And I hated myself a little for not being brave enough to walk away.
Dr. Rice gathered her things, her attention already shifting to the next meeting. “I want a full prep session with Dr. Vaughn by Monday afternoon. Send me your notes afterward.”
“Fine.”
“And Harper?” She looked up. “I meant what I said. I need to know you can handle this objectively. If I think for one second that you’re compromising this hospital’s interests because of some personal loyalty to Dr. Vaughn, we’re going to have a much more serious conversation. Am I being understood?”
“Yes,” I replied, seething that I had to agree. She roped me into this case because Mrs. Hart and Dr. Vaughn were Black, and for no other reason. She thought I’d smile and play the good employee and gently guide Cole through RMC fucking him over.
She opened the door and stomped out of my office. I was right behind her a few moments later. I had to get out of the building.
Right now.
I rode the elevator down in silence, staring at my reflection in the stainless steel. I prayed I’d be able to get to my car without anyone seeing the little earthquakes under my skin.
The employee parking garage was humid. I unlocked my car, slid into the driver’s seat, and sat there with both hands on the wheel.
Everything Dr. Rice said kept circling in my mind. The threat, not even veiled, was a blunt blade pressed to my spine. How quick she was to toss Cole’s life onto the scale to steady the hospital’s standing with a donor family worth fifteen million.
And I let her. I let myself get swept along, too busy protecting my own skin to do the right thing.
I pulled out my phone, scrolled, and dialed.
Cole picked up on the second ring. “Hey.”
Just hearing his voice did something to me, calmed my nerves in a way I hadn’t expected. I didn’t know this man well enough to be comforted by the sound of his voice.
“Hi. Are you busy?”
“Uhm, nah. I took today off since I worked all weekend. Are you trying to download about the meeting? Webb called a bit ago.”
“Yeah. Actually, I need to see you. Can we meet up somewhere?”
“I figured you might reach out.” His voice dropped, concerned. “I’m at home. You want to come through? I’ll text you the address.”
“I…are you sure?”
“Yeah. We need the privacy. And I want to be alone with you. Sending a text. See you in a minute.”
The line went dead. A few seconds later, my phone buzzed with his address.
I plugged it into my GPS and pulled out of the garage.
Chapter Eleven
HARPER
The door swung open, revealing Cole in jeans and a t-shirt, the light from the house spilling out around him in the doorway. Whatever he read in my expression made his shoulders tense slightly—the subtle reaction of a man who recognized trouble when it arrived on his doorstep.
“Come on in,” he said, stepping aside.
The inside of his house was clean and functional, but also warm and lived-in. Hardwood floors stretched through the space. A comfortable-looking couch faced a flat screen TV. A coffee table held a few medical journals stacked neatly. Bookcases lined one wall, filled with textbooks and what looked like fiction mixed in. Colorful abstract art hung on the walls alongside a few framed family photos. The space felt like him—simple but welcoming, minimal without being sterile, comfortable without being cluttered.
“You need something to drink?” Cole asked, leading me toward the kitchen. “Water? Beer? I might have a bottle of wine,but I’m partial to brown liquor. I’m not much of a drinker at home, so the options are limited.”
“Water’s fine,” I said, following him into the kitchen. “For now.”
He filled a glass from the filtered dispenser in the refrigerator door. The kitchen was spotless, all white counters and stainless steel appliances. A dish towel was folded over the handle of the oven. Either Cole had a hell of a housekeeper or he was compulsively neat.
