Page 22 of Crossing the Line (Phoenix Ridge Medical #6)

HARPER

H arper arrived at Café Luna fifteen minutes early, but her mother was already there, settled at a corner table with the kind of casual authority that came from being a regular.

Natalie looked up from her phone as Harper approached, her smile bright with the particular warmth she reserved for moments when her professional and maternal pride aligned.

"There's my brilliant daughter," Natalie said, rising to embrace Harper with the easy affection that had always made Harper feel simultaneously cherished and suffocated. "You look tired. Long morning?"

Harper managed a smile as she settled into the chair across from her mother, grateful for the familiar ritual of lunch ordering to buy time while her emotions settled.

The morning's simulation felt like it had happened in another lifetime—Harper's professional triumph, Carmen's admission of desire, and then the devastating retreat that left Harper standing alone with echoes of confessions that apparently meant nothing.

"Early start," Harper said, which was true enough. "Dr. Méndez had me in the simulation lab at six."

"Did she?" Natalie's eyebrows rose with obvious approval. "That's excellent, Harper. Carmen doesn't offer extra instruction lightly. She must see real potential in you."

The words should have filled Harper with pride.

Instead, they felt like glass in her chest, sharp reminders of how little her mother knew about the morning's actual events.

Carmen saw potential, all right—potential for disaster, potential for professional ruin, potential for destroying the careful boundaries that kept her world controlled and safe.

"The simulation was challenging," Harper said, focusing on her menu to avoid her mother's perceptive gaze. "Complex cardiac scenarios, equipment failures, multiple complications."

"And you handled them well, I'm sure." Natalie's voice carried the confidence of someone who'd never doubted Harper's abilities.

"I've been telling Carmen for years that she needs to take on more mentoring responsibilities.

She's brilliant, but she's been too guarded since.

.." Natalie paused, her expression shifting into something more protective.

Harper looked up from her menu, sensing an opportunity to understand the woman who'd just shattered her heart. "Since what?"

"The professional betrayal," Natalie said carefully. "Her former research partner stole techniques Carmen had developed, then published them as her original work. It was devastating—professionally and personally. They'd been involved romantically as well."

The information hit Harper like a physical blow.

Carmen's careful control, her fear of crossing boundaries, her immediate retreat when emotions became too real—it all made terrible sense now.

Harper wasn't just asking Carmen to risk her career; she was asking her to trust someone again after being destroyed.

"That's awful," Harper managed, her voice steadier than her suddenly racing heart. "No wonder she's so...careful about professional relationships."

"Exactly." Natalie leaned forward slightly, her voice taking on the protective tone she used when discussing people she cared about.

"Carmen built walls after that experience.

She's been focused entirely on her work, avoiding any situation that might compromise her professional standing.

It's why I was so pleased to hear she's taken you under her wing.

She needs to remember that not everyone will betray her trust."

Harper felt nausea rise in her throat. She wasn't someone who might betray Carmen's trust; she'd already done it.

She'd lied about her identity, slept with Carmen under false pretenses, and now she was sitting across from Carmen's friend while her mother unknowingly explained why Carmen's morning retreat had been inevitable.

"She mentioned extra mentoring," Natalie continued, signaling the server for more coffee. "I think having a promising student to guide is good for her. Carmen needs to remember that she's more than just her research and what that woman took from her."

"You really care about her," Harper observed, trying to keep her voice neutral despite the growing weight in her chest.

"Of course I do. Carmen is..." Natalie paused, choosing her words carefully. "She's one of the most dedicated physicians I know. She deserves someone who appreciates her brilliance without trying to take credit for it. Someone who sees her value and doesn't exploit it."

Each word felt like an indictment. Harper was exactly the kind of person Natalie was warning against. She was someone who'd taken advantage of Carmen's rare moment of vulnerability, someone who'd complicated her carefully rebuilt professional life, and someone who couldn't even be honest about her own identity.

"She's lucky to have a friend like you," Harper said, the words tasting stale.

