10. Hunter

TEN

Hunter

UAB Hospital

3 :56 pm

Back in my office, I'm poring over research and trying to figure out what else I'm not seeing when it comes to this study. I finished my cases almost an hour ago, but I'm staying around to hopefully meet up with Frankie and review my concerns.

She replied to my email saying she would be in around 4:30 today. She didn't comment either way about what I said in my message to her, so I'm not sure what her position will be. But I'm confident in my concerns, so how she perceives what I said is irrelevant to me.

When I realize I have a little more time to kill, I pick up the phone to reach out to my mother's doctors to discuss my concerns about this strain of Hodgkins. I don't want to inject myself there for so many reasons, but it is eating me alive.

She doesn't understand what I'm trying to get from her and it appears her doctors either aren't aware of this, or aren't putting in the time to address her situation fully. I know if I call, they will be more on top of things. But that will open a whole hornet's nest I'm not sure I'm ready for.

I hang up the phone after thinking better of it and try to come up with a plan. The last thing I need to do it go into it all hari-kari.

The data from Frankie's trial is spread out in front of me, a sea of numbers and charts that I've been combing through for the past hour.

My attention-deficit disorder brain goes back to this.

There are some things that don't quite add up, a few red flags that need to be addressed before we move forward. My mind is already running through how I'm going to bring it up to her without sounding like an ass.

A soft knock on the door shakes me out of my madness. I look up to see Jill, my assistant, poking her head in. She's holding a folder, her usual end-of-the-day stack of paperwork for me to sign off on.

"Hey, Jill," I say, leaning back in my chair. "You heading out?"

"Yeah, just about," she replies, stepping into the room. "But I wanted to drop this off first. It's the updated schedule for next week's surgeries, and there are a few things that need your signature."

I nod, reaching out to take the folder from her. As I flip it open, Jill lingers by the door, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. There's something on her mind.

"What's up?" I ask, glancing up from the papers.

She hesitates for a second before speaking. "I saw the email come through about the meeting with Dr. Renna later today. Do you need me to print out anything for it? I noticed there were some revisions to the protocol that came in earlier."

I pause, considering her question. I had asked her to pull some of the initial data last week, and she's been helping me keep track of the revisions as they come in. But there's something about the way she mentions Frankie that catches my attention—like there's more she's not saying.

"Yeah, actually, could you print out the latest version? And the revised charts, too," I say, watching her closely.

"Of course," she replies, turning to leave. But just before she steps out, she glances back at me, a thoughtful look on her face. "Dr. Renna seems really dedicated to this trial. I know that is her MO."

Her words hang in the air for a moment, and I can't help but wonder what she's getting at. "She is," I agree, waiting for her to elaborate, wondering where she is going with this.

Jill gives me a small smile, but there's something else in her eyes—something almost like concern. "Just make sure you're on the same page with her, Dr. Parrish. These things can get complicated if there are misunderstandings."

And with that, she's gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I stare at the door for a moment, her words echoing in my mind. Jill's usually straightforward, so when she drops hints like this, I know there's something behind them.

I watch the closed door after Jill left my office, her words lingering in the air like a storm cloud that won't dissipate. I can't shake the notion that she knows something I don't, and it's grating on me.

What exactly does she mean by that warning about Frankie? I'm not one to let things slide, especially when it concerns my work, and this trial is too important to leave anything to chance.

I stand up, the chair scraping against the floor, and follow her out into the hallway. She's just down the corridor, gathering her things from her desk, clearly ready to head out for the day. I quicken my pace, my curiosity getting the better of me, and call out before she can slip away.

"Jill, hold up."

She turns, surprised to see me, her bag slung over one shoulder and her keys in hand. "Dr. Parrish? Is everything alright?"

I stop in front of her, crossing my arms. "What exactly were you referring to back there, about Frankie Renna? Dr. Renna."

Jill hesitates, her eyes flicking to the side before meeting mine again. "I was just saying that Dr. Renna is very… I think particular is the right word. She is very possessive about her work and doesn't like anyone interfering or questioning her methods."

I narrow my eyes, not satisfied with the vague explanation. "Particular? That's not what it sounded like. You're worried about something. Don't hold back."

