Page 5 of Love Medley
I grit my teeth; I hate when Sterling and my dad speak as though I’m not even present. It’s true I took an extra year to graduate from Blackwell University, but I absolutely loved being there, soaking up the knowledge like a sponge clinging to every drop of water. I took a wide variety of classes, desperate to learn something outside of the Whitlock-approved list. Eventually I landed on psychology as a major—not my father’s favorite, but as long as I took the premed requirements, he tolerated it. And the additional tuition for that year ate at me even though I had a partial scholarship and picked up summer jobs to offset the extra expense.
That’s a feeling I know intimately—guilt.
“Yes, that’s true,” my father adds. “You need to decide and decide soon. Choose surgery like your brother.”
Surgery. No fucking way. The fact they don’t care to know me, the true me, still stings more than it should. Ironically, I supposeif I continued to pursue the “please Dad” line, maybe Iwouldhave ended up in that field, trying to become Sterling number two.
The thought makes me gag.
The only thing I've done so far is sit down; I haven't even been served the salad course. I guess I won’t be eating, even though they’ll likely have my favorite bread pudding for dessert.
I’ll buy my own damned bread pudding.
Removing the napkin from my lap, I place it on the table while bracing myself for their reaction to my next words. “Well, I might as well get this over with. I quit medical school a couple of years ago.”
My family freezes, all four of them staring at me. I’m honestly shocked no one has discovered my secret. After diverting my tuition letters and all other financial correspondence to my own mailbox, I had the academic fees funneled into a separate account that I was intending to return to my parents. My biggest fear was that someone from the school would run into Sterling and accidentally reveal my secret ahead of time.
Even though I chose this for myself, even though it’s the right call, why do I still feel terrible about it? Why do I feel like this is a copout, just a way to legitimize my “second-rate citizen” status?
“What?” My mother is the first to speak, and her horrified voice mobilizes the rest of my family.
“This is a disgrace!” my father shouts, the veins in his neck bulging in an alarming manner. “Your mother has given you a lot of leeway over the years, but that’s over.”
I love how he even throws my mother under the bus.
While my father’s words aren’t a surprise, they still hit hard. I gave med school a try because I genuinely enjoyed human biology in college. But the more I listened to Sterling brag about his long hours and how little he had to interact with patients—like this was some sort of prize—the more I realized med school wasn’t the right place for me. I didn’t want to spend a decade chasing a career just because it was what my father expected, especially when what I actually wanted—dedicated time with patients—could be within reach much sooner. And in nursing, that kind of focused connection wouldn’t be a side benefit.
It would be the job.
Still, it was easy to stay in denial during the first two years of medical school. I wasn’t bad at it. I passed my classes, kept up the image. But deep down, I dreaded third year—the start of clinical rotations. I’d be in the hospital, constantly observed and graded by doctors, forced to pretend I loved something I didn’t. Forced to smile when I just wanted to scream.
While I’m an expert at hiding my true feelings—you couldn’t survive in this family otherwise—I just couldn’t do it anymore. It was torture—knowing that I was in the wrong place. In fact, being in med school felt like being in this house. Suffocating and wrong.
But then if that’s true—why does choosing this have to feel so damned horrible? Why does something logically right feel so wrong? Make me feel likeI’mwrong?
But that’s the thing about being a Whitlock—stepping off the preordained path is equal to failure. Quitting med school insteadof pushing through? According to them, that makes me weak. And weakness is something my father will never abide.
Still, I refuse to give in. Even if it means that I have to live with the fact that I’ll never be good enough in their eyes.
“After I quit, I entered a nursing program," I resume evenly, as if my parents hadn’t spoken. "I graduated last week and landed a job as an RN in the Blackwell Emergency Room. I start next week.”
Wyatt is the first to break the silence. He barks out a laugh. “Well, damn,” he says. Is that…admiration in his tone? “I’ll say this for you, Jake. You know how to make an entrance.”
“And an exit.” I rise from my chair. “I just wanted to share the news with you before you found out some other way.”
“You aren’t getting another dime from me,” my father says in a menacing voice. “You are a complete embarrassment to this family. What kind of self-respecting man becomes a nurse?!”
“Me,” I say with finality.
I pretend to drop a mic as I leave the room.
Chapter three
Lucy
Fourth Year–July 2025
Istare at my reflection in the white IKEA bureau mirror. The pale blue sundress, patterned with delicate white flowers, which should be cozy and soothing, instead makes my pulse jump.
