughed. Giselle’s seriousness amused her as much as it surprised her.
“No, it’s a joke.”
Giselle rolled her eyes, but Addie noticed her lips twitch, almost as if she was fighting back a smile. It was brief, but it was there. Addie found it sweet that Giselle tried to keep up her icy exterior. It only made her want to dig deeper, to find out what lay beneath the surface.
“So why are you always so sweet, then?” Giselle asked, crossing her arms again, though her tone had softened. “Since it’s not the pretzels.”
Addie swallowed. “You just called me sweet,” she said, raising a brow.
“Don’t push it,” Giselle said.
Addie shrugged, leaning back against the wall now, feeling a little more comfortable in the conversation. “I guess it’s just what I know. Both of my moms were always nice.”
Giselle’s eyes flicked up at that. “Both of them?”
“Yeah,” Addie said with a smile. “I was raised by two women who knew how to keep things light, even when life got hard.”
There was a pause. Giselle’s eyes shifted slightly and her posture stiffened again. “So they never tried to push you into anything? Never forced you into a career path?”
Addie chuckled softly, though her amusement faded when she saw the flash of something—pain?—in Giselle’s eyes. “No,” she said gently, “they didn’t force me into anything. They just wanted me to be happy.”
Giselle didn’t respond right away. Instead, her gaze drifted toward the window at the far end of the hall. Addie watched her closely, noticing the way Giselle’s shoulders tensed and her hands clenched at her sides.
Before the silence could stretch too long, Addie pushed herself off the wall, her ankle still protesting slightly. “You know what? I think we’re done here. My ankle could use a break, and I think we both could, too.”
Giselle hesitated, but eventually nodded. She started walking ahead, but Addie noticed that she slowed just enough for her to keep up.
Addie tried not to think too much about everything that’d just happened. Giselle had cracked, but only enough to hold a brief conversation. It meant nothing. It definitely wasn’t enough to justify the wide smile currently on her face. She glanced at Giselle.
Giselle’s lips were pressed into a thin line as they stepped outside. Her gaze drifted to the sky, watching as the sun dipped lower behind the horizon. For a second, Addie thought she might open up more, but then Giselle straightened her posture, the cold mask slipping back into place.
“Thanks for getting some air with me,” Giselle said, her tone cool again, though not unkind.
They walked back inside together, the hum of the hospital surrounding them.
Giselle stayed quiet beside her, her hands tucked into her coat pockets as they made their way down the hall.
There was a stiffness in her posture again, a careful distance that made it clear whatever had almost happened earlier wasn’t up for discussion.
Just as they reached the end of the hallway, they ran into Josephine, who was heading toward them with a smile on her face.
“There you two are,” Josephine said. “Just the people I wanted to see.”
Addie raised an eyebrow, glancing between Josephine and Giselle, who remained silent, her gaze fixed on the floor.
“We’re having a small gathering for Ember’s birthday this weekend,” Josephine continued, “and I wanted to extend the invitation to you both. ”
Addie blinked, taken aback by the sudden invitation. “I don’t know if I can make it. I’ve been having trouble getting around lately.”
Josephine tilted her head, curious. “Trouble?”
Addie shifted her weight slightly, feeling a bit self-conscious about the lingering weakness in her ankle. “I had an old injury flare up, and my driver is usually booked on the weekends. It makes getting out of the house a bit complicated.”
Josephine didn’t miss a beat. “You can carpool with Giselle.”
Addie’s eyes widened and she looked at Giselle, who’d been standing quietly beside them. Giselle looked up at that, her expression as unreadable as ever, but there was a flicker of surprise in her eyes.
“I…what?” Addie managed, her mind racing. The idea of spending more time with Giselle, let alone in a car outside of work, felt like a lot more than she was prepared for.
Josephine smiled, clearly pleased with her suggestion. “It makes sense. You two already work together, and Giselle drives. It’ll be easy. ”
Giselle’s lips parted, but no words came out. She seemed as stunned as Addie, though she kept her face neutral, eyes flicking briefly to Addie before settling back on Josephine.
“I guess that could work,” Addie said, though the words felt strange on her tongue. She wasn’t sure how to navigate this—spending more time with Giselle outside of work after everything that had happened earlier. But before she could think of another excuse, Josephine nodded.
“Perfect,” Josephine said, clearly satisfied. “It’ll be a great chance for everyone to relax outside the hospital. You’ll both enjoy it.”
Addie glanced over at Giselle again, her pulse quickening. Giselle’s eyes met hers, and for a moment, neither spoke. They just stood there, staring at each other.