@steadyhnds / hollis & addie.
hollis swears she can feel the moment that her mother stepped back into the hospital. something sharp sliding through the air, her spine straightening at that addison westbrook feeling in the atmosphere. it's something she is far too familiar with and she isn't sure how it feels to have it back now. it's familiar — comforting almost, sharp edges and all because that's her mom. but at the same time, it's suffocating — pressing down on her lungs until it hurts to breathe because that's her mom and they haven't seen each other since they buried her father. the workplace isn't exactly an ideal reunion site.
it doesn't take long for their paths to cross — ortho and trauma are hand in hand most days. she isn't entirely sure what she was expecting but addison looks exactly the same as she always has — composed, collected, immaculate... it's almost as if the last few months haven't happened at all if it weren't for the henry westbrook shaped hole in both of their hearts. she watches her carefully as her mother consults with their patient, a surgical plan put into place before they find themselves in the hallway together, alone. her hands hover uselessly at her sides, unsure if she should reach out for the woman or not before shoving them into her scrub pockets. "hey," it sounds stupid even to her and hollis resists the urge to cringe. "i didn't know you were back in new york. i would have called... we could have gotten together... before now."
