The Doctor Who Has No Closure (Soulless Book 10)

by Victoria Quinn

  “Attitude is everything, man.”

  Did Dylan Dubois just call me man? “Then shall we proceed?”

  “Fuck yes.”

  I turned to Sicily. “Get him on the schedule.”

  “On it,” Sicily said, typing.

  “Thank you so much.” Dylan got to his feet. “I fully trust you.”

  I shook his hand. “I will do everything I can to take care of you.”

  “I know,” he said as he walked away. “Why do you think I came to you?”

  I’d just stepped out of the shower after my session at the gym when my mom called.

  I’d had a long-ass day, and all I wanted to do was scarf down a snack and go to sleep. I was with the residents at the hospital tomorrow morning, and I needed to get plenty of rest. But it was my mom, and I couldn’t ignore her.

  With the towel wrapped around my waist, I walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge with the phone to my ear. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?” I squinted my eyes when I looked inside, seeing groceries I hadn’t bought. There was deli meat, cheese, a rotisserie chicken, almond milk, and a couple other things.

  “I just wanted to see how things were going. Sicily says you’re quite the superhero.”

  “Well, she’s the rock star. She hustles hard and gets stuff done. I wouldn’t be able to do as much without her help, and I probably wouldn’t eat if she didn’t feed me throughout the day.” I grabbed the meat and cheese and stood at the counter to make a sandwich. I put her on speaker and set the phone down so I could wipe the mustard on the bread. “You’d be proud.”

  The smile was in her voice. “I already am.”

  “So…Sicily showed me the apartment.”

  Mom was quiet.

  “It’s nice.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “Mom, come on, I love it. But you didn’t need to do that.”

  “We know how stubborn you are, and getting you closer to work is going to make your life so much easier. Your father has to drive out to New Jersey every single day, and trust me, he wishes he could just walk across the street.”

  “Yeah, Derek complains about it too.”

  “Well, I’m glad you aren’t mad.”

  “Oh, I’m mad,” I said quickly. “I just can’t be mean to my mom.”

  The smile in her voice returned. “That’s sweet.”

  “I just booked an all-cash patient, so I’ll pay you back.”

  “You really don’t have to do that—”

  “It’s gonna happen.” I knew my parents pitied me because I lost so much of my money in the divorce. Catherine knew exactly what she was entitled to as a lawyer, and she didn’t hesitate to bleed me dry. It was hard to believe she ever loved me when we sat in that courtroom and converted our beautiful life together into dollars and cents. But my parents wouldn’t pay for my stupidity, and I would make my own way in life. I could pay my parents back with a couple big clients, and then my apartment would be paid off. It would take some time to pay them back for the office.

  Mom didn’t fight it. “Okay.”

  My parents already did so much for me, paid for my education all the way through medical school, and I wouldn’t take another dollar from them. It didn’t matter if my dad was worth billions and that money was nothing to him. That wasn’t the point. I loved my parents because they were my parents—not because of their piggy bank. “I’m pretty exhausted after my day. Can we talk later?” I built the sandwich then carried it to the couch, still in my towel.

  “Sure, baby. Just wanted to check in. Love you.”

  I took a bite and chewed, and then spoke with my mouth full because I was starving. “Love you too, Mom.”

  3

  Sicily

  When I arrived at the apartment with the moving truck, Dex’s possessions had been placed in boxes around the living space. I told him I would pack up everything for him, but he went ahead and did it himself. “I’m here.” I let myself inside. It was Saturday morning, a free day because we hadn’t started to schedule patients yet. Dex had had surgeries all day yesterday—and they went well.

  Dex came out from the hallway, in the process of pulling his shirt over his head.

  I caught a glimpse of the hardest, deepest abs I’d ever seen. He wasn’t bulky, but cut…ripped.

  My eyes immediately widened as my heartbeat quickened, seeing that he looked as hard as he felt. I covered up the reaction before he noticed my stare and realized I had the hots for him—if he didn’t already know that.

  “Morning.” He was in gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips and a t-shirt, as if he expected to move things when I’d hired someone to do it for him. “I was thinking we could donate all the furniture. The only things I’m bringing are my clothes and knickknacks.”

  “That’s a great idea.” I had already anticipated that. After the moving guys dropped off his belongings, they would take the rest of the stuff to a donation center.

  A couple guys came in and started with the couch, picking it up and carrying it outside. Other guys grabbed other pieces of furniture and started moving it.

  Dex went to one of the boxes that was marked as clothes. “Let’s get started.”

  “You don’t have to do anything, Dex. I thought you could enjoy your day off while I have these guys take care of it.”

  He lifted the box, his forearms tight with corded veins, and he wore a nice smile. “That sounds nice, but I’m happy to help.” He carried it outside and disappeared.

