Chapter 12 #2
“Mmhmm. We’ll definitely come back to that,” he said, and I could practically see the smile on his face through the phone.
“But yes, you need an attorney. Not because you did anything wrong but because despite that, the hospital seems poised to place the blame on your shoulders, which opens you up to liability issues down the line. You want someone who can make sure you don’t inadvertently say something that could be used against you later. ”
“That’s what I figured.”
“Let me call Vincent Cross,” he suggested. “He’s a malpractice defense attorney out of Atlanta, but he takes cases nationally. He handled a situation for a colleague of mine a few years back. Brilliant strategist, doesn’t back down from hospitals or their legal teams.”
“Sounds good. I’d appreciate an introduction.”
“Of course. Now listen, Cole.” He paused. “I know this is hard. I know it feels like everything you’ve worked for is being used against you. But you made the right call. Don’t let them railroad you into doubting that.”
I choked up at that. “That’s the thing—the doublespeak I’m dealing with. Like Dr. Webb agrees I did the right thing, that they have no issues with the decisions I made, but also at the first mention of trouble, I’m the problem and they need me to admit that.”
“Webb is covering his ass. That’s what department chairs do when they’ve been at it too long—they forget what it’s like to actually practice medicine, to only have a few seconds to make a decision.
They get comfortable in their corner offices and forget that real doctors are down in the trenches making life-and-death decisions every day. ”
“Yeah. Exactly.”
“Cole, are you listening to me? Ears open?”
“Wide open. I’m listening.”
“Good. Because I need you to hear this—you did nothing wrong. You made a judgment call; that patient’s family wasn’t there and you couldn’t wait. Any reasonable surgeon would have made the same call.”
“I know.”
“Then act like you know it. When you walk into that meeting Tuesday, you walk in with your head up. You answer their questions professionally and honestly. You don’t apologize for saving lives, and you don’t let them twist your decisions into something they weren’t.”
I closed my eyes, letting his words settle. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Now.” He paused and I felt my eyes beginning to roll. “Tell me about this Black woman in Risk Management.”
I couldn’t help my smile, knowing full well it was translating to my voice. “Her name is Harper.”
“Harper,” Dad repeated, as if he was rolling a rare coin between his fingers. “That’s a good, strong name. And this Harper is going out on a limb for you?”
“She’s trying to. It’s…You know what it’s like when most of the staff doesn’t look like you. We connected on that level pretty early and she warned me that this was a track the hospital might take.”
“Mmmmh,” he hummed, appearing to contemplate my words. “Are you personally involved?”
“Officially, absolutely not. The most professional of relationships.”
“And unofficially?”
I didn’t know what to say. Harper and I weren’t dating, but we’d been out together and spent time together and had definitely crossed a few lines that we shouldn’t have crossed. But I also didn’t regret crossing them.
“It’s complicated,” I finally said.
“I bet it is. Hospital politics always are, especially when you mix in personal feelings.”
“I ain’t said nothin’ about—”
“Son, I’ve been married to your mother long enough to know. It’s in your voice.” He paused. “You need to be careful. If this goes sideways, she could get caught up.”
“I know. That’s what I’m worried about.”
“Then make sure you both come out of this intact. I’ll have Vincent reach out to you. Prepare for that meeting. And make sure Harper keeps her head up high too. Call me after the meeting Tuesday. I want to hear how it goes. Oh, and son?”
“Yeah, Dad?”
“The next family FaceTime session, make sure Harper is around. I’d like to lay my eyes on her. Your mother would sure love to meet the woman who may have tamed her youngest boy.”
I laughed despite everything. “We’re not—it’s not like that.”
“Yet,” Dad said. “Keep me in the loop. On everything.”
“I will, Dad.”
I hung up and sat there for a moment, phone still in my hand.
Dad had spent years as a physician, many of those at a major teaching hospital.
He’d navigated the same politics, the same bureaucracy, the same careful dance between doing your job and keeping administration happy.
If he said I needed an attorney, I needed an attorney.
And if he thought Harper was worth meeting, then what was happening between us was more than just complicated.
My phone buzzed with a text before I could think too hard about that.
Banks:
Hey Vaughn. We missed you last night. Plastics beat our asses. Where’d you get off to?
I stared at the message for a moment, debating how to respond.
Me:
Had something come up.
Banks:
Mmhmm. You playing tonight? We need to reclaim our crown.