She exhales, looking uncomfortable, but I can tell she's weighing whether or not to say more. Finally, she speaks. "There was an incident a while back. I made a comment—honestly, I didn't think it was a big deal—but it set her off. She was working on a study, and she felt I overstepped by suggesting a different approach. It got heated."

"Heated?" I repeat, raising an eyebrow.

"Let's just say she's very protective of her studies, Dr. Parrish. She doesn't take kindly to anyone trying to tell her how to do her job, even if they're just trying to help. And you… well, you're not exactly the type to back down if you think something's wrong."

I process this, understanding now why Jill was so cryptic. Frankie's possessiveness over her work and my own dogmatic tendencies could be a volatile combination, especially if we're not careful.

Jill's warning isn't just about Frankie—it's about the potential clash between us, one that could jeopardize the trial if it's not managed properly. We are two people with strong convictions.

"I see," I say slowly, my mind already spinning with the implications. "Thanks for the heads up."

Jill nods, looking relieved that I've taken her concern seriously. "It's just I know you well enough, I hope I'm not overstepping my bounds by saying something. I know you care about this trial. I can see the way you have jumped in. And I know she must, too, just knowing the little I do about her. I'd hate for things to go sideways, you know?"

"I know," I reply, though my thoughts are already ahead, trying to anticipate how my meeting with Frankie is going to go. "I'll keep that in mind."

Jill gives me a small, tight-lipped smile before turning to leave.

Her warning plays in a loop in my head, making it hard to focus. I tap my fingers on the desk, glancing at the clock. It's almost time for my meeting with Frankie. The issues are minor, but they're there, and I want to make sure we're on solid ground before we push forward. Now, as I head to her office for our meeting, I'm curious to see how she'll respond.

When I step into Frankie's office, she's already sitting at her desk, the same calm, composed look on her face that I've come to expect. But there's something in her eyes—something sharp and focused—that tells me she's ready for this conversation.

"Dr. Parrish," she greets me, gesturing to the chair across from her. "I've had a chance to review your concerns."

"Hunter. Please." It seems silly I have to say that. I had my dick in her not even two hundred feet from here. We are professionals, I get it. But we don't have to go the whole nine yards with the professional titles with each other if we are going to be working so closely on this.

I sit down, noting the organized stack of papers on her desk, the same ones I've been analyzing. She's prepared, no doubt about it.

"I figured you had," I say, leaning back slightly, trying to gauge her mood. "What do you think?"

Frankie takes a deep breath, her eyes meeting mine. "Your concerns are valid, especially considering your perspective as a surgeon who deals directly with patients who need pacemakers. I understand why the data might raise some red flags."

I nod, appreciating her acknowledgment but waiting for the other shoe to drop. If Jill is right, she's not going to agree with me entirely, and that's fine. In fact, it's what I'm expecting.

She continues, her tone thoughtful. "I've spent a lot of time with this data, and I know this study inside and out. The deviations you pointed out, particularly in the patient response times and the variability in heart rate stabilization, are within the expected range for a trial of this nature. We're dealing with a smaller sample size and a lot of variables, and while the fluctuations might seem concerning at first glance, they're actually well within the acceptable parameters we've set."

She pulls out a specific chart, pointing to the data in question. "Here, for instance, you noted that the response times seemed inconsistent, but if you look at the breakdown by age group and pre-existing conditions, you'll see that the variations align with what we expected based on the initial projections. We anticipated these differences, and they don't pose a significant risk to the trial's overall integrity."

I study the chart, seeing the logic in her explanation. It's clear she's thought this through, and while I still have my reservations, I can't deny that her understanding of the data is impressive.

"But I understand your point," she adds, her voice softening just a bit. "These are people we are talking about, not just numbers on a page. Your perspective as a surgeon is invaluable, and it's important that we consider every angle before moving forward. That's why I'm open to rechecking the data with these concerns in mind, to make sure we're absolutely certain before we proceed to human trials."

There's a sincerity in her voice that surprises me. She's protective of this study, no doubt, but she's also willing to listen, to consider other perspectives—even when they challenge her own. It's a balance I didn't expect, especially after Jill's warning. It's both intriguing and, if I'm being honest, sexy as hell.

I lean forward, my gaze locked on hers. "I appreciate that, Frankie. I hope you don't mind if I call you Frankie."

