Page 67 of Doctor One Night

She nods, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “What do you say about grabbing a pizza and taking it back to my place?”

“I can't think of a better idea,” I respond a little too eagerly. Suddenly the sky seems to open just a little. With Frankie's blessing and willingness, if we can solve at least one thing hanging over me, I will call that a win.

Now, for pizza. And, more importantly, dessert…

TWENTY-THREE

Frankie

8:34 pm

The string lights cast a warm, inviting light over the screened-in porch as Hunter and I settle into the cushioned chairs, each holding a glass of wine. The night air is warm, but the gentle breeze created by the ceiling fan creates the perfect temperature. It’s peaceful here, and for the first time today, I can actually relax.

The quiet sounds of the night settle in around us as my mind races with memories of my mom. All of this has stirred up so much of that painful time.

I think about those final days, watching her wither away, her heart betraying her, and the helplessness that consumed me. If there had been anything that could have given her a little more time, a few more months, even a year, I would have fought tooth and nail to get it for her.

Unfortunately, by the time the doctors identified the problem, there wasn’t. We didn’t have options back then. The resources weren’t there. I was barely an adult, watching the strongest person I’d ever known, my best friend, slip away because her heart couldn’t keep up.

Now, sitting here with Hunter, knowing Grace’s life is hanging in the balance, I know helping Grace is the right thing to do. She’s someone’s mother, someone’s friend, an institution at the hospital, and I have the chance to help.

It’s true, the trial isn’t ready, and there are risks to doing this. But how could I look at Grace, or anyone else, and say I didn’t try when I had this device that could change everything? It’s personal. If this were my mom, dying before my eyes, I wouldn’t have hesitated for a second. I won’t let Grace go like that if I can help it.

I glance at Hunter and know I have to make the call. For the first time, I know it’s the right one. I won’t let Grace’s story end like my mom’s. Not if there’s a chance this device could save her.

The pizza is long gone, both of us hungry after our full and busy day, and now, with the food cleared away and the wine flowing, everything’s just… easy. Uncomplicated. Like this is exactly where we’re supposed to be.

I marvel at Hunter, taking in the way the ambient light plays across his features. His normal, intense expression is softer at night when we are together like this. He looks content, almost at ease, which I never see at the hospital. It pleases me to know he’s let his guard down, even if it's only fleeting.

“Thanks for the pizza,” I say, breaking the comfortable silence. “It hit the spot.”

He chuckles, his gaze meeting mine. “It was a good call. Sometimes you just need something simple.”

“Simple but perfect,” I agree, taking a sip of my wine. The rich, fruity flavor rolls over my tongue, and I savor it, savor this moment.

We fall back into silence, but it’s not the awkward kind. It’s the kind of silence that sneaks up on you when you least expect it, where words aren’t necessary. The warmth of the wine spreads through me. Being here with Hunter, just like this, is perfection.

The comfortable tranquility stretches between us as we find some things to laugh about together. For once, we don't talk about the trial or cancer or heart disease.

The night settles in around us like a warm blanket. The wine has done its job, loosening the knots of tension that continue to battle within me, and I'm content.

“I should probably get going,” Hunter finally says, his voice soft, almost reluctant. “It’s been a long day. I know you probably want to get some rest, too.”

“Yeah,” I agree, though part of me wishes we could just stay here a little longer. Suddenly, I'm a child again, not wanting the night to end, for my easy friend to abandon me. But I'm not bold enough to say so. “I’m pretty wiped too.”

As we move inside, I grab our empty wine glasses and head to the sink. Hunter lingers by the door, pulling out his phone to check it. I rinse the glasses, the sound of the running water filling the space between us, and I can’t help but feel like this moment is slipping away too quickly.

I dry my hands on a towel, turning to find Hunter still glued to his phone, his expression distant, as if he’s already halfway out the door. He’s focused, almost too focused, on leaving, and it stings a little more than I’d like to admit.

“Everything okay?”

“Oh, yes. Sorry. I had a few texts and a missed call from my mom.”

Oh, how I'd love to have a missed call from my mom. The thought leaves a lump in my throat.

His hand reaches for the door knob when he turns to say something. Maybe he wants to stay?

“Thanks, again, for a great night. I really enjoy spending time with you.”

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