She waited until the door closed behind Booth before she spoke. “You want to tell me why you ran that meeting like you were checking off a grocery list?”
I didn’t answer. I moved back to my desk and reached for the binder on the top shelf.
She followed. Her voice didn’t change. “Sloane.”
I placed the binder on the desk and flipped it open.
She looked down and read the title:Policy Manual, Player Health and Performance.
“You’re not doing this,” she said, quieter now.
I didn’t respond. I turned to the page I already knew by heart. I didn’t need to look. I needed her to see it.
Page 12, Subsection B.No employee in the Performance or Medical department may pursue a personal relationship with an active rostered player.
I stared at the text, my pulse racing as Ivy sucked in a breath. She reached out and squeezed my forearm, and I met her gaze. Understanding reflected back, and there wasn’t any judgement. The relief was instant.
If she hated me for having a relationship with him, I’d never forgive myself.
“Sloane…it’s mutual. I’ve seen how he is with you. I’ve known him since college, and he’s one of my oldest friends. There is always gray area when you work so closely with the team. This?—"
“He has SVT, Ivy. If it confirms, if this escalates, he’s high-risk, and I’m too close,” I interrupted her, letting my guard down and showing honesty. It felt wrong to admit the truth. I was supposed to be strong, consistent, not… vulnerable.
“You haven’t shown bias toward him. You’ve been consistent and damn good at your job, Sloane. What is this second-guessing?” Ivy frowned and shut the manual. She stacked it with my other folders.
“I wrote the report on his episode like he was a stranger, like I didn’t know him or his struggles or what he goes through every night.” I pinched my nose, my voice cracking.
“And it was clean. Thorough. William said the same. Why are you questioning yourself?”
“I don’t know how to do both,” I admitted, hating how weak I sounded. I needed to be the best here, so they respected me and I had a home. I couldn’t show this insecure version when I was getting respect. “I don’t know how to be his person and his lead. I don’t know how to sit across from him in an exam room and pretend I’m not afraid of what happens if I lose both.”
She didn’t speak right away. Then she sat down across from me, resting her elbows on her knees. “You’ve already been doing both. You’ve been making impossible calls and doing it without bias. You care for him, but you still held the line. You’re going to continue to hold the line.”
My chest tightened. She said it so easily, but yes, I did care for him. But that wasn’t enough. Caring for someone didn’t mean anything. I’d learned that the hard way with my parents, brother, and any other casual person in my life.
“The only difference now,” Ivy continued, “is that the rest of them are watching. And you don’t trust that they’ll let you keep doing your job.”
I didn’t trust that at all.
“I have to go prep the neuro screening,” I said, standing even though my legs felt stiff and unsteady.
“Let me take your 10:30,” Ivy offered. “Give yourself breathing room.”
“I can handle it.”
She gave me a look. “Okay. I care about both of you, and I’m worried about you, Sloane. We’ll talk soon.”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I turned toward my desk and opened my tablet. The screen lit up with Oliver’s chart. I clicked past it and opened a blank document. I typed one title.
Resignation Draft.
The blinking cursor stared back at me.
I didn’t write anything.
But I sat there, staring at the screen, wondering if this was the moment I finally stopped trying to be two versions of myself at once because this wasn’t sustainable.
I didn’t get to be Doctor Mercer and Oliver’s girlfriend.
