Unethical (20 page)

Andrew shot me a look, and his shoulders slumped as he walked toward his father, like a little kid being sent to his room.

Dr. Centafont followed Andrew into the exam room and shut the door behind him. He always came off as a pretty docile person, but the murderous glare he gave his son a few moments ago had me worried for Andrew’s safety.

Blake put his hand on my shoulder and rubbed his thumb along the hem of my collar. “Did he hurt you?”

“No. But I think he’s hyped up on something.”

“I don’t think that was Adderall.”

“Neither do I.” I let out a shaky breath and turned to him. “What do you think is gonna happen?”

“I have no clue. Depends on if he’s willing to brush this under the rug. He has to know how he’s getting all that Adderall.”

I nodded and stared at the exam room, waiting to hear something, maybe a shout or scream, but there was nothing.
Nothing
seemed a whole lot scarier than yelling. Brittany came back to the nurses’ station and looked from me to Blake. “Who died?”

“Huh?”

“You both look like you just saw a ghost or something.”

I said, “It’s just been a long day.” A very long day.

“Could you both go to the fifth floor? They need some people to help restock their station.”

“Sure.”

We both walked to the elevator. The doors had just about closed when a hand pushed them open. Other than blotchy cheeks, Dr. Centafont had transformed back to his usual calm demeanor.

“May I speak with you for a minute, Payton?”

Blood pounded in my ears as I looked from Blake to Dr. Centafont. I stood there, dumbfounded, wondering why he needed to talk to me. Was he going to tell me I failed my debate speech and, therefore, I’d need to retake the class? Would he blame me for Andrew being messed up? That I hadn’t told him what his son had been doing? Blake pressed his hand against my lower back and pushed me toward the entrance of the elevator.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. “Sure.”

We strolled down the hallway, the silence hanging heavy in the air. My heart pounded three times between each step, and I breathed past the bile climbing my throat. Ohmigod, what if I
had
failed the class? I’d totally be screwed over for med school applications.

He stopped abruptly and turned to me. Clasping his arms behind his back, he regarded me with unease.

“I’m sorry my son has…” He paused as if choosing his words wisely, “dragged you and your friend into his business.” His lips curled as he said this, like the actual words soured his taste buds. “I had no idea what he was into. It seems we can’t always judge people by their family members.” His mouth tipped up in the corner.

My heart skipped two beats. Was he apologizing? Did this mean I wasn’t going to fail class and I still had a chance to get into med school at Drexler? “I guess so, Dr. Centafont.”

“What you did today was brave. I’ve said some unwarranted things about your father. I assume you already know that we went to medical school together.”

I nodded.

“Your dad was a good man back then, even if I didn’t treat him that way. Smart guy; I’m sure he was a great doctor.”

“He was.”
Where’s this going, Dr. Centafont?

He let out a soft sigh. “Sometimes it’s hard to put aside biases when you practice medicine. When my mother, who lived in Oregon, decided to go by assisted suicide, I let my feelings about her death influence a lot of what I said in class. I’ve said some very hurtful things, and I’m very sorry, Payton.”

Holy crap.
The guy who could decide my future was apologizing to me. “I’m sorry for your loss. And don’t worry about it; apology accepted.”

“Your hard work ethic has really shone through in this internship. I think you would make a great candidate for the medical school. Have you thought about applying here?”

I eyed him suspiciously. Was there going to be a “but”? There was always a “but.” “Yes, I have.”

“You will need some letters of recommendation.”

“Yes.”

“I’d be more than happy to give you a glowing recommendation.”

Was I stroking out? Had I heard him correctly? The president of the Dr. Cooper Haters Club really wanted to write me a letter of rec?

“Really?” After that whole fiasco this morning in class, I accepted that I’d be rejected by the board of admissions.

“Yes, it takes a person who sticks to their morals to be a truly great doctor.”

My heart swelled at his compliment. He believed in me. He thought I’d make a good doctor. “Thank you, Dr. Centafont.”

He nodded and shook my hand.

“I’ll see you at the final next week.” He walked down the hall and went into an exam room.

The final pieces in my heart melded together. I had a future. At Drexler.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Blake

“Go ahead, open it,” Payton squeaked. I hadn’t even made it into her apartment door before she grilled me.

Easy for her to give me a hard time. She’d already been admitted into the med school program at Drexler when she applied for early admission.

The letter had arrived in the mail this morning, and it’d been sitting on my desk all day. All of my interviews had gone well, and I knew my answers on the application packet were pretty bomb. But a little part of me still doubted I’d make it into the program, especially with scholarships.

I made my way into the living room and smiled. She had her parents’ wedding photo sitting on the end table, along with a newer one of her and her dad at the prison. She’d finally made amends with him, and she stopped having those crazy nightmares. He’d be out in another five years, just in time to see her graduate from med school.

