Page 54 of Doctor One Night

“Keep me posted,” Shep says, his tone lightening as he finishes washing up. “And if you need to talk it out or just grab a beer, you know where to find me.”

I chuckle, as my tight muscles seem to release ever so slightly. “I might take you up on that.”

We finish getting dressed, the conversation drifting to lighter topics as we head out of the locker room. Before I leave for my next stop, I thank him again for encouraging me to talk to Dibbins. I guess I needed that extra nudge to do the right thing from time-to-time.

I’m starting to realize I need that in more areas than just with dealing with my complicated relationship with my mom and dealing with her diagnosis.

NINETEEN

Frankie

3:03 pm

Sitting across from Bench as we go over the details of the trial, as my body seems to be intimately aware that Hunter will walk in any minute. My pits are sweaty, and another area is more wet than usual. Focus, Frankie.

The table in front of us is cluttered with papers—protocol drafts, charts, and research summaries. We’ve been at it for about twenty minutes, fine-tuning the specifics before Hunter arrives. I’ve been trying to focus on the work, but my mind keeps wandering to last night, to the kiss that’s still sitting on my lips, taunting me.

“Now, Frankie,” Theo says, snapping me back to the present. “About the patient selection criteria, you’re confident that the inclusion parameters are set correctly?”

“Yes,” I reply, nodding as I push aside the thoughts of Hunter. “We’ve narrowed it down to patients with a specific profile: those with advanced heart failure who have not responded well to existing pacemaker technology. We’re also focusing on a subset with concurrent arrhythmias that aren’t well managed with medication alone. The goal is to target those who would benefit the most from the new pacing algorithms we are testing.”

Theo nods thoughtfully, tapping his pen against the table. “Good. And the exclusion criteria?”

“We’re excluding patients with a history of severe ventricular arrhythmias that aren’t controlled by ICDs or antiarrhythmic drugs, as well as those with significant comorbidities that could interfere with the trial results. We want to ensure we’re testing this in a controlled population to get the most accurate data possible.”

Theo seems satisfied with that, but before he can respond, the door opens and Hunter steps in. My heart skips a beat as he walks into the room, looking every bit the fucking cover model for a Vogue hottest surgeons in America issue.

“Sorry I’m late,” Hunter says, sliding into the chair across from Theo and beside me. “Just finished up in surgery. We got a little later start than we planned, so everything got pushed back a little.”

“No worries, Dr. Parrish,” Theo replies, shifting a stack of papers toward him. “We were just discussing the patient selection criteria and the final steps before we submit the protocol for FDA approval.”

Hunter nods, picking up the papers and scanning them quickly. “I’ve looked over the draft. The criteria look solid, but I had a few concerns about the pacing algorithms. Specifically, how we’re going to handle patients who develop new arrhythmias during the trial. Are we set up to monitor those in real-time?”

The tension in the room rises as Hunter shifts into surgeon mode, his tone all business.

He bites his bottom lip as he thinks, a mannerism I've come to adore. It's a subtle reminder of what happened between us last night. I force myself to stay focused, to keep my voice steady.

“We’ve accounted for that,” I say, leaning slightly forward to meet his gaze. “The devices will be equipped with real-time monitoring capabilities, and we’ve arranged for continuous telemetry for the first forty-eight hours post-implantation. Any new arrhythmias will trigger an automatic alert, and the patients will be brought in for immediate evaluation.”

Hunter nods, seeming satisfied with my response, but he doesn’t break eye contact. “Good. That’s critical. We can’t afford to have any surprises once we’re in the thick of it.”

Theo jumps in, sensing the intensity between us and perhaps trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground. “Hunter, your surgical expertise will be invaluable during the implantation phase. We’ve identified the top five centers that will participate in the trial. We’ll need you to coordinate with the surgical teams at each site to ensure they’re fully trained on the new device and procedures.”

“I’m on it,” Hunter says, turning his attention to Theo. “I’ll set up training sessions with each team, making sure they’re comfortable with the protocol and the device specifics. We’ll also need to train my team here so they can assist. I want this to be a well-oiled machine before it goes out.”

Theo nods, clearly pleased. “Exactly. And Frankie, I’ll rely on you to oversee the data collection and ensure we’re capturing everything we need. This trial has the potential to be a fundamental change, but a lot of that will depend on how we roll this out and conduct the trials. They have to be beyond reproach.”

“Absolutely,” I agree, though I can’t shake the awareness of Hunter sitting so close beside me. “We’ll be setting up a centralized database where all the trial data will be stored and monitored. I’ll be coordinating with the statisticians to make sure we’re analyzing the data in real-time, so we can adjust when necessary.”

The conversation continues, a back-and-forth of technical details, logistical planning, and strategic decision-making. But underneath it all, there’s an unmistakable tension between Hunter and me. At least for me. I can't help but wonder if he is experiencing it, too.

As the meeting wraps up, Theo leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. He looks between the two of us. “This is going to be a tough trial, but I’m confident we’ve got the right team to pull it off. Let’s meet again next week to finalize the submission.”

Hunter and I both nod, and Theo gathers his papers, leaving the room with a quick word of encouragement. The door closes behind him, and suddenly, it’s just the two of us, the silence thick with everything we’re not saying.

I glance over at Hunter, unsure of how to break the tension. But before I can figure it out, he stands up, gathering his things. “I’ll be in touch with the surgical centers,” he says, his dry affect leaves me reeling.

And then he’s gone. Suddenly, I find myself all alone with my thoughts, realizing that whatever is happening is limited to the after hours.

---