Page 50 of Written in the Charts

Until he sat down and got a serious expression.

“Gypsy, we should talk about something.”

I braced myself, pushing the drink container away from me on the desk. Cameron rubbed his forehead, grimacing as he took a deep breath. Whatever it was, he was not happy about sharing it with me, which meant I must have done something wrong. Or worse, he found out about me and Evan. That thought made me cringe. I was humiliated as it was by the grades, but that fuck up would haunt me.

“This far into med school, I know you’re aware of certain ethical conditions to being a doctor, laws that we must follow.”

My heart sank. He knew. My shoulders dropped. I couldn’t look him in the eye, but I nodded. Shame washed over me, painting my cheeks red. They burned, setting my ears aflame too. My hair shrouded my face. My neck prickled. I was prepared for the worst.

“So you understand that your relationship with Evan Miller is an ethics violation. That you shouldn’t be treating him while you’re dating him. That it could pose a threat to his healthcare in many ways. Not only could it cloud your ability to see any medical needs he has clearly, but it could preclude him from choosing healthcare options that are best for him because he doesn’t want to upset you. Or from choosing a different doctor or getting a second opinion just to avoid hurting your feelings.”

I felt emotions welling up, but I choked them back. “Yeah, I know.” I sighed. From the beginning, I knew it wasn’t a good idea. “I tried telling you in the beginning.”

Cameron frowned. “I know. I’m sorry about that. I was having an off day, and I should have been more attentive.”

“How’d you know? I mean, was it that obvious?” I picked at my fingernails and looked up at him. He had a sympathetic expression.

“Well, at first, I didn’t know. But then you were really emotional about things at the same time Evan requested to see me only—not you. I’ve been giving him his PRP injections on your days off. And then there was the day you broke down and confessed that you were pregnant. You talked about a military guy you were dating. I sort of figured it was him, but you were so upset I didn’t want to bring it up then.”

I was mortified. I’d thought I was being so careful, and the whole time, he knew. There was nothing worse than feeling so exposed. I wondered if he had said anything to Evan. Or maybe that was just my fault and I’d bear the brunt of the punishment.

“I’m really sorry. Do you have to report me or something?” The grimace on my face must have been funny because he chuckled.

“No, nothing like that. I’m your mentor, so I’m going to give you a break here. What we’re going to do is transition all of Evan’s care away from you. I’ll take it on myself so you can feel free to do what you’d like. The problem with that is, you can’t see his chart or be privy to any of his care unless he gives permission. I can’t consult you on anything because now, you are not just another professional—you are his partner.”

I shrugged. If that was the least of my concerns, I could live with it. I wondered how long he’d known about the relationship or if he’d figured out that we’d had sex in the office, but I wasn’t about to ask that question. I’d pushed my luck enough for one day.

“I’m so sorry. I knew it was wrong the entire time, but I just love him so much. We dated when we were kids, and when he came back I—”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, okay? Just breathe a sigh of relief. It’s one less thing you have to hide. Now you can really focus on nailing these last two classes and finishing that degree. You’ll just have the rest of your residency, and you’ll sit for state boards. And I’ll be here to cheer you on the entire way.”

I forced a smile and held it, but looking up at him made the smile more genuine. Cameron was a really good friend. I was grateful to have him. “Thank you for having my back.”

“You got it, Gypsy. I wouldn’t do this for just anyone, but I believe in you. I’ve seen the way you care for our patients, and you are going to make an excellent doctor.”

His praise was unexpected but appreciated. We chatted for almost an hour about more of his horror stories from being a doctor before I got too tired and wanted to leave. He helped me pack up my things and walked me to my car. Both of us thought it was strange that a bush looked like it had been trampled, but in the dark maybe our eyes were deceiving us. I drove home feeling grateful for such a kind mentor, but I was ready to see Evan.

When I pulled in, he wasn’t there, so I headed up to my apartment to wait for him. He promised to come by after work, but during my study times I always shut my phone off, so if he’d called to say he wasn’t coming, I hadn’t gotten the message yet.

I dumped my bags by the front door and plopped onto the couch, pulling my phone out. When it powered up, I noticed I had a few missed calls from him and a voicemail, but no texts. I listened to the voice message. He’d come by earlier but I wasn’t home yet, so he left. Saddened that I’d missed him, I returned his call, but he didn't answer, so I grabbed some ice cream and curled up in bed watching a show.

When the ice cream was finished, I set the empty pint on the bedside table and made sure my ringer was turned up. I started to doze just after ten, but something made me jerk awake around midnight. Evan hadn’t called back or come over. It made me sad to think he was upset with me, so I called him again, this time leaving a message.

“Hey, bud. I tried calling earlier. I was home but you didn’t answer. I’m waiting. You can still come over if you want. I miss you.” I waited a second and added, “I love you.”

Deciding that he would likely just knock on the door if he came, I slept with my bedroom door open and my phone ringer on loud. Nights where we missed each other were hard, but the hardest part was the insecurity I went through thinking he was mad at me for some reason. I’d wake up and feel better, but I fell asleep wishing he were here.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-SEVEN

Evan

I woke up lying in my own bed fully clothed. My head was pounding, the light coming in my window practically blinding me. It was Friday, and I had the day off, but that the clock read 10:31 a.m. was shocking, nonetheless. I was an early riser, so sleeping in this long was abnormal. I didn’t even remember how I got home, which was concerning, but I was in one piece.

My knee throbbed, something that I hadn’t felt in a few weeks following the platelet therapy and the cortisone shots. I vaguely remembered tripping over something and twisting it, and the more I tried to remember what had happened, the more came crashing back into my mind—waiting for Gypsy to come home, finding her at the office, spying on her and Dr. Marshal, tripping over that bush.

The alcohol had done its job, drowning my emotions and helping me sleep, but I’d overdone it. My stomach rolled and my chest was pounding. I hadn’t had a hangover this bad in years. That bartender was an idiot for serving me too much, but I was the bigger idiot for not pacing myself. Four shots in under fifteen minutes was a lot.

I rolled over, my entire body aching from dehydration, and reached for my phone, which was not on my nightstand where it normally lay. I groped around a bit, searching for it but not finding it, then decided I needed water more than I needed to check my messages.

---