The Girl Who Doesn't Quit (Soulless Book 12)

by Victoria Quinn

  When she laid it out like that, it made absolute sense. The Hamiltons were unusual because they had altruistic attitudes about their professions. “I’m not like that.” I didn’t know what possessed me to say that, but it happened.

  “Uh, let’s back it up a sec. You came in here and said you’re smarter than me and I should get used to it. You may not have an eidetic memory, but I’m sure you remember that.”

  “I said that in anger. Didn’t mean it.”

  “Whatever. You were pretty arrogant when you walked in here.”

  “Because I’m an advocate for our patients, and I wasn’t sure if you were as well. Let’s not rewrite history here.”

  She gave me an annoyed look. “Okay, maybe you aren’t quite like that, but you’re one of the few.” She reached to the armchair beside her and grabbed her bag. She pulled out the folders and paperwork for her patients. “Want to be my sounding board for this?”

  “Sure.”

  “We got the approval for the trials.” Dr. Hamilton left his desk and walked over to me, extending the paper to me so I could take it.

  I leaned forward and took it in my hands to read. “Wow, that was fast.”

  “Well, they’re quick whenever I submit stuff.” He sat down behind his desk again, floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, his desk crowded with pictures of his family, along with a photo from his wedding day.

  He had a picture with Daisy, the two of them standing together in blue scrubs. It must have been taken during her residency. She looked nearly the same as she did now. She just had short bangs at the time.

  There were other pictures too, a lot of them taken by a lake.

  When I looked back at Dr. Hamilton, he was staring at me. “How many grandkids do you have?”

  “Five.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks. Being a grandfather has been a really rewarding experience.”

  I ignored the pictures and focused on him once again. “So, when do we—”

  His assistant spoke over his intercom. “Dr. Hamilton, your wife is here. Should I tell her to wait?”

  He hit his finger against the intercom. “Never.” He released the button.

  The doors opened a moment later, and Mrs. Hamilton walked inside, wearing a tight pencil skirt with a long-sleeved blouse tucked under her waistband. She had long brown hair, lighter in color than Dr. Hamilton’s. But he was right—she was in great shape. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  “Never, baby.” Once she was in the room, it was as if I wasn’t there.

  She leaned down and gave him a kiss before she set the files on his desk. “Just need a couple signatures and I’ll be out of your hair.”

  He grabbed his pen and started to sign, not reading whatever she gave him.

  She turned to me, having features similar to Daisy’s that I recognized right away. A wide smile moved on to her face, and she came over with her hand extended. “Mrs. Hamilton.”

  I stood up and shook her hand. “Dr. Beaumont. But call me Atlas.”

  “It’s lovely to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from my husband. He thinks you’re a bright young man.”

  “That’s quite the compliment coming from him.”

  “Very true, especially since it takes a lot to impress my husband.”

  Dr. Hamilton continued to sign the paperwork.

  “Daisy says good things as well.”

  “She does?” I asked with a smirk.

  “Well, she does now,” she said with a chuckle. “But she did take me to a dive bar to vent when things weren’t so great.”

  “I can totally see her doing that.”

  “Yes, she keeps me young. So, have plans for the Fourth of July?”

  Work. “Not sure yet. What about you?” She was instantly easy to talk to, reminding me of Daisy, who was fluent in easy conversation.

  “We’re taking a family trip to our lake house in Connecticut. The kids love the lake. We do some fishing, hiking, s’more-making, and of course, barbecue every day.”

  “That sounds fun.”

  “Why don’t you come along?” Dr. Hamilton didn’t raise his head when he spoke as he continued to add his signature.

  Mrs. Hamilton looked at him before she turned back to me. “That sounds like a great idea. We’d love to have you.”

  Put on the spot, I didn’t know what to say.

  Dr. Hamilton finished his signatures and set the pile of papers at the edge of his desk. He capped the pen then looked at me. “We expanded the property, so we have room if you’d like to stay for the weekend.”

  The weekend? Dr. Hamilton just invited me to his second home for the weekend. It was surreal. “Thank you for the offer. But I think—”

  “I think you should come.” Dr. Hamilton cut me off and stared me down. “Or find a new job.”

  Mrs. Hamilton smiled. “Looks like you’re coming, then.”

  Dr. Hamilton gave me a slight smile, telling me he was joking.

  I knew he would keep inviting me until I agreed to come to something, so I went with it. “I’ll come up for the day.”

  “Great,” Dr. Hamilton said. “I think we could all use a break from the office.”

  11

  Daisy

  Dad sat across from me at the table, looking down at the chessboard.

  I already knew my next five moves because I knew what his next five moves would be. But he guessed the exact same thing and tried to outsmart me further down the line. A single game of chess could take us hours, and sometimes it took so long that we didn’t even finish the game.

  He never let me win.

  That made my victories all that much sweeter and the pride in his eyes that much more potent.

