Page 5 of Wistful Whispers
Daniel exhales sharply. “It doesn’t change anything. How can we be sure we’ll win? Going through a lawsuit might be more than we can endure right now.”
“You’re right to weigh your options.” I tread carefully because I won’t ever make promises I can’t keep. “Medicine is complicated. Surgeons can argue sometimes, even when they do everything right, bad outcomes happen. My job is to prove Dr. Caldwell failed to uphold the standard of care.”
“Dr. Caldwell…” She winces, the mere mention of his name is like an open wound she’s still pressing down on. “He didn’t even seem sorry.”
I’ve done my research. He wouldn’t.
Over the past decade, I’ve gone up against doctors like him many times before—always men. They walk into a room expecting me to believe they’re godlike. Infallible. Hell, I get it. They’ve built entire careers on being revered.
None of it matters when I tear them apart. Reduce them to sniveling shells of their former self.
Ooooh. Now, I feel it—beneath the surface—the same hunger I always get when I’m about to dismantle someone brick by brick.
It’s the fuel driving me and my tank is full.
“He probably isn’t sorry,” I say simply. “Surgeons at his level rarely engage in self-reflection.”
Myra blinks rapidly and her lips press together.
Daniel shifts beside her. “There was another doctor in the room. A younger guy. He was the one who talked to us before the surgery and made it seem like…” He trails off, his free hand curls into a fist. “Like this would never happen.”
“Do you remember his name?” I’ll subpoena the records, of course. At the same time, it’s always helpful to get as much information as possible now.
“Dr. McGloughlin.” Myra’s eyes soften. “SeamusMcGloughlin. He wassokind.”
There’s something almost guilty in the way she says it, like she wants to be angry at him but isn’t sure she can be.
“He sat with Miranda before the surgery,” she continues as I type his name into Google. “Talked to her like she was a person, not just a patient. Told her she was a ‘superstar.’ She adored him.” Her voice breaks on the last word.
The search loads, and suddenly, I’m staring at him. He’s young. Younger than me, at least by a handful of years.
Overwhelmingly handsome in a way making my stomach twist and awakening something dormant deep inside of me.
Against my will, my pussy clenches and my clit begins to pulse.
Holy mother of God, Seamus McGloughlin exudes sex. The kind of man who makes my breath stutter.
He’s big—broad shoulders and strong arms. A body built for capability. For endurance. Light-brown hair falls past his shoulders. It looks like it’s been raked through a thousand times by impatient fingers. Stubble frames a too-perfect mouth.
Good God, his eyes stop me cold.
Blue. Deep. Soulful.
The kind of eyes you want to trust. Eyes that make you believe you’re safe. That promise he’ll fix whatever’s broken.
There’s something else. Behind the warmth, the strength. A sadness, maybe. A weight he carries, hidden beneath the surface…
Oh. Hell. No. These thoughts are wildly inappropriate.
I force my gaze back to Myra and Daniel, ignoring the way my pulse is suddenly in my ears. “He was in the operating room?”
Daniel nods, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. I don’t know if he helped or if he was another part of the lie.”
I flick my gaze back to his face on the screen—strong, striking, capable.
For the first time in my career, I yearn for something entirely off-limits. Something impossible.
I do my best to keep my composure. “Dr. McGloughlin is a resident. He wouldn’t have been the one making the final decisions.”
