Page 35 of Crossing the Line (Phoenix Ridge Medical #6)

CARMEN

C armen finally found her voice, stepping away from the wall with visible effort. "Natalie, I know how this looks?—"

"Do you?" Natalie's gaze snapped to Carmen. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like my closest friend and colleague has been sleeping with my daughter while pretending to be her professional mentor."

The crude description made Carmen's stomach clench with nausea.

Reduced to its basic elements, stripped of emotion and context, their relationship sounded exactly as sordid as Carmen's worst fears had painted it.

She felt her professional composure fracturing under the weight of Natalie's accusation.

"It's not like that," Harper said, finding strength in desperation. "We didn't plan this. It just happened?—"

"It just happened?" Natalie's voice rose for the first time, control giving way to fury. "You accidentally lied about your identity? You accidentally seduced your supervisor? Which part was accidental, Harper?"

Carmen watched Harper flinch and saw her own failure reflected in Harper's wounded expression.

She'd done this—created a situation where Harper had to defend their love like it was something shameful.

The woman who'd whispered "I love you too" against Carmen's lips just minutes ago now stood diminished by the ugly reality of their secrecy.

"I lied about who I was because I wanted one night where someone might choose me for myself, not because I'm your daughter," Harper said, her voice gaining strength despite the tears threatening behind her eyes. "And yes, I fell in love with her. That wasn't planned, but I don't regret it."

"Love?" Natalie's laugh was sharp, and Carmen felt each syllable cut deep. "You think this is love? Harper, you're twenty-six years old. You've been in Phoenix Ridge for three weeks. You don't know the difference between infatuation and love."

The dismissal sent rage through Carmen's chest, protective instinct overriding her paralysis. "Don't," she said. "Don't minimize what she feels. Harper's feelings are?—"

"What she feels ?" Natalie turned the full force of her fury on her, and Carmen felt herself shrinking under the disappointed gaze of someone whose respect she'd valued for years.

"And you? What's your excuse, Carmen? She's my daughter.

She's barely older than some of our medical students. She's in your care professionally ."

Carmen's throat constricted as she tried to find words that could explain the inexplicable—how Harper had become essential to her breathing, how their connection transcended every rational boundary she'd tried to maintain.

"I know," Carmen whispered, her professional authority dissolving completely. "I know how wrong this looks and inappropriate it is. I tried to fight it?—"

"You're supposed to be the professional adult here. Instead, you've been taking advantage of a young woman who's obviously infatuated with your authority." Natalie's voice carried disbelief that made Carmen's chest burn with shame.

"That's not what this is," Harper protested, stepping forward despite the way Natalie's gaze could have drawn blood.

Carmen felt a surge of love watching Harper defend them, even as her own world crumbled.

"Carmen didn't take advantage of anything.

I pursued her. I made the first move. I was the one who lied and created this situation. "

"Oh, Harper." Natalie's voice broke slightly, and Carmen saw the exact moment when outrage gave way to heartache.

"You can't possibly understand the power dynamics at play here.

Carmen is your supervisor. She controls your evaluations and future in this program.

How can you not see how compromised your judgment is? "

The words felt like being dissected alive. Carmen understood Natalie's concerns and saw exactly how their relationship looked from the outside, how every professional boundary she'd spent her career respecting had been obliterated by her need for Harper's touch.

"My judgment isn't compromised," Harper said quietly, and Carmen marveled at her composure in the face of such a devastating attack. "My feelings are real. What we have together is real. And I won't apologize for loving someone who sees me as more than just another intern to evaluate."

Natalie stared at Harper for a long moment, and Carmen watched something die in her friend's eyes. Trust, perhaps. Or the comfortable assumption that Harper was still the obedient daughter who valued her approval above everything else.

"I can't." Natalie's voice was barely audible. "I can't even look at either of you right now."

She turned toward the door, then stopped. When she looked back, her expression had hardened into something resembling the distance Carmen had seen her use with difficult patients.