  I started to look through his apartment to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything important in a drawer somewhere. I walked into his bedroom, which had a couple boxes next to his furniture. I checked the drawers of his nightstand and found them empty. When I backed up, I accidentally bumped into two boxes stacked on each other, and they tipped over onto the floor, the sound of physical objects clanking. “Oh shit.” The lid had opened to the box on the top, and a couple things had slid onto the carpet. Picture frames, books, stuff like that. I kneeled and put the box back together, noticing a picture of Dex and his older brother Derek. They stood at a table in a bookstore, a stack of books behind them. Dex had his arm around Derek, and they both smiled as they held up their books. It looked like a book signing. His brother was an author, so maybe Dex had attended one of his signings. He looked a couple years younger, but just as handsome.

  I smiled before I put it back.

  Then I noticed the picture frame underneath.

  It was a bride and groom, holding each other close on their wedding day. The bride was gorgeous, with long, curled hair and a smile that could make her a model, and she wore a beautiful gown with her veil hanging behind her.

  The groom was Dex.

  Their foreheads were pressed together as his large arms circled her waist.

  I could tell how much he loved her just by looking at the picture.

  I could tell she loved him too.

  It wasn’t a posed photograph, but an organic one, taken on their wedding day when they didn’t notice because they were too absorbed in each other. It felt like I was prying into a moment of intimacy I shouldn’t see, so I put the picture frame back into the box, feeling a pain in my stomach that gnawed at me. I hated that woman without knowing her, despised her without knowing her side of the story, and I hated that Dex still had a picture of her when she didn’t deserve him, when she took all his money after he busted his ass to help people.

  When I looked up, I noticed Dex standing there. He looked down at me, his eyes wide and furious.

  Fuck. “The box tipped over… I’m sorry.”

  His mouth was harder than it’d ever been, like he was clenching his teeth as he also pressed his lips tightly together. He wanted to explode, but no words came. He suddenly moved quickly, shoving everything into the box, tipping it upright, and then carrying it from his bedroom.

  He didn’t say a word to me.

  I had a feeling he never would.

  I didn’t speak to Dex for the rest of the weekend, ho
ping his anger would dissolve by Monday morning.

  That didn’t happen.

  When he got into the SUV beside me, I handed him his coffee and breakfast. “Morning.”

  He took a drink of his coffee then looked out the window.

  Fuck, I was in deep shit.

  We arrived at Kline Clinic, and he purposely walked quickly because I would never be able to keep up with him in my heels. He made it to his office and shut the door.

  I went into my office and got to work, hoping his anger would simmer down on its own.

  When lunchtime arrived, I placed his meal on his desk then went into his lab.

  He was deeply focused, like always, and didn’t notice me.

  “I wanted to let you know I put lunch on your desk. I’m going to head back to the medical office because I have to make some follow-up calls.”

  Without looking up, he spoke. “Alright.”

  I lingered for a moment, hoping he would say something else.

  Nope. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

  He had already returned to ignoring me.

  I almost asked Cleo for advice about the situation, but I didn’t want to violate Dex’s privacy by telling her about the picture frame and making the situation worse. It was obviously really private to him, considering he threw out his diplomas and awards…but kept that picture.

  So, I had to figure this out on my own.

  He was just as silently hostile at the practice as he was any other time, so we worked through the patients while avoiding each other as much as possible. When lunchtime came around and I put his food on the coffee table while he read his paperwork, I decided to try to clear the air.

  I sat on the couch across from him and waited for him to acknowledge me.

  He didn’t.

  I inhaled a deep breath before I spoke. “I’m sorry about what happened. I wasn’t prying—”

  “You were going through my shit.” He lowered the paper and stared at me, his eyes vicious, burning in the center and making a ring of smoke around the edge. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

  Jesus.

  “I trusted you in my fucking home, and you do that?”

  When he started to yell, I wanted to yell back to defend myself, but that would just escalate the situation and make it worse. It took all my strength, but I kept my voice steady. “I backed into the boxes, the top one tipped over, and then I kneeled down to put everything back. I swear. I saw the first picture of you and your brother, and it was so cute that I couldn’t stop staring. And then I saw the other, and…I’m sorry. I would never violate your privacy intentionally. And not because you’re my boss, but because that’s not the kind of person I am. So, could you stop cursing at me and treating me like shit, please?”

  The second I said that, he redirected his gaze, as if ashamed.

  “I’m truly, deeply sorry. Okay?”

  He kept his gaze out the window, breathing hard, as if his anger were wrestling with his pragmatism. “Did you tell my mom?”

  “No. I would never do that.”

  After a couple seconds, his eyes flicked back to me, less hostile now.

  Relief washed through me now that the man I knew had returned, that he didn’t want to rip my head off my shoulders anymore. In a short amount of time, I felt like we’d become close, closer than friends, having a special kind of camaraderie based on trust. I didn’t want to lose that, not when we were doing amazing work together. “I’m sorry that I made you so uncomfortable—”

  “Forget it,” he said quickly. “I overreacted.” His hand moved to the back of his neck, and he massaged it before he dropped his hand back into his lap. “You just…caught me by surprise.” He lifted his chin and looked at me, his eyes a little more kind, and he put on a slight smile that was forced and almost painful, as if he were embarrassed by the way he behaved.

