Page 49 of Doctor One Night

This is why you don't sleep with your coworkers, no matter how hot and irresistible they might seem. Why do I keep making this mistake with him?

My phone buzzes on the desk, pulling me out of my thoughts. I glance at the screen and Bill, my father’s name, flashes up. Talking to him could be the straw that will break my back.

We are making good progress, but I can’t talk to him right now. Last we spoke he told me he would call to update me on his latest labs. I can’t take any bad news right now, and I don’t think I can be positive enough for good news.

So I send it to voicemail, the screen flashing one last time before it goes dark. I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, but the relief is short-lived. The anxiety is rising, pressing down on me from all sides. The trial, Hunter, my father—it’s all too much, all at once.

I stand up, pacing the conference room, trying to shake the feeling of being overwhelmed. This is turning out to be a very bad Monday. The kind of Monday where everything that could go wrong threatens to, just waiting for the right moment to come crashing down.

Taking a deep breath, I force myself to sit back down. There’s no time to dwell on this now. There’s work to be done, and I have to keep moving forward, no matter how heavy everything seems.

But as I open my laptop and try to focus on the protocol, my mind keeps drifting back to the inevitability of losing my father before I even have him, to Hunter and whatever the fuck is going on there, to the pressure of making sure everything is perfect for this trial. Everything is piling up.

This is going to be one hell of a week. There’s no way around it, so I’ve just got to get through it.

1:51 pm

I’m hunched over my desk, the soft glow of my laptop screen casting a blue tint on my face as I work on the protocol draft. My fingers fly over the keys, trying to put together something coherent that we can start with, but my mind keeps wandering back to the voicemail I’m avoiding and the mess that is my life right now.

A light knock on the doorframe pulls me out of my thoughts, and I look up, my heart sinking as soon as I see who it is.

Hunter. Fuck. “Hello.”

I offer a weak smile instead of speaking.

He’s standing there, looking as composed as ever, but there’s something in his eyes that makes my pulse quicken. I curse myself for not going home when I had the chance.

“Is this a good time?” he asks, his voice smooth, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s not sure how this conversation is going to go.

I take a deep breath, pushing aside the anxiety that’s been gnawing at me all day. “Sure,” I say, gesturing to the chair across from my desk. “Come on in.”

He steps into the office, his movements measured, and takes a seat. The air between us is tense, thick with the things we’re not saying. Neither of us addresses the other night or the next morning, and I’m grateful for that, even if it leaves the omission a little suffocating.

“I heard you signed the paperwork with the sponsor earlier,” Hunter says, breaking the silence. His tone is professional, but there’s an underlying tension I can’t ignore.

“Yeah,” I reply, forcing a smile. “It’s official. Now we just have to get everything ready for the trial.”

He nods, his eyes scanning the papers scattered across my desk. “You’re working on the protocol?”

“Just a first draft,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “I figured I’d get started on it. But, of course, I’ll ultimately defer to you. You’ve got the experience with pacemakers.”

Hunter leans back in his chair. His gaze focused on me, making it hard to breathe. “We’ll need to make sure the protocol is solid, of course. Everything has to be precise, every control exact. We’ll have to outline the specific patient criteria—age range, severity of heart failure, and any co-morbidities that could affect the outcomes.”

I nod, jotting down a few notes as he talks. “Right, of course. And we’ll need to define the endpoints clearly. Whether we’re measuring improvement in ejection fraction, reduction in hospitalization rates, or overall survival.”

He leans forward slightly, his eyes narrowing as he considers the details. “We should also think about incorporating some novel features into the pacemaker itself. Maybe something like real-time telemetry for remote monitoring. If we can show that it not only improves patient outcomes but also reduces the need for in-person follow-ups, that could be a game-changer.”

“That’s a great idea,” I say, genuinely impressed. “We could also consider looking at how the pacemaker interacts with other implanted devices, like defibrillators, to make sure there’s no interference.”

Discussing work, and the excitement of this all becoming a reality, is certainly making this interaction easier. Just like the last time, each work meeting will get easier, until there is no more tension.

Until we both find ourselves in the lab and fuck each other’s brains out.

Hunter nods again, his focus intense. “We’ll need to work closely with the engineers on that, make sure everything’s seamless.”

There’s a pause as I finish typing up my notes, as the tension continues to shift, becoming something more palpable, more personal. I know his eyes are on me, and when I look up, there’s something in his expression that makes my breath catch.

“Well,” Hunter says, standing up, his tone casual but his eyes still locked on mine. “I should let you get back to it. Once you’re finished, I can go over it with a fine-toothed comb and offer my thoughts.”

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