"Carmen, you'll submit a request for Harper's immediate reassignment to another supervisor. Tonight. And Harper..." She paused, studying her daughter's face as if memorizing it. "I hope whatever you think you've found is worth destroying everything we've built together."

Harper's sharp intake of breath was the only sound as Natalie left, the door closing behind her with a finality that echoed in the silence. Harper moved toward the door without looking back at Carmen. “I'll leave you to submit that reassignment request,” she said, her voice hollow.

The door closed behind her, leaving Carmen alone. Everything was broken now, and Carmen knew with devastating certainty that she was the one who'd broken it.

Carmen had barely begun to process the magnitude of what had happened when the door opened again. Natalie stepped back inside, her movements controlled in a way that suggested she was holding herself together through sheer professionalism.

"We need to talk," Natalie said. "Just us."

Carmen's legs felt unsteady as she moved away from the wall, smoothing down her blouse with trembling hands. "Natalie, I want you to know?—"

"How long?" Natalie's voice cut through Carmen's attempt at an explanation. "And I want the truth this time. All of it."

Carmen's throat constricted. She moved toward her desk chair, seeking the familiar anchor, but the distance felt meaningless when Natalie's unforgiving gaze followed her.

"It started the night before her first day," Carmen admitted, each word scraping against her vocal cords. "We met at Lavender's. I didn't know who she was. She lied about her name, her age, everything. I thought she was just...someone passing through town."

"And when you found out?"

Carmen closed her eyes, remembering the moment of recognition. "I tried to get her transferred. You know I did. Both you and Jo denied the request."

"Because you didn't tell me why you wanted her transferred.

" Natalie's voice was laced with betrayal.

"You let my daughter be assigned to work directly under someone who'd already slept with her.

You sat in my office and listened to me talk about how proud I was of her, how much I trusted you to mentor her properly. "

The memory felt like being flayed alive. Carmen could see herself nodding thoughtfully while Natalie had praised Harper's potential, offering appropriate responses about professional development while knowing she'd already crossed every ethical boundary they'd been trained to respect.

"I was trying to protect?—"

"Who?" Natalie's voice rose slightly. "Who exactly were you trying to protect, Carmen? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you were protecting your own comfort while letting my daughter believe she meant something to you."

"She does mean something to me." The words came out rougher than Carmen intended. "More than I've ever— Natalie, what Harper and I have isn't what you think it is."

"Then tell me what it is." Natalie moved closer to Carmen's desk. "Explain to me how the woman I've trusted with my most complex surgical cases decided it was appropriate to have a sexual relationship with my twenty-six-year-old daughter."

Carmen felt heat flood her cheeks. "It's not just sexual?—"

"No?" Natalie's eyebrows rose in challenge. "Then what is it, Carmen? Love? You think you're in love with a woman who's barely finished her medical training? Someone who's been in Phoenix Ridge for less than a month?"

The dismissive tone made Carmen's protective instincts flare despite her guilt. "Age doesn't determine the validity of someone's feelings. Harper is brilliant, mature, capable of making her own decisions?—"

"Harper is my daughter." Natalie's voice carried finality that made Carmen's argument die in her throat.

"She's been my responsibility since she was born, and she'll always be my priority.

That's what you don't seem to understand, Carmen.

This isn't just about professional ethics or hospital policies. This is about family."

Carmen stared at her friend across the desk, seeing the full scope of what she'd destroyed. Carmen had damaged the trust of someone who'd become like family to her, who'd supported her through the worst period of her career.

"I never meant for this to happen," Carmen whispered. "When I met her that night, I didn't know she was your daughter. I didn't know she was starting her internship, didn't know she'd be assigned to my rotation. By the time I realized..."

"By the time you realized, you should have ended it immediately. Instead, you chose to continue a relationship that put my daughter's career at risk."

"Her career was never at risk. Harper's surgical skills are exceptional. Her evaluations have been based entirely on her performance?—"

"How can you possibly believe that? Carmen, you've been sleeping with her. How can you evaluate her objectively? How can she trust that her advancement is based on merit rather than her ability to please you personally?"