Chapter 14
EVIE
She’d slipped out of bed while Maggie was still sleeping, pressing a kiss to her temple and whispering, “You’ve got this,” before heading out into the pre-dawn darkness.
Now, sitting in morning report with Dr. Patel, Evie could barely focus on the overnight admissions. Her phone was face-down on her lap, but she kept glancing at it, waiting for Maggie to text that she’d made it to the hospital.
“Doctor Brooks?”
Evie’s head snapped up. “Yes, Doctor Patel?”
“I asked if you wanted to present the Patterson case or if you’d prefer I assign it to Doctor Morrison.”
“I’ll present,” Evie said quickly. “Sorry. I’m here.”
Patel studied her for a moment, something knowing in her expression. “You seem... rather distracted this morning.”
“Just a lot on my mind,” Evie said, which wasn’t a lie.
“Understandable,” Patel said, and there was something gentle in her tone that made Evie wonder if she knew. “Well, try to focus. We’ve got a full day.”
Her phone buzzed. It was Maggie. She had just pulled in.
Evie set her phone down, feeling slightly steadier. Maggie was back at Oakridge. And Evie would have to see her and pretend that her heart wasn’t doing backflips every time Maggie entered a room.
Six months of this.
They could do six months.
“Alright,” Patel said, standing. “Let’s round.”
Evie saw Maggie for the first time just before noon.
She was walking through the atrium with her tablet, reviewing a patient chart, when she felt that familiar pull—the awareness of Maggie’s presence before she even looked up.
And there she was. She could feel the pull towards her like a magnet from her soul.
Across the wide space, walking with Dr. Chen. White coat crisp and perfect hair pulled back, posture straight. Every inch the senior attending who commanded respect without raising her voice.
But Evie could see the tension in her shoulders. The way her jaw was set just slightly too tight. The careful way she held herself, like she was waiting for someone to question her right to be there.
Their eyes met.
For half a second, the world narrowed to just that—Maggie’s dark alluring eyes finding hers across fifty feet of hospital atrium, everything else fading to background noise.
Evie’s heart kicked against her ribs.
She wanted to smile. Wanted to walk over. Wanted to touch her, even just a hand on her arm, a reminder that she wasn’t alone in this.
Instead, she gave the smallest nod.
Maggie returned it, equally subtle.
Then they both looked away, continuing in opposite directions like two people who barely knew each other.
Evie’s chest ached.
This was going to be harder than she’d thought.
The elevator encounter happened an hour later.
Evie was heading up to the ICU to check on a transfer when the doors opened on the third floor and Maggie stepped in.
Along with two nurses and another attending Evie didn’t know well.
They all shifted to make room, and suddenly Evie was standing three feet from Maggie in a confined space, very deliberately not looking at her.
“Doctor Laurel,” one of the nurses said warmly. “Good to have you back.”
“Thank you, Sarah,” Maggie replied, her voice perfectly controlled. “Good to be back.”
“How was your time off?” the other attending asked.
“Productive,” Maggie said. “Got caught up on some reading. Completed a training.”
There was an uncomfortable pause—everyone knew why she’d been on leave, even if no one was saying it directly.
Evie stared at the floor numbers ticking upward, hyperaware of Maggie’s presence. The faint scent of her soap. The sound of her breathing. The way her fingers drummed once against her tablet—a nervous tell Evie had learned to recognize.
The elevator stopped on five. The nurses got off.
Then six. The attending.
Which left Evie and Maggie alone for the final two floors.
The doors closed.
Neither of them moved.
“Hi,” Maggie said quietly.
“Hi,” Evie replied, still facing forward.
“This is awful. I miss you,” Maggie admitted.
“Completely terrible,” Evie agreed.
“I want to kiss you.”
“Maggie—”
“I know. I won’t. But I want to.”
Evie finally turned to look at her. Maggie was staring straight ahead at the doors, jaw tight, hands gripping her tablet like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.
“Me too,” Evie said softly. “But we can do this. One day at a time.”
The elevator chimed. Seventh floor.
“See you at home?” Maggie asked.
“I’ll be there by seven,” Evie promised.
The doors opened. Maggie stepped out without looking back.
Evie rode up one more floor, then leaned against the wall and let herself breathe.
One day down. One hundred and eighty-two to go.
It was Morrison who finally broke the tension later that afternoon.
“Hey Brooks,” he said as they walked between patient rooms. “I heard Laurel’s back today.”
Evie’s jaw tightened. “She is.”
“That’s gonna be weird for you, right?”
“Why would it be weird?” Evie kept her voice neutral, professional.
