That afternoon, Dr. Patel assigned Evie a complex case—a sixty-two-year-old man with multiple comorbidities presenting with altered mental status and fever of unknown origin.
“This one’s a puzzle,” Patel said, handing over the chart. “I’d like you to take lead. Present your differential at afternoon rounds.”
Evie dove into it, grateful for the distraction from grief and exhaustion. She spent two hours reviewing the patient’s history, examining him, correlating lab values with imaging results.
By the time afternoon rounds came, she had a working differential and a plan.
She stood at the whiteboard, marker in hand, and walked the team through her thinking—the subtle findings that pointed away from simple sepsis, the medication interactions thatcould explain the altered mental status, the underlying chronic condition that was probably being unmasked by acute illness.
“So I’m recommending we broaden our antibiotic coverage, start empiric treatment for possible endocarditis given his valve history, and get neurology involved for the persistent confusion,” Evie concluded. “I’ve already put in the consults.”
Patel nodded thoughtfully. “Excellent analysis, Doctor Brooks. I agree with your assessment. Anyone have questions or additional thoughts?”
The other residents shook their heads, looking mildly impressed.
“Alright,” Patel said. “Brooks, keep me updated on the neuro consult. Nice work.”
As the team dispersed, Evie caught Doctor Amin looking at her with something like respect.
“That was solid,” Amin said. “Really solid.”
“Thanks,” Evie said, surprised.
“I mean it. You’re good at this.”
Evie felt something settle in her chest. This was what mattered—not the gossip, not the speculation about her relationship with Maggie, but the work. The medicine. The patients.
She was good at this.
And she was going to prove it, day after day, until no one could question whether she’d earned her place.
15
MAGGIE
The first week back felt like learning to walk on a tightrope while everyone watched and waited for her to fall.
Maggie moved through Oakridge with careful precision—greeting colleagues with cautious warmth, reviewing cases with her usual thoroughness, maintaining exactly the right amount of distance from Evie Brooks in every public space.
It was exhausting.
Every time she saw Evie in the hallway, her body wanted to move toward her. Every time Evie presented a case in a conference room three doors down from where Maggie was teaching, she wanted to slip in and watch. Every time her phone buzzed with a text—Miss you, one more hour until home—she wanted to abandon professionalism entirely and just be with her.
Instead, she did her job. She mentored her residents. She built back the reputation she’d nearly lost.
And at night, she went home to Evie and remembered why it was all worth it.
“So, how was it today?” Evie asked on Friday evening, the end of Maggie’s first week back. They were curled on the couch, Evie’s head on Maggie’s shoulder, both of them still in their scrubs because neither had the energy to change yet.
“Surreal,” Maggie admitted. “I kept seeing you and having to pretend I wasn’t dying to talk to you. I wonder if it’ll get easier, but I’m not too sure. It feels kinda suffocating.”
“I know the feeling well.” Evie’s fingers traced patterns on Maggie’s arm. “Morrison cornered me after rounds that first day. Asked if it was ‘weird’ having you back.”
Maggie’s jaw locked. “What did you say?”
“That you’re an excellent physician and I learned a lot from you. Then I walked away before he could ask anything else.” Evie tilted her head to look up at her. “He’s fishing. Trying to get me to confirm something he can gossip about.”
“Let him fish,” Maggie said. “He won’t catch anything.”
