Page 1 of Doctor One Night

ONE

Frankie

Tuesday, October 3, 2023

UAB Hospital

1802 6th Ave S, Birmingham

9:04 pm

Alone in the lab, I bend over the microscope, completely absorbed in the delicate patterns the cells form under the lens. That’s how I prefer it and avoid coming in during the day if I can help it.

The hours have slipped away unnoticed, and I don’t mind one bit. There’s something almost meditative about this work—just me, the slides, and the steady cadence of my thoughts.

This newest discovery has me all excited about what this means for my research. I’ve pored over it for more than an hour now and I still can’t get enough.

I jump when I hear the door open with a quiet click. I whip around, not expecting anyone. It’s Dr. Hunter Parrish, fresh from the OR, looking like he’s just been through hell and back.

His scrub cap is gone, revealing dirty blonde hair that’s tousled as if he’s run his hands through it a dozen times. His blue eyes have that tired but sharp look I’ve seen before—focused, intense, self-assured. He’s a big deal around here, a cardiothoracic surgeon with a reputation as solid as the square jaw he’s currently clenching.

But it’s not just his reputation that makes my breath catch. He’s not wearing his white coat, and for the first time, I can see the tattoos that cover his muscular arms.

I’m mesmerized by the intricate designs that snake down them. It’s a side of him he usually keeps hidden, and the contrast between this inked-up, rugged version of him and the buttoned-up doctor I’ve seen around occasionally is overwhelming in the best possible way. “Dr. Renna,” he says, his voice low and a little rough, probably from hours of barking orders in the OR. “What are you doing here so late?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” I reply, managing a smile even though my heart’s doing a weird little flutter in my chest. Maybe I’m the one who needs cardiothoracic surgery.

“Long surgery?” I ask casually, or at least that’s what I’m aiming for.

He nods, stepping closer to the microscope station where I’m seated. “Transplant. It took longer than expected. I’m just here to pick up some blood work results for my patient before heading home.”

I gesture to the computer. “They should be in the system now. I’ll pull them up for you.” I stand and walk over to the computer and he follows close behind.

As I navigate the lab’s database, I’m hyper-aware of his presence next to me. He’s close enough that I can sense the heat radiating off him, close enough that I can see the faint shadow of stubble on his jaw, the way it contrasts with his usually put together appearance.

God, he’s handsome. The kind of handsome that makes you forget how to breathe for a second.

“Here we go,” I say, finding the results and bringing them up on the screen. “Looks like everything’s in order. I’ll put them in MyChart now.”

He leans in, scanning the data, and I catch a whiff of him—clean, with a hint of something darker, more earthy, an expensive smelling-cologne that suits him perfectly. “Good,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me, it seems. Then his eyes flick to mine, and there’s something staring back at me. It’s something that wasn’t there a moment before. A spark of interest, maybe, or curiosity.

“Do you always work at night?” he asks, his voice softening ever so slightly, like he’s genuinely curious. He pulls up a stool next to me and leans in as if we are two old friends catching up. The truth is, I hardly know the man. I just admire him from afar every once in a while when I catch sight of him.

“Not usually,” I admit, tearing my gaze away from him to focus on the screen, trying to regain some composure. “I normally work from home, analyzing data from my computer. But this,” I gesture to the slide under the microscope, “was too fascinating to stay away from. I had to see it for myself.”

He nods, and for a moment, the professional veneer drops just a little. “I get that. Sometimes you just need to be there, see with your own eyes.”

I glance up at him again, and there it is—the tattoos, the tired but strong set of his handsome, broad shoulders, the way he’s looking at me like he’s actually seeing me… Something about him here, the late hour, that no one else is here, makes my my panties wet.

“You should see them,” I say before I can think better of it. “The cells. They’re incredible. Want to take a look? It’s not every day you get to see medical advancement in real time.”

He smiles, and it’s not the polite, distant smile I’ve seen him out give a hundred times to patients, or coworkers. It’s something warmer, something real. “Sure. Let me see what has you all excited.”

Look in the mirror, I want to say. Instead, I move aside as he leans in. I have to resist the urge to run my hands through his messy dirty blonde hair. He straightens up, his interest clearly piqued. “What exactly am I looking at?”

I gesture toward the microscope. “It’s cardiac tissue from a patient who’s been on the new anti-inflammatory protocol. What you’re seeing are the effects of early-stage myocardial infarction—heart attack. I’ve been tracking the inflammatory markers, and the results are… well, I think they could be groundbreaking.”

His eyebrows lift slightly as he bends back down to the microscope. “Groundbreaking, how?”

---