Page 55 of Doctor One Night

Good, that's where it belongs.

4:28 pm

I decide to stop by and see Carly on the OR floor before heading out. I shoot her a quick text to make sure she's at the desk and not with a patient. When she confirms she's free, I let her know I'm on my way up to say hi.

As I step off the elevator, I spot Carly's vibrant blond locks behind the nurses' station. She looks up and breaks into a wide smile as I approach.

“Hey, stranger!” she calls out, her eyes twinkling.

I lean against the counter, returning her smile. “How are you doing? First day back and all?”

Carly stretches her arms above her head, wincing slightly. “A little sore still, but it’s good to be back in the swing of things. I was going stir-crazy at home.”

“I bet,” I chuckle. “How's the pace been today? Not too overwhelming, I hope?”

She shakes her head. “Nah, it's been pretty steady. Nothing I can't handle. Though I have to admit, I'm moving slower than usual.”

I nod sympathetically. “That's to be expected. Just don't push yourself too hard, okay? It's only your first day back.”

“Yes, Nurse Ratched,” Carly rolls her eyes playfully. “But seriously, thanks for checking in. It means a lot.”

“Of course,” I reply, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “That's what friends are for.”

We chat for a few more minutes about her recovery and the latest hospital gossip. As I'm about to leave, Carly leans in conspiratorially.

“So, any updates on the Hunter situation?” she whispers, eyebrows raised.

My cheeks flush and I quickly glance around to make sure no one's within earshot. “Not now, Carly. God, you’re impossible. I’ll fill you in later, I promise.”

She grins, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “I'll hold you to that! I’m off at seven. Can I stop by your place on the way home?”

“Duh. Of course, you can. I would think something was wrong if you didn’t!”

4:42 pm

Walking through the hospital parking lot, I pull out my phone, my fingers hesitant to call Bill, but it is hanging over me. It's been a full twenty-four hours since he called with news that his labs were promising, and I still haven’t returned his call.

It’s been sitting in the back of my mind, lingering. There is no doubt I’ve been avoiding it, avoiding him, unsure of how to handle the slow rebuilding of a relationship I never really had.

I take a deep breath and swipe to call him, holding the phone to my ear as I unlock my car. The line rings a few times before I hear his voice on the other end.

“Frankie,” he answers, sounding surprised but pleased. “Hey, there.”

“Hi,” I reply, sliding into the driver’s seat of my VW Passat and shutting the door behind me. “I got your message yesterday. Sorry I didn’t call back sooner—things have been hectic. But, I was so happy to get your voicemail.”

“No worries,” he says, and I can almost hear the smile in his voice. “I just wanted to share the good news. The labs are looking better. The treatment might actually be doing something. It seemed that the doctors were pleased.”

“That’s great to hear,” I say, meaning it. “I’m always glad for good news.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, but there’s a hesitation in his voice, like he’s not sure what to say next. “I know it’s still early, but I’m hopeful. And I wanted to make sure you were kept informed, you know?”

I nod, thinking of all the implications of what the healing could mean. “I appreciate that, Dad.”

There’s a brief silence. The awkwardness and normalness of what I just said sits there on display for both of us. It’s the first time I’ve called him anything, let alone the intimate moniker.

Neither of us says anything, and he clears his throat. Maybe he is as emotional as I am about it.

“Anyway,” he says after a moment, “I don’t want to keep you. I know you’re busy.”

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