by Eva Luxe
What the hell am I doing?
I hope to God that Jensen’s wrong, that this really is a real thing and that real things can actually last. Could I be fooling myself?
Hell, just a couple weeks ago I thought this “mystery woman” was my worst enemy. So, what if I really am literally sleeping with the enemy?
As I hear her breath slow down, and feel the relaxed comfort of the side of her hip in one of my hands and her soft, gorgeous brown hair in the other, I know I’m not going anywhere tonight.
If I’m sleeping with the enemy, at least we just had out-of-this-world sex, and at least I’ll have sweet dreams before I wake up to my real-life nightmare.
Chapter 36 – Whitney
The first thing I see when I walk into my office is Dr. Davis.
He’s sitting in my office chair. I freeze in the doorway, before saying a startled, “Hello?”
“Whitney,” he says, and beckons at me to come in. “How nice to see you today. Please close the door.”
I do it, if only out of complete shock. He’s acting like this is his office.
Who let him in here? Who is allowing him to do this?
The questions fly through my mind faster than any answers can come. But it’s obvious that he has more power and control here than I thought he did. I’d best tread carefully.
I obediently sit down at the chair in front of my desk, which is supposed to be for patients. I wonder if Dr. Davis somehow knows what Harlow and I have been up to.
Would Harlow have told him? Does he somehow have Harlow on some sort of high-tech top-secret surveillance? He sure does seem to keep close tabs on him.
Dr. Davis is staring at me suspiciously, as if wondering how I’m going to play this. So, I decide to play it cool— pick up where I’d left off with Dr. Davis, or tried to anyway— and not show any of my fear. Not that that’s as easy as it sounds when the plan first crosses my mind.
“I’m so glad you’re here, too, Dr. Davis,” I say, taking a moment to regain my composure. I sit up straight in my chair and smile at him, as if nothing in the world is wrong. As if I didn’t just have sex with his prodigy patient. “I left you a message, and was hoping you’d get back to me soon about that. So, thank you.”
“Yes, I’m here to discuss Harlow, of course,” he says. “Which is something that obviously needs to happen.”
“Obviously,” I say, trying to suppress a gulp.
Is it possible that he’s really just here to discuss my voicemail and Harlow’s treatment plan? Could I be worrying for nothing?
I try to relax.
But I can’t. Harlow had told me not to worry until something happened, and now something is happening— or might be— so I’m really worried.
“He’s obviously not improving while working with you,” Dr. Davis says, with a frown.
“I’m sorry. He’s… what?”
“Not improving. Your message and your charts and notes are quite clear. We need to step up Harlow’s training. Have him work with someone more experienced, who can hopefully get better results out of him.”
“Not improving? Dr. Davis, I don’t think you heard my voicemail correctly…”
“Of course I did. But I’m beginning to think you’re the one who isn’t hearing me.”
He leans back in his chair— my chair— and crosses his arms across his chest. I’m beginning to realize that the situation is worse than I could have possibly thought.
“Dr. Davis,” I say, trying to sound firm and bold, as I pick up Harlow’s file that he had left in front of him on my desk, “My notes have well documented that…”
“…that Harlow is behind in many areas.” Dr. Davis finishes the sentence I had started—but he finishes it incorrectly. “And that he needs a lot of extra therapy.”
I flip frantically through the pages, until I find some of my notes. Except, they’re not my notes. They have my signature attached to them, but they are not what I put into the system.
I had printed out my notes to go over them with Lance and Dr. Davis. So at least I know I have the originals, but these are not them. Where I had given Harlow glowing reviews on his assessments, this imposter’s copy shows that he is lacking in many areas.
“I… I don’t understand…” I falter, at the same time that I’m beginning to realize that I do understand.
At first, I think that someone must have mistakenly switched my notes in Harlow’s file with those of a different patient. Then, broaching the possibility in my mind that it was something more nefarious, I begin to think that someone purposefully changed them.
But then I realize that that “someone” was Dr. Davis. And the light must dawn in my eyes, because he nods his head at me knowingly.
“Of course you understand,” he says. “You know exactly where Harlow stands. Even though you may have wanted to exaggerate how well he’s doing since you have a romantic interest in him. You know that’s not what’s best for the patient. You have to be truthful even when you wish the patients were doing better than they are.”
“Dr. Davis, these are not my notes,” I begin to say, feeling my face redden with heat and anger.
I was right about him all along, and I should have trusted my initial instincts. I’m determined to stand up to him.
At first, I thought he was lying about how far Harlow had come in his recovery but now I realize that for some reason he’s lying about how little progress Harlow has made. It makes no sense, but I’m certain I can get to the bottom of it.
“Yes, they are your notes,” he says, leaning forward to glare at me. “And we can work this one of two ways. A way that’s good for you, or a way that’s bad for you.”
He cocks his head to the side, to make sure I’m listening.
“I got a little call from someone who reported seeing you on a date with your patient, Ms. Reid,” he says, shaking his head and adding, tsk, tsk tsk. “You know that’s against company policy.”
“What…?” I ask. “Who would…?”
