16. Hunter

SIXTEEN

Hunter

Frankie's House

11:44 pm

I push open the door to Frankie's house, the cool air a welcome sensation to cool the fire that is raging inside me. We're a tangle of limbs before the door even closes behind us, our urgency cutting through the quiet of her home.

Her lips are on mine, fierce and demanding, as I back her into the den. We're all hands and mouths, desperate for the taste of each other's skin. I tug at her dress, unzipping the long zipper that trails down her back. The fabric pools at her feet, leaving her in nothing but a lace thong and heels. The sight of her nearly undoes me. She's a vision of curves and softness, her green eyes dark with desire.

I lift her onto the edge of a nearby table, spreading her legs wide to accommodate me. My fingers find her center, already slick with need, and I stroke her, watching her arch and gasp beneath my touch. "Hunter," she moans, the sound of my name on her lips spurring me on.

I free myself from my pants, the ache in my cock demanding release. With one swift motion, I'm inside her, filling her completely. She cries out, her nails digging into my shoulders as I start to move. Each thrust proclaims and acknowledges that no one can never fully satiate the hunger I now have but her.

Her walls clench around me, the rhythm of our bodies syncopated and frenzied. "You feel so damn good," I growl, capturing her mouth in a deep, searing kiss. She responds by wrapping her legs tighter around my waist, pulling me deeper, harder, until the line between where I end and she begins blurs into oblivion.

We're both teetering on the edge, our breaths ragged and mingling. I know her orgasm is building, the way her body tenses and quivers beneath mine. "Come for me, Frankie," I whisper, and she does, her climax crashing over her in waves that I experience with her, like shocks of electricity throughout my entire body.

Her release triggers my own, and I follow her over the edge, my vision white-hot with pleasure as I empty myself into her. For a moment, we're frozen in time, our bodies locked together in the aftermath of our passion.

Breathless, I scoop her into my arms, carrying her to the bedroom. We collapse onto the bed, a mess of tangled limbs and heated skin. I trail kisses along her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, reveling in the way she squirms and moans beneath me.

"Again," she demands, her eyes shining with a mix of mischief and raw need. "I want to have you inside me again."

Who am I to deny such a request?

I roll her onto her stomach, pulling her hips back toward me. She looks over her shoulder, her gaze smoldering as I position myself at her entrance once more. This time, our lovemaking is slow and deliberate, each thrust a promise, each exhale a vow.

"God, Frankie," I murmur, my hands exploring every inch of her. "You're fucking incredible."

She pushes back against me, meeting my thrusts with equal fervor. "You fuck me so good, Hunter," she pants. "Don't ever stop."

We lie tangled together in the sheets, our breathing still heavy, the remnants of our intensity lingering in the air.

The room is quiet except for the sound of our breathing, still labored from what just happened. The sheets stick to my skin, not wanting to release myself from the warmth of her body pressed against mine.

My hand rests on her waist, fingers tracing slow, lazy circles on her back. I don't think I've ever felt this close to someone, not just physically, but emotionally. Our first time was between two strangers who met during a perfect storm. We hardly knew each other, and it was purely physical, the end.

This time, it's… different. And it's terrifying.

She's lying with her head on my chest, her hair fanned out over my skin, and I can hear her breathing start to slow. There's a tenderness around us I haven't felt in a long time, maybe ever, and it makes my chest tighten in a way that's both comforting and unsettling.

I keep my hand moving on her low back, needing that connection, something to ground me. I don't want to break the silence, but at the same time, I have to say something, to let her in a little more. It's been so long since I've let anyone get this close, and it's like a door has opened that beckons me in.

"It's been a long time since I've felt this… connected," I murmur, my voice sounding like it belongs to someone else, but it's the truth. I've been avoiding this, avoiding her, because somehow I instinctively knew she was different.

She lifts her head slightly, looking up at me with those green eyes that always seem to see more than I want them to. "Yeah," she says softly, her voice carrying the same weight as mine. "I know what you mean. I think you and I are cut from the same cloth in that way."

The silence stretches out again, but it's not uncomfortable. It's filled with something unspoken, something that's been building between us for months, and now that we've crossed this line for a second time, I can't pretend it doesn't exist anymore.

"Well, there was that one time in the lab..." She looks up at me with a mischievously devilish smile. I have to give her props for being the first to break the silence on that.

"Good point, there was that one time in the lab."

We both laugh, but neither of us takes it any further. I guess she wanted to address it, so it isn't the elephant in the room anymore. I'm not sure there is anymore to say on the subject. Nothing more than what we just did.

Something I didn't talk about the other night at the bar because I wasn't ready, seems appropriate now, to give her context. But now, with her here, in my arms, it's like a natural opening.

"The other night… when you asked about Hodgkin's…" I start, hesitant but also empowered. Her body tenses slightly against mine, and I know she's listening, waiting, wondering where this is going. "It's been on my mind ever since."