Someday, I hoped a picture of us at our wedding would be up on our very own end table. I knew this would happen someday. She was the only girl I had ever loved.

Jules cleared her throat, taking me out of my fantasy of the future.

“C’mon, Blake. Don’t leave us hangin’,” Jules said.

Again, easy for her to say. She got her admission letter this morning, and they said yes. She had just returned from rehab a few weeks ago. They let her take classes online while she received help for her addiction.

She rocked back and forth in the gamer chair, hogging the fan. There were two weeks left of spring semester, and it was unusually hot for June. Payton’s apartment didn’t have AC, and I was sweating my balls off.

“Jeez, ladies. So eager.” I had already been accepted to two other med programs, but this was the one I wanted most. I wanted to graduate with Payton, our future just starting.

Things had settled down once Andrew was kicked out of the frat. The university put him on academic probation, and he wasn’t allowed to major in anything that involved pills when he returned.

Even if I didn’t get in, I still had a lot going for me. I was just elected chapter president, I got Payton back, and I earned a sweet scholarship for my senior year.

I slowly opened the letter, and Payton’s impatient breath brushed against my ear as she leaned over the sofa, trying to read the letter.

“Excuse me.” I hid the letter from her, and she let out an exasperated huff.

“Fine, I’ll give you your privacy.” She moved a few inches away, far enough where I couldn’t feel her breath anymore, but close enough she could read the letter.

Unfolding it, I read the first word.
Congratulations.

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Acknowledgments

I have a lot of people who helped me get Unethical to where it is today. First and foremost, I want to say thank you to my amazing editor, Nicole Steinhaus. I am forever grateful that you took a chance on my book. You deserve an Olympic medal for putting up with my barrage of emails and questions. Your feedback has shaped this book into something so much better than I could have ever imagined. Also a big shout out to Karen Grove for feedback in the initial stages, Debbie Suzuki, my fabulous publicist, Brittany Marczak and Heather Howland, cover artists extraordinaire, Liz, and the rest of the team at Entangled.

Courtney Miller-Callihan, my rock star agent, I am so thankful for your guidance throughout the whole publication process. You have been a shoulder to cry on and a great sounding board. I am so happy to have you by my side as I embark on my writing career.

My critique partners Jess Harvey, Rene Gilley, and Lia Riley, I don’t think I would have made it through this process without you. You were the ones who dried my tears when I received the tough rejections, the first people to squee with me about my successes, and I know I can always count on you to give it to me straight. Infinite x’s and o’s.

Mom and Dad, thank you for always being so supportive. Also, thank you for pushing me into the medical field in college. Without that, I don’t think this book would have happened. Also, thank you, Dad, for answering my very cryptic calls about what ifs in regards to medical laws, ethics, and assisted suicide. (I’m sure that was somewhat concerning, but I swear it was just research!)

Sher, thank you for being the best sister a girl could ever ask for. And thank you for reading my early draft.

Khara, I think you’ve read the early draft close to one million times. Thank you, thank you, thank you for your feedback, information about jails, and all the time you took to check for grammatical errors.

My beloved ‘14 NA debut group, people say that being part of a debut group is crucial for new writers. I now know this is the best advice I’ve ever received. Thank you for keeping me sane throughout the whole process. It’s always nice to know we are going through the same thing together. I am showering you with buckets of Bigfoot love!

Authors AJ Pine, Natalie Blitt, Megan Erickson, and Amy Trueblood, your friendship has been my savior. You are my people. Thank you for always putting a smile on my face.

The Twitter community, I love all the support and great people I have met over the past year. Thank you for keeping me stocked with coffee, laughs, and, ahem, inspirational pictures.

Grandma, I love you and thank you for all the support! I love our letters and talks on the phone. You are a strong woman and an inspiration.

Marie, Ashley, Khara (you get two shout outs!), and Maya, my college besties. A lot of my inspiration for Unethical came from the stupid stuff we did in college. Those memories will always stick with me. Love you guys.

Delilah Marvelle, thank you for introducing me to RWA. Without that, I would not have this book or my critique partners.

My in-laws, Pam, Jeff, Shelby, Joel, Jean Marie, Sharon, Lisa, and Maggie, thank you for being so supportive and always asking about my books. It means the world to me.

L- my little man, you’re growing up so fast. Your hugs and smiles get me through the day and keep me going even when I feel like calling it quits.

And last, but certainly not least, my husband, Justin. I love you. Thank you for late night Blizzard runs, cooked meals, and not caring if I didn’t do the dishes because I was busy writing. You are the yin to my neurotic yang. This book would never have been written without your 110% support and encouragement.

About the Author

Jennifer Blackwood is an English teacher and New Adult author. She lives in Oregon with her husband, son, and poorly behaved black lab puppy. When she isn’t writing or teaching, she’s binging on Veronica Mars episodes and white cheddar popcorn.

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