I stop, because I’ve already figured it out. Angela must have told Tony that she saw Harlow and me and Apothecary, and then Tony must have called and ratted me out to Dr. Davis. That asshole. He can’t just leave in peace; he has to kick up drama as he goes.
“Exactly,” Dr. Davis says, as he realizes that I know who reported me. “I recall a very public and unprofessional fight with that love interest recently here at the office. You obviously can’t be trusted to keep your personal and professional lives separate, and you’re dating a patient.”
He says tsk, tsk, tsk but I protest.
“Dr. Davis, Harlow and I are not… ummm….”
I falter, not knowing the appropriate way to say “having sex” in this context.
“It doesn’t matter,” Dr. Davis says. “That’s only one of many issues you’ll have to face should you not do what I want. And even if the caller hadn’t reported it, I’d have my ways of finding out. I know everything that goes on here.”
“What exactly are you saying?” I ask him, wondering if he hired Tony or his cohorts to spy on me.
I wouldn’t put it past him to do that, or past Tony to agree. I did think it was strange that Angela would be at Apothecary, which isn’t normally her type of scene, but I thought maybe she was there for a special occasion.
“I’m sure you know that I have everyone in this place in my back pocket,” Dr. Davis continues. “They listen to anything and everything I say. So, it all depends on how you want me to spin this. I can go out there and tell your boss that we had a nice chat and I appreciate the work you’ve done with Harlow but that you and I have decided he needs a higher level of treatment. I will give a glowing performance review and recommend that they keep you around here, for your ability to help Harlow as much as you could and to recognize when he needs very experienced care.”
Dr. Davis clears his throat, and then continues.
“Or I can go tell them that you don’t know what you’re doing, that you slowed down Harlow’s
progress even more, due to a relationship you’re involved in with him, which I have documented proof of a phone call informing me about, and that you should be terminated immediately,” Dr. Davis threatens. “And just what do you think they will do if I tell them that?”
I look at him, but don’t say anything.
I know they would terminate me. He’s right. He’s like a God around here and I’m a brand new intern.
Now it makes sense as to why he chose me to work with Harlow. He thought he could intimidate me into doing whatever he wants. He’s since realized I won’t, but he doesn’t care because he knows they’ll never believe me over him. So, he just threatens to get me fired if I dare challenge him.
“Whitney? Are you alright? Or did our friendly little chat scare you?”
I just sit here, not saying anything. I don’t know what there is to say at this point, as he’s clearly got me right where he wants me.
“There, there,” he says, getting up from my desk and walking around to pat me on my shoulders. “I knew you’d see it my way. Everyone always does. I’ll just go out there and let them know that we had this nice little talk. You do know, that if you wish to continue working here, you shouldn’t contact Harlow at all. He needs to focus on getting better, not on relationship drama.”
“I— Dr. Davis,”
I gulp, truly not knowing what to say. My internship and career are clearly on the line, but so is this budding… whatever it is… that I have with Harlow. I know I’d be stupid to choose a guy I just met over my future.
But I can’t help but wonder if I should. It bothers me that this doctor is blackmailing me like this, but I can’t see any way out of it right now. I need time to think and plan.
“Which option will it be, Whitney?”
When I still don’t answer, because I figure it best to say nothing than to get myself into more hot water with whatever might come out of my mouth, Dr. Davis says, “I’ll go with Option A for the time being, but if I hear one little protesting squeak out of you, or any reason to think you’re still carrying on this ridiculous, torrid affair with Harlow, I’ll be sure to have Plan B as a backup.”
And with that, he leaves my office, taking my courage and dignity along with him.
Chapter 37 – Harlow
Even though I have to work for Dr. Davis today, I’m so happy I could fucking whistle while I do it. And whistling, like cuddling, is another thing I never fucking do. Or never used to do.
I’m still on cloud nine from my night with Whitney, and looking forward to seeing her again. For once, I don’t even care that she’s been the subject of my every waking thought.
And I’m also excited to talk to Dr. Davis about my physical therapy results. Whitney had mentioned a wrinkle— something about Dr. Davis thinking we shouldn’t work together— but I know I can iron it out. It must be a misunderstanding that a chat with Dr. Davis should easily clear up.
When I go to knock on his door, he’s already in his office, and waves me in as if he was expecting me.
“Hello, Harlow,” he says, in a serious tone.
“Hey Doc. What’s up? Were you able to talk with—”
“With Whitney Reid?” He asks, with a knowing nod. “Yes, and as a matter of fact, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Okay, good,” I say, sitting down.
“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Harlow,” he says, a frown spreading across his face. “But please don’t be mad at the messenger. Whitney has reported that your progress is slower than she would expect and that you need even more work than she is able to provide you with at this time, being a new intern and everything.”
“She? What?”
I can’t believe it. I have no idea what’s going on, but there has to be some explanation.
“That’s not at all what she’s been saying to me,” I tell him, racking my brain to find some explanation.
