Page 14 of Crossing the Line (Phoenix Ridge Medical #6)

"You okay?" Piper asked gently. "You seem a little... I don't know, overwhelmed?"

"Just processing," Harper said, which was true enough. "It's a lot to take in. The hospital, the expectations, trying to prove you belong there."

"God, yes," Alice said with emphasis. "I spent the entire day convinced everyone could tell I was faking it. Like they'd figure out I'm actually just a very tall child playing dress-up in scrubs."

Piper nodded enthusiastically. "The impostor syndrome is real. I kept waiting for someone to ask to see my actual medical degree."

Harper smiled, and for a moment felt the connection she'd been craving. These women understood the pressure, the constant internal monitoring of professional performance. If only she could tell them about the additional layer of complication she was carrying.

"It's weird being colleagues with your mom," Alice continued. "Does that make the whole thing more or less nerve-wracking?"

"Both," Harper said honestly. "She's so proud, but that also means the stakes feel higher."

"Dr. Langston seems incredible though," Piper said. "Very respected and accomplished. You have good genetics for this career."

Harper nodded and made appropriate responses, but she felt the familiar distance opening up between herself and normal conversation.

Alice and Piper were being kind and inclusive, exactly the kind of colleagues she'd hoped to find.

But every topic led back to territory she couldn't navigate honestly.

She found herself scanning the café for Lavender, hoping for an opportunity to catch her attention without seeming rude to her companions. The older woman moved between tables with practiced ease, checking on customers with genuine warmth.

"I should probably head home soon," Harper said eventually. "Early rounds tomorrow."

"Us too," Alice said, though she made no move to gather her things. "But it's nice to decompress a little first. Tomorrow we get to do it all over again."

Harper smiled and nodded, playing the role of the friendly intern while her mind worked on how to orchestrate a private moment with Lavender. She needed advice that went far beyond normal first-day jitters, and time was running out.

Harper's opportunity came when Alice excused herself to the restroom and Piper got caught up in a phone call from her roommate about apartment drama. Lavender was wiping down a recently vacated table nearby, and Harper stood with the casual confidence of someone stretching her legs.

"The wine recommendations were perfect," Harper said quietly as Lavender approached their table to refresh the water glasses.

"I'm glad you're enjoying them." Lavender's eyes were kind but observant, the way Harper imagined a good therapist might look. "Though you seem like you might need something stronger than wine tonight."

The gentle accuracy of the observation nearly undid Harper's composure. "Is it that obvious?"

"Only to someone who's seen that particular look before." Lavender glanced toward Piper, still absorbed in her phone conversation, then back to Harper. "Would you like to talk somewhere more private? I have an office in the back."

Harper nodded, perhaps too quickly. "That would be helpful."

"Give me five minutes to get things settled out here."

Harper returned to the table as Alice reappeared from the restroom, sliding back into her chair with renewed energy.

"I think I'm finally feeling human again," Alice announced. "Nothing like good wine and better company to recover from surgical trauma."

"Agreed," Harper said, though her attention was partly on Lavender moving efficiently between tables, clearly preparing to step away. "Actually, I think I might head out soon. Still feeling pretty drained."

"Of course," Piper said, ending her call. "We should probably all get some sleep before round two tomorrow."

They settled their tab and gathered their things with the easy camaraderie Harper wished she could fully participate in. Outside on the cobblestone street, Alice and Piper headed toward the harbor district where most of the intern housing was clustered.

"See you bright and early," Alice called over her shoulder. "Try not to dream about surgical procedures."

Harper waved goodbye and waited until they'd turned the corner before slipping back inside Lavender's. The café had quieted considerably, only a few tables still occupied by couples deep in conversation or individuals reading alone.

Lavender appeared at her elbow almost immediately. "Right this way."

The back office was nothing like Harper had expected.

Instead of the clinical efficiency she associated with business spaces, Lavender had created something that felt more like a comfortable living room.

Soft lighting from table lamps, a small couch with throw pillows, bookshelves lined with everything from business manuals to poetry collections.

