Chapter 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.”
“Six months minus one week to go,” Evie said softly.
Maggie pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “We can do that, surely,”
“Can we though?” Evie shifted to face her more fully. “Because today sucked. Watching you walk past me in the atrium like we barely know each other. Sitting in separate conferences. Not being able to grab coffee or debrief a difficult case or just... exist near you.”
“I know,” Maggie said. “But the alternative—”
“I know,” Evie interrupted. “I’m not saying I want to quit. I’m just saying it sucks.”
“It really does,” Maggie agreed.
They sat in the quiet for a moment, the weight of separation still clinging to them despite being home.
“My mom called today,” Evie said eventually. “She wants me to come home for Thanksgiving. Four days in Sacramento.”
Maggie felt something twist in her chest—immediate, irrational panic. Don’t leave me.
But what she said was: “That sounds good. You should go.”
Evie studied her face. “You could come with me.”
“Evie—”
“I know,” Evie said quickly. “I know we’re supposed to be careful. But it’s Thanksgiving. And my mom really wants to meet you. I’ve told her about you.”
Maggie’s breath caught. “You have?”
“Of course I have.” Evie smiled softly. “She knows I’m seeing someone. She knows it’s complicated. She knows I’m happy. She wants to meet the woman who makes me smile when I’m on the phone.”
The tenderness in those words made Maggie’s throat tight.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Maggie said carefully. “Not yet. Not while we’re still under restriction.”
She watched disappointment flicker across Evie’s face before she masked it.
“Oh, okay,” Evie said. “Then I’ll go alone.”
“I want you to go,” Maggie said, even though every instinct was screaming at her to ask Evie to stay. “Spend time with your family. I’ll be fine.”
“Will you?” Evie challenged gently. “Or will you spend four days alone in this apartment spiraling?”
“I’ll be fine,” Maggie repeated, with more confidence than she felt.
Evie didn’t look convinced, but she let it drop.
That night, lying in bed with Evie already asleep beside her, Maggie stared at the ceiling and tried not to think about four days alone. Four days of Thanksgiving without anyone. Four days of proving she could handle separation without falling apart.
She picked up her phone and texted Dr. Kim.
Session available this week? Could use a check-in.
The response came two minutes later.
Thursday 2pm. See you then.
Thanksgiving week arrived with gray skies and the threat of rain that never quite materialized.
Evie left Wednesday afternoon, pressing a long kiss to Maggie’s lips in the doorway of the apartment, neither of them caring that a neighbor might see.
“Four days,” Evie said.
“Four days,” Maggie echoed.
“Call me if you need me. Anytime.”
“I will. Have fun. Tell your mom I said hello.”
Evie smiled. “I will. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Then Evie was gone, and the apartment felt immediately, oppressively empty.
Maggie stood in the doorway for a long moment, listening to the silence, before closing the door and facing the weekend ahead.
She’d planned for this. She had a list—meal prep, deep cleaning, finally organizing the storage closet, maybe a long run along the river. Productive tasks that would keep her busy and distracted.
Instead, she found herself sitting on the couch with Sarah’s journals, reading entries she’d avoided for years.
Maggie’s trying so hard to make everything perfect. Turkey from that fancy butcher. Homemade everything. She’s been cooking for two days.
I love her for it. But I wish she’d just order takeout and sit with me instead. I don’t need perfect. I just need her.
Maggie closed the journal, chest tight.
She’d spent that Thanksgiving running herself ragged trying to create one perfect day. Sarah had been too sick to eat most of it. They’d ended up with soup from a can and watching old movies, and Sarah had been happier than she’d been in weeks.
Maggie had missed the point entirely.
Her phone buzzed.
Evie: Made it to Sacramento. Mom already asking a million questions about you. Send help.
Maggie smiled despite herself.
Tell her I’m terrifying but very charming… and good looking.
That’s what I said. She wants to know when she can meet you.
Soon. After the restriction lifts.
She says that’s too long and I should just bring you for Christmas.
Maggie’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. The invitation was tempting—scary but tempting. Meeting Evie’s family. Being introduced as her girlfriend. Making it real in a way that went beyond just the two of them.
Let’s talk about it when you get back. For now, enjoy your family.
Missing you already.
Miss you too. So much.
Thursday arrived without Maggie’s permission.
Maggie went for a run first thing, pushing herself harder than usual, trying to outpace the loneliness that had settled over her like a fog. By the time she got home, her legs were shaking and her lungs burned, but she felt slightly more human.
She showered, made coffee she barely drank, and tried to remember what people did on Thanksgiving when they were alone.
Her phone rang at 10 AM. Lisa Grant.
“Happy Thanksgiving, you hermit,” Lisa said by way of greeting.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Maggie replied.
“Please tell me you’re not spending today alone in that apartment.”
“I’m fine, Lisa.”
“That’s not what I asked. Come to my place. We’re doing friendsgiving. Starts at two.”
“I can’t—”
“Yes, you can. I know Evie’s out of town because she told me when I ran into her at the hospital last week. So unless you have other plans, you’re coming here.”
Maggie felt something loosen in her chest. “You don’t have to—”
“I’m not asking,” Lisa said. “I’m telling. Two PM. Bring wine. A decent wine. And don’t be late.”
She hung up before Maggie could argue.
At 1:45 PM, Maggie stood outside a brownstone in Echo Park with a bottle of expensive Pinot Noir, second-guessing everything.
But she knocked.
Lisa opened the door, took one look at her, and pulled her into a hug.
“So glad you made it,” Lisa said quietly.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Maggie replied.
Inside, the apartment was warm and loud—a dozen people Maggie didn’t know, all laughing and talking over each other, the kitchen full of food that smelled incredible.
Lisa introduced her around, and if anyone recognized Maggie’s name or made the connection to the hospital suspension, they were kind enough not to mention it.
Maggie found herself on the couch with a plate of food, wedged between two of Lisa’s friends who were arguing passionately about whether Die Hard was a Christmas movie.
Her phone buzzed.
Evie: How are you holding up?
Maggie snapped a quick photo of the crowded living room and sent it.
Lisa staged an intervention. I’m at friendsgiving.
Oh thank god. I was worried about you being alone.
I’m okay. How’s Sacramento?
Loud. My mom won’t stop asking about you. I may have shown her a photo.
Evie.
What? She asked! And now she’s in love with you. Says you have “kind eyes.” Whatever that means.
Maggie smiled, something warm spreading through her chest.
Tell her thank you.
I will. Gotta go—we’re about to eat. Love you.
Love you too.
Maggie set the phone down and realized Lisa was watching her with a knowing expression.
“That’s the face of someone in love,” Lisa said.
“Shut up,” Maggie replied, but she was smiling.
“I’m happy for you,” Lisa said seriously. “You deserve this.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I do,” Lisa said firmly. “You’ve spent six years punishing yourself for being human. For loving Sarah. For surviving when she didn’t. It’s about damn time you let yourself be happy.”
Maggie’s throat croaked. “I’m trying.”
“I know,” Lisa said. “And it shows. You look different. Lighter. Less like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
“That’s Evie,” Maggie admitted. “She won’t let me hide.”
“Good,” Lisa said. “Don’t let her go. You’ll regret it.”
“I won’t,” Maggie promised.
That night, back in her apartment, Maggie video-called Evie.