Page 24 of Doctor One Night

“Those slides I showed you, they were from the animal subjects in this trial.”

“Oh, I had no idea. That is cool, how things have come full circle.”

What the fuck am I saying? I'm trying to be suave, but everything I say, every twitch of my eye, every clearing of my throat makes me seem like a complete novice.

There’s a weight to her words, something deeper than just professional dedication. I want to ask her more, to dig into what’s really driving her, but I hold back. This isn’t the time, and I’m not sure I’m ready to cross that line with her.

Instead, I nod and say, “Now that I know the context, I'll have to take another look.”

She smiles, and it’s genuine, the kind of smile that makes my chest tighten just a little. “Of course. You can come by any time, even if I'm not here. I've got everything cataloged and painstakingly labeled.”

With that, we dive back into the work. The banter between us lightens the mood, but the underlying tension never really goes away. It’s there in the way our shoulders brush when we both lean over the data, in the way her gaze lingers on me a fraction too long, in the way my pulse quickens whenever she’s near.

By the time we wrap up, it’s late, and the hospital has settled into its nighttime quiet. I pack up my things, as does Frankie. The easy conversation from earlier gives way to a comfortable silence.

Walking out of the conference room together, I get the strong sense that something’s shifting between us. It’s subtle, but it’s there in the way she looks at me, in the way I can’t stop thinking about her.

I’m not sure where this is going, but for now, I’m content to let it unfold. One late-night meeting at a time.

Tuesday, May 21

8:41 am

Hands in my pockets, I speed walk down the hall to grab a coffee after wrapping up a meeting when I spot Jonah Bellinger coming out of one of the ORs. He looks exhausted, which isn’t unusual after surgery. There’s something in his expression that tells me it didn’t go as smoothly as he would’ve liked.

“Jonah,” I call out, and he glances up, his shoulders sagging a little with the weight of whatever just happened. “Somebody kick your ass in there?”

“Hunter,” he replies, offering a tired smile. “Just the man I wanted to see. You should see the other guy.”

I slow my pace as I approach him, catching the tightness around his eyes. “Everything alright?”

He lets out a long breath as he joins me on my walk. “Had a complication during the surgery. The patient’s heart started to go into atrial fibrillation halfway through. Threw off the whole rhythm of the operation.”

Atrial fibrillation—an irregular, often rapid heart rate that can cause poor blood flow. It’s a common enough issue, but during surgery, it can be a real nightmare. “Did you manage to stabilize them?”

We both get on the elevator together and I push eleven. He nods his head indicating he is going to the same.

“Yeah, eventually,” Jonah says, leaning against the wall as if he needs the extra support. “But it took longer than it should have. I used amiodarone, but it didn’t work as quickly as I expected. By the time we got the heart rate under control, we were already behind. I can’t help thinking there might have been a better way to handle it.”

I nod, understanding his frustration. “Amiodarone is a good first line, but in the middle of surgery, you don’t always have time to wait for it to kick in. Next time, consider using an intraoperative cardioversion if the patient’s stable enough. It’s quicker and can reset the heart rhythm almost immediately.”

Jonah’s brow furrows as he absorbs the information. “Intraoperative cardioversion… Why didn’t I think of that?”

“It’s not always the first thing that comes to mind, especially when you’re focused on the surgery itself,” I reply, trying to reassure him. “But it’s a good tool to have in your back pocket when you’re dealing with something like this.”

He nods slowly, his expression thoughtful. “I’ll keep that in mind. That's a good one to file away. Thanks, man.”

“No problem,” I say, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “It happens to the best of us. And while you’re the worst of us…”

“Nice one.”

We make our way to the top floor, both of us in need of a caffeine boost for the morning. We grab our coffees from the counter and head out to the balcony, where the warm May air hits us like a wall. Even up here, with the breeze, it’s going to be a scorcher—another reminder that summer in Birmingham is already here.

We lean against the railing, the city sprawled out below us, the hum of traffic barely audible from this height. I take a sip of my coffee, letting the bitter warmth wake me up a little more.

Jonah glances at me, a smirk playing on his lips. “So, you bringing a prostitute to the to the gala? Figured that’s the only way you’ll get a date.”

“Hilarious. That’s your style not mine, remember?”

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