It felt like a space designed for difficult conversations.

"Sit wherever you're comfortable," Lavender said, settling into an armchair across from the couch. "And tell me what's really going on."

Harper sank into the couch cushions and felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. The privacy felt like permission to drop the careful performance she'd been maintaining all day.

"I made a mistake," she said simply. "A big one. And I don't know how to fix it."

"What kind of mistake?"

The question was asked without judgment, with the patient curiosity of someone who'd probably heard every variety of human error. Harper found herself speaking before her usual caution could interfere.

"I lied to someone about who I was, what I did, even my name. And then...things happened between us. Personal things. And now I have to work with her professionally, and she knows I lied about everything."

Lavender nodded thoughtfully. "How personal?"

Harper felt heat creep up her neck. "Very personal."

"I see." Lavender's expression remained carefully neutral. "And this person, she's important to you?"

"I thought she might be. But how can I know if anything was real when I built it all on lies?

" Harper's voice carried the frustration she'd been suppressing all day.

"I wanted to be someone different, someone free from all the expectations and baggage.

So I created this whole other identity, and for one night it was perfect. But now..."

"Now you're facing the consequences of those choices."

"Now she looks at me like I'm a stranger. Worse than a stranger. She looks at me like I'm someone who can't be trusted."

Lavender was quiet for a moment, studying Harper with the kind of attention that felt thorough without being invasive. "What did you want from this other identity? What was it giving you that being yourself wasn't?"

The question hit deeper than Harper had expected. She'd been so focused on the practical disaster of her situation that she hadn't examined the emotional motivations underneath.

"Freedom," she said eventually. "The chance to be wanted for who I actually am, not for what I represent or achieve.

I've spent my whole life being Dr. Langston's daughter, living up to this legacy of excellence and achievement.

I wanted one night where someone might choose me without knowing any of that. "

"And did she? Choose you?"

Harper remembered Carmen's hands in her hair, the way she'd looked at 'Hailey' like she was worth taking risks for. "I thought so. But maybe she was just choosing the lie I was telling."

"Maybe," Lavender agreed. "Or maybe she was responding to parts of you that were genuine, even if the details were false."

"How can I know the difference?"

"You can't, unless you're willing to find out, which means being honest about who you really are and what you really want."

Harper leaned back against the couch cushions, feeling the weight of the day settling into her bones. "She's my supervisor for the next eight weeks. Even if I wanted to try to fix this, I can't exactly confess my feelings in the middle of a surgical suite."

"No," Lavender said with a small smile. "That would be poor timing."

"And there's my mother to consider. This woman is my mother's colleague, her friend. If this goes badly, it could damage relationships that have nothing to do with me."

"Lots of complications," Lavender observed. "But complications aren't the same as impossibilities."

Harper studied Lavender's face, looking for guidance in her calm expression. "What would you do?"

"I'd start by figuring out what I actually wanted, separate from what I thought other people expected from me.

Then I'd decide if it was worth fighting for.

" Lavender's voice was gentle but firm. "Relationships built on partial truths have shaky foundations, but that doesn't mean they can't be rebuilt with honesty. "

"Even when the lies were as big as mine?"

"Especially then. The bigger the lie, the more important the truth becomes."

Harper felt something shift in her chest, not quite hope but something adjacent to it. "She might not forgive me."

"She might not," Lavender agreed. "But you'll never know if you don't give her the chance. And more importantly, you'll never forgive yourself if you don't try."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the distant sounds of the café providing a gentle backdrop. Harper felt some of the isolation she'd been carrying begin to ease, replaced by something that felt like clarity.

"The person I was with her," Harper said slowly, "the confident, direct version of myself—that wasn't entirely fake. It was just...simplified. All the complicated family stuff and professional pressures were stripped away."

"Maybe that's who you really are underneath all the expectations."

"Maybe." Harper looked around the warm office space, taking in the evidence of a life built on authentic connection and community support. "Thank you for listening and not making me feel like a complete disaster."