Fire And Frost – Emily Hayes

She stepped closer, just enough that she could smell the floral scent of Nia. “Can’t help it,” she said quietly. “You make me nervous.” That earned a startled blink. “I do not.” “You do.” Soren smiled, not teasing this time. “You walk in looking like the most beautiful woman in the world, and I’m standing here covered in grease. Of course I’m nervous.” Nia’s lips parted, a retort half-formed, but it never came.

For a long moment they just stood there, the hum of the pipes filling the silence. “You’re staying here now?” she asked finally, gesturing toward the hall. “Ellis figured it’s safer than me driving home every night. Said he’d comp me a room until the storm breaks.” “I see.” The words were neutral, but her eyes betrayed her—something quick and conflicted flickering behind the calm.

Soren watched her a moment longer, then nodded toward the repaired panel. “Heat’s good now. Shouldn’t knock anymore.” “Thank you.” “Anytime, Doc.” Nia turned toward the door, pausing halfway. “Try to get some sleep.” “You too,” Soren said, voice softer now. She waited until Nia’s footsteps faded down the corridor before she let out a long breath and ran a hand through her hair.

Not a coincidence. Not even close. Soren grinned to herself, shaking her head as she turned back to her tools. “Guess this job just got a whole lot more interesting.” Steam curled out from the bathroom in lazy ribbons as Soren toweled off, the quiet hum of the storm pressing close around the lodge. The hot shower had done its job—her muscles had finally unclenched after a day of battling frozen pipes—but her head was still buzzing. No matter how she tried to settle, her mind kept circling back to Nia.

That last look in the hallway. The careful mask she’d put back on. The way she’d stood too close before walking away.

he operating room felt like a chapel to Nia South—bright, spare, full of quiet expectation. Light washed across steel, monitors hummed in steady rhythm, and a circle of masked faces waited for her cue. She lifted her hands to the sterile field and felt the familiar click as a scrub nurse settled the scalpel into her palm.

“Ready,” Nia said. Her voice was calm, cool water over smooth stones. “Let’s begin.” The pediatric patient’s chart was tucked into the back of her mind like a hymn she’d memorized—age six, tumor abutting critical pathways, delicate margins. She had flown in for this case because no one else within two hundred miles had the steady hands and ruthless focus the neurosurgical team wanted.

That was what she did best: make impossible problems solvable. Cut clean. Leave no mess. “Retraction,” she murmured. “Suction. Good.” The scrub tech moved with her as if they’d practiced together for years. They hadn’t. It didn’t matter. In the OR, Nia made a new orchestra every time and still expected symphony. Her green eyes tracked tiny movements.

Her dark hair, braided and pinned, tugged faintly at her scalp under the cap. Her shoulders were straight inside the lead apron, posture perfect, a portrait of control. She kept her attention where it belonged—on pathways, on vessels, on breath and pulse and the quiet curve of the saw’s edge. The tumor’s texture told her what the imaging had only suggested. She adjusted her plan by half a millimeter and felt the room lean toward her choice like iron to a magnet.

“Clamp. Thank you. And… pause,” she said softly. The pleural wave on the monitor dipped and rose. The anesthesiologist gave her a nod. Steady. Nia let air out slowly and stepped into the final, dangerous angle. She didn’t think about the storm gathering outside the hospital windows or the text message she still hadn’t read. She didn’t let her mind flash to a sunlit kitchen in Phoenix Ridge where a woman (her wife) with glossy hair and a flawless suit jacket had said, I didn’t mean to fall in love with her, Nia.

Not here. Not now. The tumor let go like a stubborn knot loosening. A bead of sweat slid down Nia’s temple and caught on her mask. The suction cleared the field. The tiny space looked clean and safe. Her shoulders lowered a half inch. “Gross total resection,” she said, quiet satisfaction threading through her tone. “Let’s close.” The team moved into the practiced choreography of finishing well. Nia’s movements stayed spare and elegant, her hands speaking for her. When the final suture tied, the monitors still steady, she let herself look up.

Around the table, eyes crinkled with relief. Someone exhaled audibly. The charge nurse’s gaze warmed. “Beautiful work, Dr. South.”

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: 2f47eacc2e995326
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 666,670 bytes (0.636 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 87
• Language: English (en)

Reading & Word Statistics

• Estimated Reading Time: 124.45 minutes
• Total Words: 24,891
• Total Characters: 144,644
• Average Words per Page: 286.1
• Average Characters per Page: 1662.57

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