  Dad finally settled on a move.

  Mom watched TV on the couch with her laptop on her lap, the sound down low so it wouldn’t bother us.

  Bear was on the floor at my dad’s feet, never leaving his side.

  I made my move.

  His eyes remained down, focused on the board. “Excited for this weekend?”

  “Yes. I worked eighty hours last week. I’m soooo ready to sit by the lake and eat a ton of s’mores.”

  “How are things at the clinic?”

  “Good. Atlas and I worked together on one of his patients. Found out he served in Vietnam at eighteen and, as a result, got soft tissue sarcoma. His memory was diminishing, and he was blacking out more and more often. Atlas was able to file the paperwork with the government to attempt to get his medical bills covered and get him disability for the rest of his life.”

  Dad studied the board before he made his move. “Atlas is a good man.”

  “Yeah, he’s not bad.”

  “I like him a great deal.”

  “Yes, you’ve mentioned that.” I’d anticipated his move, so I quickly made mine.

  He lifted his dark eyes and looked at me. “He’s half my age but keeps up with me. And his heart is always in the right place.”

  “I agree.” I used to bounce ideas off all my colleagues, but now I went to Atlas more often than anyone else. Without using the Network program, he had answers, could figure things out quicker than any other diagnostician I’d ever met. His brilliance was remarkable, and once I could see all his good qualities, I didn’t mind working for him. “He’s a good fit for the clinic. I understand why Dylan hired him.”

  Dad stilled as he watched me, his hand reaching for his chess piece. “I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart.”

  “I was just being a brat.”

  He smiled as he moved his piece. “You aren’t a brat, sweetheart. You just have opinions and aren’t afraid to voice them. I would never change that about you. I never have to worry about someone taking advantage of you because you would never allow it to happen.”

  “Damn right.” I moved my piece immediately.

  He smirked. “I know what you’re doing.” He threw me a curve ball and made a completely different move.

  Totally
upended my plan.

  I shot him a glare before I responded, moving my chess piece. “Damn.”

  Back and forth we went, making our moves, trying to outsmart the other.

  Dad studied the board. “Atlas is about your age.”

  “I’m not sure how old he is.”

  “Just a couple years older.”

  “Yes, it’s nice having a colleague close in age at the clinic.”

  He nodded. “He’s a very handsome man…”

  My eyes immediately flicked up.

  “Bright. Dedicated. Kind. Has a lot of good qualities…”

  My eyes remained glued to his face, my eyebrow arched. “Uh-huh…”

  “Maybe you should…consider him as an option.”

  Now, both of my eyebrows were arched, and I stared at him incredulously. “You can’t be serious. Is this really happening right now? Dad, are you trying to set me up with…a guy? You? The man who avoids my love life like the plague?”

  He kept his gaze down, like he didn’t know what to say.

  “He’s not my type.”

  Dad moved his piece and let the silence linger.

  I thought the conversation was over, so I continued the game.

  But apparently it wasn’t because Dad sighed and met my gaze, the game officially abandoned. “Why not?”

  “Why not what?”

  “Why is he not your type?”

  I turned to look at Mom, seeing the back of her head over the couch. “Are you listening to this?”

  She didn’t turn around. “I’m just as curious to know your answer, honey.”

  I turned back to my dad, still in shock. “This is so weird. You’ve never asked me anything like this before—”

  “I’ll stop if you’re uncomfortable, sweetheart. I just…don’t want you to dismiss him because you didn’t get along when you first met. I’ve known him for about two years, and he’s a respectful, good-hearted man who’s available.”

  My eyes narrowed. “You actually asked him that?”

  “We’re friends. We talk about things.”

  The game was forgotten, so now we just looked at each other across the table. “Like I said, he’s not my type.”

  “Why?”

  Mom spoke from the couch. “He’s a really good-looking guy…”

  “Mom.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Why?” Dad pressed.

  “I just go for a different kind of guy, that’s all,” I said with a shrug.

  Mom spoke again. “He’s hot. Smart. Successful. Girl, what more do you want?”

  “Mom!” I covered my face in humiliation. “I can’t believe this is happening right now.”

  Dad continued to watch me, as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know what to say. “I admit this is awkward, but…I’d just like you to consider him. You’re a very special person, Daisy. I want you to be with someone special. Not someone who’s…ordinary. Not someone who stands you up when he agreed to meet your parents. Not someone who doesn’t keep his promises. Not someone who gets his ass handed to him in a bar by a man twice his age.”

  I dropped my gaze, embarrassed that this was being brought up again. It had been mortifying enough when it happened in the first place.

  “You’re so smart. You need someone who challenges you. You need someone who pushes you. You need someone who shares your values. There’s no rush to settle down or find a husband, but…he’s special like you. I would hate for you to lose your chance because of an old grudge.”

  “I’ve heard your suggestion.”

  “So, you’ll consider it?” he asked.

  “This feels like Bridgerton right now.”

