Page 45 of Doctor One Night

“You don’t have to thank me,” she replies, resting her head against my chest again. “I’m here for you, Hunter. Whatever you need.”

We lie there in the quiet, her hand still moving gently on my skin, and for the first time in a long time, I know I’m not alone in this. Like maybe, just maybe, it’s okay to let someone in.

The world outside doesn’t matter right now. It’s just us, here in this moment, and for once, I’m not scared of what comes next.

6:12 am

The lightening sky outside nudges me out of my sleep. My body is used to waking early during the week, and doesn't allow me to sleep in even on the weekends.

I lie in Frankie's bed for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. My mind races even though the rest of the world is still asleep. The warmth of Frankie’s body is pressed against my side, her breathing deep and even as she sleeps peacefully beside me.

But I’m anything but peaceful.

Our intense union plays on a loop in my mind—the ferocity, the passion, the way we came together like we were the only two people in the world. It’s like the first time, the time that almost seemed forgotten, was the preface to what was to come.

It was a test and I failed.

It was a mistake.

The excitement of the evening, the adrenaline from securing a sponsor—I let it cloud my judgment. And now, in the cold light of morning, all I can think about is how reckless it was to let her in like that, to cross that line. Again.

I turn my head slightly, looking at her. Even in sleep, she’s beautiful—her dark hair against the white pillow, the rise and fall of her chest steady and calm. There’s a part of me that wants to reach out, to touch her, to relive the connection we had just hours ago.

But I know better. This is a slippery slope, one that I can’t afford to go down. I don’t have the time or the emotional bandwidth for a relationship, especially not with a coworker. Especially not with Frankie.

What the hell was I thinking?

I exhale slowly, trying to ease the rigidness in my body. I can’t stay here. I need to get out, clear my head, and put some distance between us before things get any more complicated. It’s better this way, for both of us.

Carefully, I shift away from her, moving slowly so I don’t wake her. The last thing I need is a conversation right now, especially one where I have to explain why I’m leaving. She deserves better than some half-assed excuse, but I don’t have the emotional tools to give her anything else.

As I slide out of bed, I glance over at her one last time. There’s a pang of guilt, or is it regret? I push it down, forcing myself to focus on the bigger picture. This isn’t about her, or even about last night. This is about me and the bubble I’ve created for myself to keep from getting too involved with anyone.

I grab my clothes from the floor, quickly pulling them on. My movements are quiet, careful, every sense on high alert in case she stirs. I can’t let this turn into something more than what it was—a mistake and something that can never happen again.

Once I’m dressed, I slip out of the bedroom, closing the door behind me as softly as I can. I move through her house quickly, my phone already in my hand as I pull up the Uber app. The sooner I’m out of here, the better.

I step outside, quietly pulling the front door closed. As I wait for the car to arrive, I can’t help but acknowledge the gnawing sense of guilt in the pit of my stomach. I shove it aside, reminding myself why I’m doing this. Relationships are messy, complicated as it is. Frankie and I have an important thing we are working on, there is no space for emotion.

I am sitting on her front steps when the car arrives. As I slide into the backseat and give a curt greeting to the driver, I finally breathe.

Her house fading in the distance is the best thing that’s happened so far this morning.

Monday, May 27

UAB Hospital

8:32 am

“Hey, what’s this I hear about you and Dibbins?” Shep doesn’t bother to sit down as he stands between my door and desk, hands in the pockets of his white lab coat. I’m seeing clinic patients today, grateful for a break from surgeries.

“Hm?” I’m reading charts and distracted when he makes his appearance.

“Hodgkins lymphoma?”

It takes me another second to process, but realization hits as my mind finally gets past the anxiety that’s been building about Frankie. We haven’t spoken since I snuck out yesterday morning and I’m in knots about how to deal with it when we inevitably do.

This is precisely why I fucked up when we slept together. For a second time. There is no avoiding her or the awkwardness that is sure to follow when we have to work together.

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