Morrison shrugged. “I don’t know. Just... you were on her service. Then the transfer. The suspension. People are gonna be watching to see how you two interact.”
“Then people need to find better things to do with their time,” Evie said flatly.
Morrison held up his hands. “Hey, I’m just saying—”
“Well, don’t,” Evie interrupted. “Doctor Laurel is an excellent physician. I learned a lot from her. That’s all anyone needs to know.”
She walked away before he could respond, heart pounding.
That night, when Evie finally made it to Maggie’s apartment, she was starting to think of it—Maggie was already there, sitting on the couch with a glass of wine she hadn’t touched.
“Hey,” Evie said, dropping her bag by the door.
Maggie looked up, and the relief on her face was almost painful to see. “Hey.”
Evie crossed to her immediately, no hesitation, no distance. She climbed into Maggie’s lap, straddling her, and kissed her like they’d been apart for weeks instead of hours.
Maggie’s hands came up to her waist, pulling her closer, kissing her back with something close to desperation.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Maggie rested her forehead against Evie’s.
“I hated that,” Maggie said. “Every second of it.”
“I know,” Evie said. “Me too.”
“It felt unbearable. Seeing you in that elevator and not being able to touch you—”
“I know.”
“This is going to be—”
“I know,” Evie said again, cupping Maggie’s face. “But we’re here now. And for the next twelve hours, you’re mine. No hospital. No distance. Just us.”
Maggie’s eyes closed. “I don’t know if I can do this for six months. Six fucking months.”
“Yes, you can,” Evie said firmly. “Because the alternative is not having this at all. And that’s not an option. The damage is done. We’re already in love.”
Maggie opened her eyes, searching Evie’s face. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure,” Evie said. “Are you?”
“Yes,” Maggie said without hesitation. “God, yes.”
“Then we do the hard thing,” Evie said. “We survive the days at the hospital, and we come home to each other at night. And in six months, we get to have both.”
Maggie nodded slowly, something settling in her expression. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Evie echoed.
They ordered Thai food and ate on the couch, legs tangled together, talking about everything except the hospital. It felt like a small rebellion—claiming this space as theirs, separate from the professional distance they’d have to maintain everywhere else.
Later, in bed, Maggie held her close and whispered, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For making this bearable.”
Evie pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Always.”
They fell asleep like that, wrapped around each other, choosing closeness over the distance the world was trying to force between them.
The pager went off in the middle of the night.
Evie bolted awake, fumbling for it on the nightstand. The number was from Oakridge—the palliative care floor.
Her heart sank.
Daisy.
“I have to go,” she said, already climbing out of bed.
Maggie was awake too, sitting up. “What is it?”
“It’s Daisy,” Evie said, pulling on clothes in the dark. “She’s—I think it’s time.”
Maggie threw off the covers. “I’m coming with you.”
“Maggie, you can’t—”
“I’m not going to the hospital,” Maggie said, already moving. “But I’m driving you. You’re not doing this alone.”
Evie didn’t argue.
They made the drive in silence, Maggie’s hand finding hers across the console. When they pulled up to the hospital entrance, Maggie squeezed her fingers once.
“Go,” Maggie said. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”
“You don’t have to wait—”
“I know,” Maggie said. “Go.”
Evie leaned across and kissed her—quick but fierce—then ran inside.
The palliative care floor was quiet at 2 AM, the lights dimmed, the usual hospital noise muted to something almost peaceful.
Daisy’s room was at the end of the hall.
Kara was already there, sitting beside the bed, holding her mother’s hand. She looked up when Evie entered, eyes red but dry—like she’d cried herself out hours ago.
“Doctor Brooks,” Kara said, her voice hoarse. “Thank you for coming.”
Evie crossed to the other side of the bed, taking in Daisy’s condition with a clinical eye even as her heart twisted. Breathing shallow and irregular. Skin pale, almost translucent. Blood pressure barely registering on the monitor.
This was it. She knew what was next.
“How long has she been like this?” Evie asked gently.
“A few hours,” Kara said. “She was restless earlier. Asking for you. For Doctor Laurel.”
Evie’s throat tightened. “I’m here now.”
She reached out, taking Daisy’s other hand. The skin was cool, papery thin. But Daisy’s eyes fluttered open at the touch, focusing with visible effort.
“Doctor Brooks,” Daisy whispered, so quiet Evie had to lean in to hear.
“I’m here, Daisy,” Evie said. “I’m right here.”
“Maggie?”
“She’s—” Evie swallowed. “She wanted to be here. But she can’t. I’m sorry.”
Daisy’s lips curved faintly. Not quite a smile, but close. “Tell her... thank you. For everything. I liked her.”
“I will.”