Page 32 of Sweet Heart

“Yes, Chief,” the girl offers softly, and her eyes lower to the floor.

“Good. Back to work.”

“Yes, Chief.”

She turns and speeds out of the office, muttering under her breath.

“Fucking ice queen.”

I blink, wondering if I heard her correctly. Was she really that bold? I know that the staff talks about me behind my back. Carmen told me the nicknames. Doctor No-You-Can’t, the Ice Queen, Laser Eyes. I’ve heard them all. It doesn’t bother me because I also have a reputation as the best trauma surgeon on the East Coast. I am not here to be liked. I am here to save lives.

But today it feels different. It’s pressing on an already open wound. I was bringing you coffee. That is all it was. She had thought of me that morning, decided to get me a cup, and walked it over to the hospital, trying to connect. Dios, you are an idiot.

I fish my phone out of my pocket, and my heart skips a beat when I see that there is a new message. It sinks again when I realize it’s from Carmen. Three days and still no response. Even though I reached out. She just left me unread.

The muscle in my jaw ticks, and I smack the phone down onto my desk. It catches the corner, and I hear a crack. I don’t have to turn the device around to know that the screen is splintered into a cobweb.

“¡Joder!” I hiss and run my hand over my face. “¡Coño, carajo!”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. This is getting ridiculous. I just chewed out a resident for being unfocused while I’m thinking about a woman who was barely part of my life. I sigh.

Even though I know better, I turn my phone around again. No new messages. Just cracks.

***

“Come on, Kitty Cat. Please join me?”

“I said no, Carmen. What part of that don’t you understand?”

“But—”

“No. Now get out. I have work to do.”

I don’t even look at my best friend. She’s been pestering me for drinks ever since I lost Maisy, as if it’s some kind of magical fix. A bandage you can stick over the wound to stop the hurt from seeping out. That’s not why, and you know it. I grind my teeth before I finally raise my head. Carmen is standing in front of the desk, her eyes trained on me.

“What?” I snap, but she doesn’t respond.

She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t smile. No. She just stands there, her face drained of all its usual warmth. I frown and feel a nauseating swirl in my lower abdomen. Cold seeps in, and the skin on my arms breaks out in goosebumps.

“What?” I try again, softer this time.

I’ve never seen her like this. She doesn’t usually care about my outbursts. I love her. She knows this. Does she? I hold her gaze, refusing to cave. I only said no to getting drinks.

“Carmen?” I prod now, unsure whether I should be worried about her or irritated because she isn’t answering me.

She lifts her chin slightly and drops her gaze over me. That act releases another wave of displeasure, and this time, I can’t help but shift a little in my seat. Carmen nods as if she has received some sort of confirmation. Her eyes are hard, emotionless.

“This needs to stop. Right now.”

“¿Cómo?” I blink, confused.

“This whole…” She gestures at me with her hands. “…wallowing in self-pity.”

“I am not wa—”

“You made a mistake, Katherina. It happens.”

The words aren’t meant to be soothing or encouraging. I snap my mouth shut and glare at her, squirming slightly.