She stepped closer—not threatening, but unmistakably senior. “I don’t mind you questioning me,” Maggie added quietly. “But remember who has the experience here. This isn’t my first rodeo.”
Evie looked away, jaw clenched, shame and anger warring visibly across her face.
Maggie watched her, a familiar ache pressing at the base of her sternum.
Focus,she told herself.
This was teaching.
This was necessary.
Even if part of her already knew the cost.
In the conference room later, Evie stood at the whiteboard, marker uncapped, posture squared but alert.
“Given the persistent hypotension and negative initial cultures,” Evie said, “I’m concerned about an occult source. Line infection is possible, but I’d also want to rule out endocarditis—especially with her cardiac history. A TEE might be warranted if she can tolerate it.”
She didn’t rush. She didn’t hedge.
Maggie listened without interrupting, arms crossed loosely, gaze fixed on Evie’s notes. The differential was sharp—thorough without being scattered. Exactly what Maggie would have expected from someone who saw patterns instead of just problems.
When Evie finished, she capped the marker and turned.
Maggie nodded once. “Good.”
Evie exhaled, tension easing slightly.
“I know you care,” Maggie added. “Just don’t let it blind you.”
Evie studied her for a moment. “I won’t.”
Then, quieter, more tentative, “You’re not as cold as they say, you know.”
The words landed closer than Evie probably intended.
Maggie felt the impact anyway.
Before she could respond, her pager buzzed against her hip—sharp, insistent. She glanced down automatically.
MEDICAL REVIEW COMMITTEE
REQUEST FOR ATTENDING STATEMENT
The air in the room shifted.
Maggie’s jaw tightened. Her spine straightened. Years of practiced control snapped into place even as something inside her recoiled.
Evie noticed immediately.
“What is it?” she asked.
Maggie locked her expression down. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
Evie frowned. “That’s not an answer.”
“That’s my answer. Sometimes you really don’t know when to stop, do you?” Maggie said, voice clipped.
Evie hesitated, clearly torn between instinct and restraint. Then, softly, “Doctor Laurel?—”
