Chapter 8 #2
Evie wanted to reach across that space. To take Maggie’s hand. To tell her that not everyone would betray her, that not every risk ended in disaster, that sometimes the only way through fear was to walk straight into it.
But she didn’t.
Because Maggie wasn’t ready to hear it yet.
Instead, Evie said, “I won’t lie to them.”
Maggie’s head snapped up. “Evie—”
“But,” Evie continued, “I won’t volunteer information they don’t ask for either.
If they ask me directly whether we’ve been intimate, I’ll tell the truth.
But if they ask about mentorship and professional boundaries, I’ll answer honestly about that too—that you’ve been nothing but professional in your teaching. ”
Maggie studied her. “That’s a very fine line.”
“It’s the only line I can walk and still look at myself in the mirror,” Evie said. “I’m not ashamed of what happened between us, Maggie. I won’t pretend I am.”
“Even if it costs you?”
“Even then.”
Maggie closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. “You’re going to make this very difficult. I don’t know why you’re still trying with me.”
Evie ignored the last part. “Good,” she said. “You need difficult. You’ve been doing easy for fifteen years and look where it’s gotten you.”
That pulled a real laugh from Maggie—short, surprised. “God, you’re infuriating.”
“So I’ve been told.”
The tension in the room shifted—not gone, but softer. Manageable.
Evie stood. “I should go. I have rounds in ten minutes.”
“Evie.”
She stopped at the door.
“Thank you,” Maggie said quietly. “For... understanding. Or trying to, anyway.”
Evie turned back. “For what it’s worth? I think you’re brave. I think you survived something horrific and came out the other side still believing in medicine. That’s not weakness. That’s strength. And I like that about you, amongst other things.”
Maggie’s eyes shimmered. “It doesn’t feel like strength.”
“It never does,” Evie said. “Not when you’re in it.”
She left before Maggie could respond, closing the door softly behind her.
That evening, Evie sat in Daisy Carter’s room.
Kara had gone to get coffee, leaving Evie alone with the patient who had somehow become the thread connecting everything—Maggie’s fear, Evie’s compassion, the impossible space between what was right and what was safe.
Daisy was sleeping, her breathing shallow but steady. The monitors beeped their familiar rhythm. Unremarkable. For now.
Evie reached out and adjusted the blanket over Daisy’s thin shoulders.
“You know what I think?” Evie said quietly, even though Daisy couldn’t hear her. “I think she’s terrified of losing me the way she lost Sarah. Not to death, but to consequences. To the system. To her own fear.”
Daisy’s chest rose and fell.
“And maybe she’s right to be scared,” Evie continued. “Maybe this does end badly. Maybe they fire her. Maybe they transfer me. Maybe we both lose everything we’ve worked for.”
She sat back in the chair.
“But what’s the alternative? Spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been? Pretend I don’t feel what I feel because it’s inconvenient? Because it’s risky?”
The words hung in the quiet room.
“My mom used to say that the safest life is the smallest life,” Evie said. “She died of a heart attack at fifty-two. Worked herself to death at a job she hated because it was stable. Secure. Safe.”
She looked at Daisy’s peaceful face.
“I don’t want that,” Evie whispered. “I don’t want to be safe. I want to be alive. Even if it hurts. Especially if it hurts. Because at least then I’ll know I tried.”
The door opened.
Evie looked up, expecting Kara.
It was Maggie.
She stood in the doorway, still in her white coat, exhaustion written into every line of her body. “I thought I might find you here.”
Evie straightened. “Is everything okay?”
“Daisy’s labs came back. Renal function is worsening. I wanted to discuss options before we talk to Kara tomorrow.”
Professional. Clinical. Safe.
But there was something else in Maggie’s eyes—something that said she’d heard what Evie had said to Daisy. Or maybe she’d just felt it, the way two people sometimes did when the space between them held more weight than distance.
“Okay then,” Evie said. “Let’s talk.”
They reviewed the labs together, side by side at the small desk in the corner. Their shoulders nearly touched. Neither moved away.
And when Maggie’s hand brushed Evie’s while reaching for the chart, she didn’t pull back immediately.
It was barely a second.
But it was enough.
Enough for Evie to know that whatever Maggie said about boundaries and safety, the truth was messier. More complicated. More human.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Maggie said finally, standing.
“Tomorrow,” Evie agreed.
Maggie paused at the door. “Evie?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re wrong, you know. About me being brave.”
Evie smiled softly. “No, I’m not.”
Maggie left without answering.
But as Evie gathered her things and headed home through the quiet hospital corridors, she felt something settle in her chest. Not certainty. Not safety.
Purpose.
She didn’t know how this would end. Didn’t know if Maggie would ever be able to risk what Evie was offering. Didn’t know if they’d survive the investigation or the scrutiny or the fear.
But she knew one thing with absolute clarity:
She wasn’t giving up.
Not on Maggie.
Not on this.
Not on the possibility that sometimes, the bravest thing you could do was refuse to let fear win.
Even when it would be so much easier to walk away.