Me:
It’s Wednesday, Banks.
Banks:
I know what the hell day it is, man. We play when we play. You in or out?
I needed to burn off the tension from this morning. I needed to stop replaying Webb’s words in my head.
Me:
Gimme thirty minutes.
I changed quickly, trading my button-down and slacks for shorts and a t-shirt that had seen better days. The fabric was worn soft from too many washes, the hospital logo on the front faded to almost nothing.
The gym was more crowded than I expected for a Wednesday evening. Both courts were in use—cardio had claimed one end for a pick-up game of their own, and trauma had the other. I spotted Banks immediately, already warming up with Dr. Kim and a few others I recognized from Tuesday nights.
Banks was five foot nine, built like an athlete, with deep brown skin and a fade that was always crisp.
She spent her high school and college years playing competitive sports, from lacrosse to basketball to soccer.
Her hands were quick, her court sense was excellent, and she talked more shit during a game than anyone I’d ever met.
“Vaughn!” Kim called when he saw me. “You lost? This isn’t Tuesday.”
“I know what day it is.”
“Mans missed a day, so I made him come down tonight,” Banks said, jogging over with a grin splitting her face. She dribbled the ball between her legs, showing off. “We got our asses handed to us by plastics. Plastics, Cole. Do you know how embarrassing that is?”
“Sounds like a you problem.”
“Sounds like a we problem since you weren’t there to carry us.” She tossed me the ball. “So where were you? And don’t say work because I checked the board.”
I caught the ball, took a shot from the three-point line. It rimmed out. “Had something to take care of.”
“Something.” Banks retrieved the ball, passed it back to me. “Or someone?”
“Banks—”
“Because word around the hospital is you’ve been spending a lot of time on the ICU floor lately. And the ICU floor just happens to be where a certain director of Risk Management does a lot of her work.” Her eyebrows hiked curiously. “Funny coincidence, that.”
“You’re reading into things.”
“Am I?” Banks moved closer, lowering her voice. “Because I saw you and Harper Sutton in the hallway last week. The way you two were looking at each other was not professional, Vaughn.”
I took another shot. This one went in. “We have a professional relationship.”
“Mmhmm. Professional.” Banks laughed. “You don’t look at anybody at work the way you were looking at her. And she was definitely looking back.”
“Even if that were true—shit’s complicated.”
“Yeah, it is. She works for the hospital. You’re in the middle of the Greene investigation. That’s like, maximum complicated.” Banks dribbled past me, sank an easy layup. “But that’s not what I’m asking about. I’m asking if you’re finally letting yourself have something good.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’ve been married to this place since I met you. Early mornings, late nights, weekends in the OR. No hobbies except basketball once a week. No relationships. No life outside these walls.”
She grabbed the ball, held it against her hip. “Harper Sutton is smart, super fine, and from what I’ve seen, she’s got backbone. You should be so lucky to get some of her time. Don’t sabotage it because you’re scared.”
“I am not scared.”
“Then what are you?”
I didn’t have a good answer for that. Banks waited, watching me with those eyes that missed nothing.
“The Greene case is going to get worse before it gets better,” I said finally. “If Harper and I—if there’s something there, it puts her in a difficult position.”
“So you’re trying to protect her.”
“By not dragging her down with me if this goes sideways.”
Banks shook her head. “Man, that’s some tragic hero bullshit. She knows what she’s doing.”
“This is different. The Hart family has serious pull with the Board. If they decide to make an example of me, anyone close to me becomes collateral damage.”
“And you think Harper doesn’t know that?” Banks stepped closer. “Cole, listen. If she’s looking out for you, it’s because she chose to. She has a reason to. Don’t insult her by assuming she can’t handle her business.”
“I’m not—”
“You are. You’re doing that thing where you decide what’s best for everyone else without asking them. It’s annoying when you do it with residents, and it’s gotta be annoying when you do it with women you’re sleeping with.”
“I never said I was—”
“Boy, you ain’t have to.” Banks grinned. “Your energy screams that y’all been fucking. Don’t even try to tell me you just be having some good conversations. Good conversations, my ass.”
I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. There was no point. Banks had already figured it out.
“So…what?” I asked. “What do I say now?”
“Say you’re going to stop trying to be a martyr and let someone be on your team. Say you’re going to fight for yourself and for whatever’s happening between you and Harper, instead of sacrificing yourself because you think that’s noble.”