  I could let the conversation die and move on, but now that the subject was broached, I couldn’t just let it go. “I’m sorry about your divorce.” I knew it was rough, not because his mother told me so, not because of the way he reacted to the picture frame, but because he declared he wanted to be alone for the rest of his life. This woman really, really fucked him up.

  He lowered his gaze as if he couldn’t look at me, but he didn’t tell me to drop it either. His arms moved to his thighs, and he looked at the lunch I brought for him without touching it. His eyes were a little less bright now, thinking about the traumatic experience that still swamped his soul. “How do you know I’m divorced and not widowed?”

  I didn’t even think of that. “Your mom told me.”

  He shook his head slightly.

  “That was all she said. She didn’t tell me anything else.” I didn’t want to cause any tension between them when his mother was very loyal to him, safeguarding his secrets. “What happened?”

  He pulled his gaze away from his lunch and looked at me, a long bout of silence passing, as if he was actually considering answering me. “We were happy. Decided to start a family.” He started to massage his hands as he redirected his gaze. “Her father needed heart surgery…so she asked me to do it.”

  Oh shit… He was the patient Dex lost.

  “I was hesitant at first, but I would never deny her anything and I wanted her father to get the best care. So I agreed.” His throat worked as he swallowed, his eyes showing a flash of memories. “When I took him off bypass, his heart failed. The autopsy was inconclusive. I still don’t know what happened.” He rubbed his hands harder. “Catherine was distant after that, understandably so… Grief destroys us. But she pulled further and further away from me, even though I was grieving too. Her father was a father to me. Then she left me.”

  I instantly felt anger, full-bodied anger, along with a deep, painful sorrow.

  “She said it was just too hard, that she couldn’t look at me the same. She put the blame on me…and I couldn’t shake it.”

  I should just keep my mouth shut, but I couldn’t. “That’s so fucking wrong.”

  He gave a defeated shrug. “It made me feel responsible for Allen’s death…and that was when I left medicine.”

  I shook my head, my teeth grinding together, angry tears in my eyes. “I can’t believe that…”

  He looked down at his food and grabbed the sandwich so he could eat.

  “Fuck. Her.” It was totally inappropriate, but I couldn’t help it. I was livid, livid that some woman would ever do that to Dex, the best guy I’d ever known. “You tried to save his life. How dare she—”

  “It’s over. Doesn’t matter.” He took a bite and chewed slowly. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” He took another bite and continued to chew, his eyes down.

  I should accept his request, but I couldn’t. “You’ll find someone who deserves you, someone who will stand by your side no matter what, who will be thankful every single day that you’re hers.”

  He chewed before he shook his head. “I’m not interested.”

  Now I understood why he only wanted to hook up with pretty women he met at the bar, why he was so uninterested in anything except meaningless sex, why he was a promiscuous playboy. He was a good man…until someone broke him. “The next one will be different—”

  “We had the perfect marriage. We were happy, from the day we met.” He dropped his sandwich and gave me a cold look. “I loved her more than anything in this world, would slit my own throat to make her happy, and I was living in a goddamn fairy tale. Even if I could have been unfaithful and never get caught, I never was—because there was no one in the world I wanted except her. So, if something that perfect, that special, could end up the way it did…” He shook his head. “Then it’s hopeless.”

  4

  Dex

  I spent the day with the residents at the hospital.

  We had surgical theaters that allowed the residents to view the procedures, and I would take one or two residents into the OR with me to assist with the operation. I rotated through different stude
nts, but I also didn’t take students I felt were unqualified at the time.

  That was my moral obligation.

  I was the number one advocate for the patient who was on the table, and if I didn’t feel one-hundred-percent confident with the resident, they were out.

  Teaching was exhausting and time-consuming, but every time I grew frustrated, I reminded myself how important it was to train every generation of doctors that came through. They could operate on friends and family someday—even me.

  When I finished with a procedure, I scrubbed out and left with Melanie, one of the best residents in the class. She asked me a couple questions as she untied her mask and disposed of it.

  I walked with her around the corner and saw Sicily there, typing an email on her phone as she waited for me to come out of the theater. After our conversation about my divorce, things were a bit awkward, but it eventually passed and we never spoke of it again. That distance between us started to fade, and we were back to our camaraderie.

  She was in black leggings with brown boots that went up her shins, along with a loose sweater that hung down on one shoulder, with a scarf wrapped around her neck. Her hair was curled but pulled back in a ponytail. I liked that she didn’t wear suits and pencil skirts all the time. I liked that she brought her own style to her professionalism, even though it was distracting at times.

  She looked up when she heard me talking to Melanie, and she immediately dropped her phone to give her full attention, the dark eye shadow over her lids giving her a sexy, smoky quality.

  I finished up with Melanie before I turned to Sicily. “You did great today. Excuse me…” I walked over to Sicily, my hands dry because I was scrubbing them all the time now. That was one thing I definitely hadn’t missed in my retirement—having cracked knuckles and dry fingers all the time. That was not a good quality to have when feeling up a woman’s tits.

  She smiled when I came close. “How’d it go?”