Page 102 of The Exception

Abi nodded. “I know how much you appreciate rules, but the rules and standards of care exist only to guide us to the most reliable ways to help patients, not all of the right ways we can help. We are here to do whatever it takes to help our patients and sometimes that means there is more than one right way to do things.”

Sonya whispered, “Like orange juice or glucose tablets...”

Confusion creased Abi’s forehead. “Excuse me?”

“Never mind. I just… understand.”

“What Intern Travis did was outside of the rules but that’s not why you failed as his preceptor. You failed because when he demonstrated the commitment, care, and empathy for patients you instilled in him, however unorthodox, you didn’t stand with him.”

Abi’s words crashed over Sonya like a rogue wave leaving her completely wrecked in their wake. A tear slipped down her cheek and was quickly followed by more as her rule about not crying at work shattered into pieces.

She swatted at the tears and worked to collect herself. “Ididfail him, but I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Intern Travis will be fine. He’s doing well in ED and will graduate with his class in a few more weeks.”

While Sonya was relieved to hear that, it didn’t erase the regret and sadness she’d been carrying around with her since the split. Trav’s wins should be her wins, and not just because she was his preceptor, but because she cared about him. A lot.

Now when he finally saw the fruit of all of his hard work, she wouldn’t be there.

“I’m glad,” she sniffed. “He deserves it. He’s going to make a great paramedic.”

“He will,” Abi agreed. “And you’ll learn from this experience and be an even better nurse. More importantly, you’ll be an even better preceptor for the next intern.”

Abi was right and there’d been a time when Sonya would’ve used a statement like that as a motivator and one day, maybe she would again. Right now, there was only enough room for regret over the person she hadn’t been a better preceptor or a better partner for.

* * *

Sonya had two lucky breaks that night, depending on who was defining luck. One: Abi insisted on covering the rest of her rounds so Sonya could go home. And two: it had happened too late for Sonya to add herself to the dinner reservation Emma had made.

The last thing she wanted to do was put on a dress and pretend like she cared about a farm to table menu and locally sourced wine. Sorry, Emma.

Sonya thought maybe she’d never feel like pretending to care again. She would just spend her days laying on her new sofa, wishing she were on a crappy blow-up air mattress in Trav’s empty condo.

She stuck her spoon into a pint of mint chocolate chip and flipped on the TV. Maybe she’d run this off tomorrow, or maybe this was just her life now.

She was flipping through the channels when a voice from outside, followed by a loud knock, startled her. She dropped the spoon and it clattered to the coffee table.

“Open up, Sonya.”

Hushed voices seemed to argue before the same voice yelled again, “I’ve got four-inch heels on and I could do some serious damage to this door.”

Dani.

“Stop it. I have a key.”

Emma.

Sonya heard jingling and decided to save Emma the trouble of breaking and entering. What the hell were they doing?

She set her ice cream on the table and shuffled across the living room in her cotton pajama shorts and furry socks, opening the door to a trio of well-dressed women carrying wine.

“What is going on?”

“That question is better suited to you.” Dani pushed past her. “Nice socks.”

“We were supposed to be at dinner, but it wasn’t the same without you,” Cat said. She reached back and pulled a barrette out of her hair as she entered, letting big brown waves fall over her shoulder. “Do you have makeup wipes?”

Sonya watched her friends make themselves at home. “In the bathroom.”

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