She shifts, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest, and it's like she's instilling in me the strength to keep going. "My mom was diagnosed recently," I finally say, the words heavier than I expected. "With Hodgkin's lymphoma."

Saying it out loud for the first time is a release. Like I don't have to carry it all by myself anymore.

There's a pause, the air between us thick with unspoken emotion. She doesn't say anything right away, just lifts her hand to my face, her touch gentle, grounding me in this moment.

"We aren't especially close, but she is a widow and there is something about her diagnosis, I don't know, it's just weighing on me."

"Oh, Hunter, I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry at all. I guess I'm just telling you since you brought it up. I told you not to worry, and I mean it. Hodgkins is relatively simple and curable, but it is scary when it is someone you love."

"Yes, it can be scary, you're right." Somehow she always says just enough to comfort me without pushing me or saying too much. It's a true talent.

"I've been trying to stay out of it," I continue, my voice low, "to keep my distance, but… it's not easy. She was always tough on me, pushing me to be better, to do more, and I've spent my whole life trying to live up to that. But now that she needs me, I don't know how to handle it."

Frankie's fingers brush through my hair, and the simple act is enough to make the lump in my throat loosen, just a little. "I'm sorry, Hunter," she whispers, and there's no pity in her voice, just understanding. "That must be so hard."

"It is," I admit, my voice so quiet at this point, my body fighting against itself not to completely lose it. "I'm trying to figure out how to be there for her without getting pulled back into all that old stuff. But it's hard, you know? It's really fucking hard."

"I get it," she murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to my chest, right over my heart. "It's hard watching our parents get sick. I lost my mom, too. It's been years and I'm still grieving her loss. There's something about moms that gets us right in the gut."

"I bet she was a special lady to have raised such an amazing daughter."

"She was pretty amazing. She was a single mom and we grew up together. I wish you could have met her."

"Me, too."

We hold each other, neither of us saying anything for a while. Another thread connecting us, pulling us closer. I've never opened up like this, and with Frankie, something seems so right about it.

I've been carrying this weight for so long, and now that I've let her in, it isn't nearly as heavy. Not with her here.

"Thank you," I say, my baritone thick with emotion I'm not used to sharing. "For listening and letting me tell you a little about my drama. It's nice to talk to someone."

"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.

"I might have mentioned a few cases he would want to take a look at. Maybe I steered a couple of people his way. What's the big deal?"

"You're a surgeon," Shep says, lowering his chin so he can look at me over his glasses. I don't like when he does this, it seems like he's addressing a minor that's been naughty and needs a talking to. "You just seem obsessed with this lately, that's all. Wondering what the deal is."

Fucker. Why is he pushing me so much? "Yeah, we can help each other around here, right?"

"Why the interest in HL? Fess up, enough with the song and dance."

There's no need to beat around the bush. It's not like some dark secret, anyway. I can be such a weirdo sometimes.

"My mom called me about a month and a half ago about a lump she found under her breast. It turns out she has Hodgkin's lymphoma. So I've been reading up on it. When a patient comes through, I've been sending them to him. Sooner they catch it and come up with a treatment plan, the better the outcome."

Shep seems to take in what I've just shared and thinks about it for a moment. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah, for now," I say after blowing out a sigh, "She's been on my ass about it since she found it. I might not have thought twice about it, but through my reading and research, I've found out there is a rare strain that is defying conventional treatment."

"It wouldn't hurt to talk to Dibbins, you know, instead of sending him a bunch of random cases. Like, really talk to him, I mean. Maybe he can take a look at your mom's case and help her—help you."

Sigh, "Yeah, I could do that." I still haven't called my mom's doctor like I promised. Fuck. Here is the universe again butting its nose in my fate. "I suppose I should talk to Dibbins today."

"I think you should," Shep concedes with a nod. "Hey, the gala was pretty sweet, huh? Where did you disappear to?" I was almost happy for the change in topic until I it was this one.

Dammit, I don't want to go into this, especially since rumors are already flying.

"I'm so glad you were enjoying it. I was working. Bench had me schmoozing a few billionaires. I was able to secure a sponsor for the pacemaker study I've been working on, so we are going to human trials."

I purposefully leave out Frankie's name because I don't want to hear his horseshit about her. I'm sure he is bringing it up to see what I will divulge.

"Your sponsor? Did you close the deal?"

I nod. Shep's smile is genuine as he takes the few steps to reach across my desk and shake my hand as I accept the gesture.

"Congratulations, Hunter. That's a big deal! Way to go! You must have given one hell of a good pitch."

Jill buzzes in, saving me from the awkwardness of having to "aw, shucks" my way through that. "Dr. Parrish, Mrs. Oppenstar is on line one. She insists on speaking to you about a fungus on her toe she thinks is related to surgery."

I roll my eyes and Shep stands. "On that note, I'm outta here."