"We look out for each other in this profession," Natalie replied with a smile.

"Especially the women. We have to support each other because no one else will.

" Her expression brightened. "Which reminds me…

how are you settling into Phoenix Ridge?

Meeting people, making connections? I know starting over in a new city can be isolating. "

The shift in conversation should have felt like relief. Instead, Harper felt the familiar trap of her mother's loving concern, the way Natalie's questions always seemed designed to uncover exactly what Harper was trying to hide.

"It's been good," Harper said, the lie sliding out with practiced ease. "The apartment is perfect, close enough to walk to work. And everyone at the hospital has been welcoming."

"I hope you're not spending all your time studying," Natalie said, cutting into her salad with the efficient movements of someone accustomed to eating quickly between patients.

"Phoenix Ridge has a wonderful community, especially for young professional women.

Have you had a chance to explore the social scene? "

Harper's fork paused halfway to her mouth. The question felt like stepping into a minefield, every possible answer carrying the potential for devastating honesty. "I've been focused on work mostly. Getting settled, learning the hospital culture, that kind of thing."

"Of course, but work-life balance is important." Natalie's voice carried the gentle persistence Harper remembered from adolescence, when her mother would probe about friendships and school activities with the same loving determination. "Are you meeting anyone interesting? Dating?"

The direct question made Harper’s heart drop into her stomach.

She forced herself to chew and swallow the bite of sandwich that suddenly tasted like cardboard, buying time while her mind raced through acceptable responses.

The truth—that she'd fallen for her supervisor, lied about her identity, slept with her mother's friend, and spent the morning having her heart broken in a simulation lab—was impossible.

"Not really," Harper managed, proud that her voice remained steady. "I'm still adjusting to everything. The work is demanding, and I want to establish myself professionally before I get distracted by personal relationships."

It was a deflection she'd perfected during medical school, one that usually satisfied concerned relatives while avoiding uncomfortable details. But Natalie's expression suggested she wasn't entirely convinced.

"Phoenix Ridge has a lovely lesbian community," Natalie continued, her tone casual but encouraging. "Very welcoming and supportive. Lavender's Café-Bar downtown is a popular spot. The Chief of Police, Diana, mentioned they host community events. You might enjoy checking it out."

Harper's chest tightened at the mention of Lavender's, the place where everything had started. Where she'd met Carmen as Hailey, where she'd lied with such practiced ease, where she'd felt powerful and free for exactly one night before it all came crashing down.

"I'll keep that in mind," Harper said, taking a careful sip of water to ease the sudden dryness in her throat.

"I just want you to be happy here," Natalie said, reaching across the table to squeeze Harper's hand with warm fingers.

"You've worked so hard to get to this point, and you deserve to enjoy your life, not just your career.

I know I sometimes pushed too hard when you were younger, focused too much on achievement and not enough on your happiness. "

The maternal honesty was devastating. Harper stared down at their joined hands—her mother's confident surgeon's fingers covering her own—and felt the weight of every lie she'd told…

and every truth she was hiding. Natalie wanted her happiness, but Harper had already destroyed any chance of that by making choices that put her on a collision course with disaster.

"You didn't push too hard," Harper said softly. "You helped me become who I am."

"I hope so." Natalie's smile was warm but tinged with something that looked like regret. "I know I wasn't always the most emotionally available mother. Building a career as a single woman in medicine required sacrifices, and sometimes I worried that you paid the price for my ambition."

Harper felt tears threaten behind her eyes.

This was exactly the kind of honest conversation she'd always craved with her mother, the acknowledgment of complexity in their relationship, the recognition that they were both imperfect people trying to love each other well.

And she couldn't participate authentically because her life had become a carefully constructed web of deceptions.

"You did your best," Harper said, squeezing her mother's hand before gently extracting her own. "And look how it turned out. I'm exactly where I always wanted to be."

"Are you?" Natalie studied Harper's face. "You seem...tense and more guarded than usual. Is everything really going well with your rotation?"