  “Bridgerton?” he asked.

  “Ooh, I loved that show,” Mom said from the couch. “Simon is dreamy.”

  Dad turned to her, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.

  She waved her hand at him. “But not nearly as dreamy as you, babe.”

  “I feel like I’m being set up in the 1800s,” I said. “You’re finding me a partner to marry. It’s archaic.”

  Dad shook his head slightly. “When you marry someone, you marry their family. I can’t pretend I don’t have a vested interest in the person you decide to spend your life with. I’m very lucky that I’ve gotten two daughters I absolutely love. I want a son I feel that way about too. And…I like Atlas. He has all the qualities that make you two compatible.”

  “I really, really hope that you haven’t said any of this crap to him.” God, that would be so humiliating.

  “No. I would never encourage him to make something happen, not unless I knew you liked him first. Daisy, you’re the most incredible woman in the world. You’re the one who gets to decide who you want. He doesn’t.”

  Atlas stepped into my office. “After three rejections, I finally got the government to honor his disability claim. The guy served in Vietnam and has to spend the rest of his life with these crippling medical problems—and that’s not enough to grant disability? I have to go down there and yell at people for him?” He stopped at my desk and tossed the rejection letters on the surface. “Three.”

  I ignored the letters he set in front of me and stared at his face. Stubble on his jawline. Dark eyes that matched his black shirt. Jeans on his narrow hips. Cords all over his muscular arms. He had a bit of a tan too, like he went for runs in the morning.

  He stared back, his expression slowly changing. “Yes?”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek as I looked at him, stopping myself from telling him what my father had said. My dad had thrown on some angel wings and got a bow and arrow and decided to play cupid. He was the man who’d given my prom date a hard time. “Good job. He deserves compensation. Honestly, he should sue for all his suffering.”

  “I suggested that, but he just wants the disability. Wants to put this behind him and focus on treatment. So, are you stumped?”

  “Sorry?”

  “You’re wearing the same expression you wear when you’re stumped.”

  “Oh, just thinking about a lot of stuff.”

  “You always think about a lot of stuff.” He turned around and headed back to the door. “Staff meeting is in one hour.”

  “Yeah, see you then.”

  He turned around at the door and glanced at me, looking like a sexy guy in a bar with a drink in his hand, not the director of one of the most prestigious clinics in the world, not a researcher who worked side by side with my father. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah. Just got a lot on my mind…”

  I packed my bags and carried them downstairs to the sidewalk.

  My dad got out of the Range Rover and came around to help me.

  Bear had his head out of the back window, his tongue hanging out with his tail wagging.

  “I can get my bags, Dad.”

  He pulled them out of my hands forcefully and carried them to the rear. “Bear is excited to see you.”

  I went to the window and scratched him behind the ears. “You’re my date this weekend, alright? We’re gonna snuggle under one blanket in front of the fire, share s’mores, get some sun. It’s gonna be so romantic.”

  As if he understood, Bear gave a bark.

  Mom was in the passenger seat. “Bear isn’t going to share his s’mores.”

  I got into the seat next to Bear, and then we left the city. The traffic was already bad because everyone was leaving the city for their vacation homes in the Hamptons and elsewhere. Bear sat next to the other window behind my dad so he could stick his head out.

  Dad would check the rearview mirror often, not to look at me, but to look at his dog.

  He was obsessed with the dog.

  His hand was on the center console, holding my mom’s hand, his thumb gently brushing over her wedding ring.

  “How was work this week?” Mom asked.

  “Same ol’, same ol’. What about you?”

  “One of my clients had the President of the United States in his residence, so every single client i
n the building had to hand over their information to get clearance. First time that’s ever happened.”

  “Whoa, did you meet him?”

  “No. But I was in the room with him.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “The clients were pretty annoyed they had to give up their information, even if it was to the Secret Service. The building is their home. It’s not a hotel. I understood their irritation, and they asked me to prevent it, but there was nothing I could do.”

  Dad kept one hand on the steering wheel. “By asking everyone to provide that information, they’re basically announcing to everyone that he’s coming, so that seems counterproductive.”

  “How are things at work, Dad?”

  Dad looked at me in the rearview mirror. “Well. Our research was approved for clinical trials, so we’ll be starting that after the holiday.”

  “That’s great. What exactly is your research?”

  “The regrowth of damaged alveoli and other tissues in the lungs. It’s designed for COPD patients who are lifelong smokers. By removing damaged tissue and restoring healthy tissue, it will not only cure COPD but also significantly lower their chance of developing cancer.”

  It took me a second to digest all of that. “Wow…that’s amazing.”

  “We’ve had success with mice, and Dr. Beaumont thinks that if we’re successful in humans, it could give us a better understanding of cancer cells and healthy cells, and perhaps turn cancerous cells into healthy ones. I agree.”

  “You talk about it so nonchalantly, but this is a pretty big deal.”