“Well, here it is in black and white,” he says, handing me my file. “And from what I’ve seen and heard at the facility, it appears that Ms. Reid has a little crush on you. So maybe she’s not as forthcoming with you as she was with me, or she just can’t help but tell you what you want to hear. She seems to me to be a little weak, like someone who always plays it safe. So, who knows what she’s really thinking? People like that are squirrely.”
I look down at the notes from Whitney, which definitely lay out a different story than she’s been telling me. She had said she had given me all 9’s and 10’s for aptitude but her charts document 2’s and 3’s at best. Her notes state that I’m basically incapable of doing anything I’m supposed to be able to do.
I scratch my head, perplexed.
“But Dr. Davis,” I protest, suddenly finding half my brain. “It’s not just that she told me that I was able to do these things. It’s that, I was literally, actually, able to do them. I ran these distances in much shorter times than are shown here.”
“According to whom?” Dr. Davis asks, raising his eyebrows at me.
Fuck. Of course Whitney had been the one with the stopwatch. But why would she fudge my times? Why would she tell me I’m doing great, and tell Dr. Davis I’m doing so poorly?
I know she didn’t lie about my progress. I know I’m in tip top shape, almost as good as I was before the accident. But obviously Dr. Davis doesn’t believe me because Whitney’s notes say differently. And why would they say differently?
I stand up, angrily pushing my chair against Dr. Davis’ desk. I have to go talk some sense into her.
“Look, Harlow,” Dr. Davis says, clearing his throat. “I don’t know what’s going on with that woman but I have to give her the benefit of the doubt. You’ve been accusing me of holding you back but now her notes show that you’re not ready.”
He smirks at me, as if his plan makes perfect sense and I should thank him. He definitely knows I’m interested in Whitney— he probably correctly assumes I’ve fucked her. But he also knows I’m a player, so he thinks I’ll forget about her and move on for the sake of my career as a SEAL. He’s underestimating my level of commitment on multiple levels.
“So, let’s just concentrate on going forward from here,” he continues. “You think you’re ready and this physical therapist did not, but she’s only an intern. So, you’re being re-assigned, and certainly another physical therapist— a real, actual one— will be able to give us some clarity. Some insight into this situation. Maybe the truth lies somewhere in between what Ms. Reid— who is obviously goo-goo-ga-ga over you— thinks your abilities are, and what you think your abilities are. We’ll find out soon enough, and we can address this head-on.”
He’s playing on my normal instincts to cut and run, but I’m not going to do that this time. I need to figure out why he’s saying I’m less advanced then I am. And I need to get through this with Whitney no matter what.
“Oh, and another thing,” Dr. Davis says, raising his eyebrows innocently. “When I talked to Whitney this morning, she said she never wants to hear from you again. I wouldn’t advise calling her or trying to contact her, as she will only ignore you, and you don’t want to look like a fool.”
I stare at him. If he’s right about that then Whitney must be telling me one thing— which I definitely think is the truth— and writing down another thing just to hold me back. She’s used to dating losers like Tony so maybe she was looking for a reason to keep me along longer. Maybe she doesn’t even want me to go back into the military because then I’ll have to go overseas.
Why would he tell me so confidently not to contact her unless he was sure she wouldn’t answer me? If so, then talking to her isn’t going to do any good. I really was sleeping with the enemy.
Now the events and outbursts the last time I saw Whitney were starting to add up. Dr. Davis must have found out how badly she reported that our sessions were going and started the process of switching me over to another physical therapist.
Whitney was probably shocked he’d taken action against her, and
was sure I’d find out. That’s why she was so nervous, and had tried to call things off with me.
Is that right? I wonder.
I’m so confused, and have no idea what to think. I don’t want to doubt Whitney, but I also don’t want to be a fool just because I fell in love with her.
Fuck.
I fell in love with her.
I’m no better than my dad— not thinking clearly because I’m so in love with a woman who isn’t any good for me. Is that what’s going on here? It can’t be. Or is it?
“All right,” I tell Dr. Davis, at a loss for anything better to say.
I guess he wins. Whitney wins. Everyone wins but me.
I storm out of his office, determined to never talk to Whitney again. I wish I never would have talked her into being with me in the first place.
I never should have fallen for her, no matter how hot her damn ass is.
Chapter 38 – Harlow
Today is my dad’s birthday. And it’s also the day that Jesse Morrow, the airmen I met at the office, is having surgery. I feel that it’s fitting to swing by the hospital and honor Jesse’s request that I be there, before I honor my dad’s memory with my brothers.
I hope that things go well for Jesse, because otherwise it’s been a sad time for me. I can’t help but wish that Whitney was here by my side. Then I have to remind myself that she’s the enemy.
I tell the receptionist that I’m an employee of Dr. Davis’ and she lets me through to the surgery ward. Peering through the glass windows, I can see that Jesse is out of surgery, but just barely so. He looks groggy and is hooked up to machines.
I open the door and gently slip inside. Dr. Davis isn’t here.
Lance is here though— Whitney’s boss— and there’s a nurse in the room too.
“Hi Lance,” I whisper, surprised to see him here. He looks just as surprised to see me here, and understandably so.
“Harlow,” he says. “Nice to see you. This is my sister Mae. She works here as a nurse.”