"Of course not," she blushes. It's the first sign she isn't completely void of feeling.

"I know how much this study means to you, and I don't want to undermine that. My job is to make sure we're doing what's best for the patients who'll eventually rely on this technology. But it's clear you've already considered these variables, and that shows just how much command you have over this work."

For a moment, there's a flicker of something in her eyes—something beyond the professionalism she always maintains. It's gone almost as quickly as it appears, but it leaves me wondering. Is she remembering what happened between us on the other side of that wall like I am?

"Thank you," she says, her voice steady. "I want this trial to succeed just as much as you do, and I'm confident that with our combined expertise, we can make that happen."

I nod, garnering a newfound respect for her—not just for her knowledge, but for her dedication and her passion. It's rare to find someone who can match me in intensity, and I find myself drawn to that in ways I hadn't anticipated.

As we wrap up the meeting, the tension between us shifts. It's less about conflict and more about the shared goal, the mutual respect that seems to be there between us.

As I leave her office, the realization hits me that this trial is going to test more than just our professional abilities. It's going to test our ability to work together, to trust each other. If she's anything like me, that isn't going to be an easy feat for either of our personalities.

Hunter's Condo

6:32 pm

The city lights flicker through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a soft glow across the room.

I drop my bag on the kitchen counter and pour myself a glass of water, the meeting with Frankie still fresh in my mind. It went better than I expected—better than it had any right to go, considering the tension between us and our brief history of intimacy, which almost seems like a dream now.

But there's something about her that's making this trial extra important to me. It's not just another project. It's almost like a quest to make it soar.

I lean against the counter, staring out at the cityscape, my mind shifting gears to the work ahead.

Pacemakers have been crucial to cardiac care for decades, but like with all medical devices, there's always room for improvement. The standard pacemaker does its job—regulating heartbeats by delivering electrical impulses to the heart muscles—but it's not without limitations.

Most pacemakers work on a fixed-rate system or a demand mode, where the device only fires when it detects an irregular heartbeat. They're effective, but they don't account for the nuanced needs of different patients, particularly those with complex cardiac conditions. The device doesn't always adapt well to a patient's activity level or the natural variability of a healthy heart, leading to complications like arrhythmias or even heart failure in severe cases.

What Frankie discovered and what we will be testing with this trial is different. The pacemaker Frankie and her team have been developing is designed to be adaptive—smart, if you will. Everything these days is smart, and it only makes sense for medical devices to use the same technology to conform to individual quirks and needs.

It's equipped with sensors that monitor not just the heart's electrical activity but also the patient's physiological status in real-time. Things like oxygen levels, blood pressure, and even metabolic rate are taken into account, allowing the pacemaker to adjust its pacing algorithm on the fly.

It's a dynamic system, meant to mimic the body's natural responses more closely than any device currently on the market.

The potential here is enormous. For patients with advanced heart disease, this could mean fewer complications, fewer surgeries, and a better quality of life. It's not just about keeping the heart beating—it's about keeping it beating the way it should under a variety of conditions, responding to the body's needs as they change throughout the day.

This kind of innovation could change the standard of care, make pacemakers less of a blunt instrument and more of a finely tuned part of the body's overall system.

But with all that potential comes risk. This isn't a simple upgrade; it's a fundamental change in how we think about cardiac care. The trials are going to be rigorous and the scrutiny will be intense. Every detail needs to be perfect because one misstep could set us back years—or worse, endanger patients' lives.

That's where my role comes in. As a cardiothoracic surgeon, I've seen the limitations of current pacemakers firsthand. I've been in the OR when a patient's device failed, when their heart didn't respond the way it should have.

I've seen the fear in their eyes when they realize their lifeline might not be as reliable as they thought. That's why I've become so invested in this trial. It's why I didn't hesitate when Theo asked if I could consult.

It's not just about advancing the science—it's about making sure the next patient on my table has the best possible chance at a full, healthy life.

And it's why Frankie's perspective is so valuable. She sees the data, the patterns, the possibilities in ways I can't. But I see the patients, the real-world application, the human lives hanging in the balance. Together, we might just pull this off—if we can get out of our own way to listen to the other.

I'm all pumped up from the realization of the full potential of what we are doing. Got to burn off some of this energy. A sunset run is just what the doctor orders.