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22. Hunter

TWENTY-TWO

Hunter

Thursday, May 30

UAB Hospital

6:34 am

Walking into the OR, the surgical team is already preparing for the procedure and ready for me. I try to shake off the thoughts swirling in my mind. The patient on the table depends on me, and I need to be fully focused on the task at hand. But pushing everything aside is hard, especially when the weight of the world presses down on my shoulders.

I can't stop thinking about Frankie and how much I regret not being able to meet up with her last night. After the day I had, dealing with everything around Grace and then that damn phone call with my mother's doctor, I just didn't have the energy.

The truth is, that phone call with Dibbins about my mother knocked the wind out of me. Her Hodgkin's lymphoma isn't responding to the treatments, and the latest labs suggest she's got that rare, resistant strain I've been reading about. The one with a prognosis that makes my stomach twist just thinking about it.

My mother, who's been battling this disease all alone, doesn't understand what it all means. I don't think her doctor there does, either.

It's heavy, and I don't know how I'm supposed to deal with it. Should I move her out here, closer to me, so I can keep a better eye on her care? Even thinking about that—about uprooting her life, about the strain it would put on both of us—it makes my head spin.

I glance at the clock, mentally preparing myself for the surgery ahead, but my thoughts keep circling back to the same place.

I've always been the one who's in control, who handles everything with a steady hand and a clear mind. But this… this is different.

Right now, I have a patient to focus on. I can't afford to let my mind wander, not when there's a life on the line. I take a deep breath, trying to clear my head as I step into the OR, the surgical lights bright overhead.

It's time to do what I do best—focus on the task at hand and save a life. The rest… I'll have to deal with that later.

11:39 am

After finishing the surgery, I scrub out, my mind already drifting back to the heavy thoughts I've been trying to push away all morning. I dry my hands and check my phone, noticing a missed call and a text from Jonah. The message is short and direct.

Call me as soon as you get this. It's about Grace.

My heart sinks, and a wave of dread washes over me. Grace has weighed on me since the heart attack. I'm not her doctor of record, but I've been consulting with her cardiologist to make sure she gets everything she needs.

Her stats have been stable, but she is very sick. I know Dr. Calloway, her doctor, has been exploring different options for her, but she can't do anything until she gets her strength up. I hope things haven't taken a turn for the worse.

The fact that Jonah is calling me about her isn't a good sign. He is her de facto son. As a general surgeon, there isn't much he can do for her, except advocate for her care. I quickly dial his number and head toward my office, already mentally preparing for the worst.

Jonah picks up on the first ring. "Hunter, meet me at your office. We need to talk about Grace."

"I'm on my way," I say, my voice tight as I pick up the pace.

As I walk through the hallway, I see Shep Duncan heading toward me with a dumb fucking grin on his face. It's nice to know someone around here doesn't have the world crumbling all around him.

"Hey, Parrish!" Shep calls out as we approach each other. "Heard the good news about Mrs. Falworth?"

I shake my head, distracted, but slow down just enough to give him a moment. "No, what's up?"

Shep doesn't stop walking, but he turns back as we pass each other. "She finally quit smoking! Can you believe it?"

Mrs. Falworth, our stubborn, chain-smoking patient, finally quit? I never thought I'd see the day.

"That's incredible," I call back, a genuine smile pulling at the corners of my mouth despite the anxiety gnawing at me. "Thanks for letting me know."

Shep nods and continues down the hall, leaving me with a rare burst of happiness in an otherwise shitty morning. It's a small victory, but right now, I'll take it. It's proof that sometimes, no matter how stubborn or set in their ways people might be, change is possible.

I push forward, that small glimmer of hope fueling me as I head to my office. When I get there, Jonah is already waiting, leaning against the door frame, his expression serious.

"Jonah," I say, nodding as I unlock the door and push it open, gesturing for him to come in. "What's going on with Grace? Is she okay?"

He follows me inside, and the tension in the air. We both take a seat, and I can tell by the look on his face that whatever he's about to say isn't good.

"It's not good, Hunter," Jonah begins, running a hand through his hair. "The damage from the heart attack is worse than we initially thought. Dr. Calloway has considered every option for her, but it's clear now that she's not going to be able to manage without some kind of intervention."

My stomach tightens. "What's he thinking?"

Jonah takes a deep breath. "She needs a pacemaker, but she's not a candidate for the traditional ones. Her condition, her age, the damage, the complications… it's too risky."

I nod slowly, already seeing where this is going. "So what are you suggesting?"

Jonah leans forward, his eyes locking onto mine. "What about the pacemaker you've been working on? The one for the trial. It's designed for patients like her, right? Those who can't handle the traditional devices?"

My mind races, weighing the options, the risks, the possibilities. "Jonah, we haven't even started the trial yet. We've got the FDA approval, and we've secured funding, but there is still so much that has to be done before we can start. The hospital board hasn't even met to review our protocol that isn't even completed. It's just not there yet, man, I'm sorry."

"I know that," Jonah says, his voice urgent. "But we're talking about Grace's life here. She's not going to make it without some kind of intervention, and soon. You've got the approval, you've got the device—there has to be a way you can use it to save her. She is important to all of us, we have to come through for her."

I lean back in my chair, running a hand over my face. "It's not that simple, Jonah," I say frustrated. I'm pissed he is putting this one me, like I'm the one who will make or break this. "There are protocols, regulations, a system."

"I get it," Jonah cuts in, "but we both know that sometimes, you have to bend the rules a little to save a life. You've got the important stuff: the FDA approval, the money. If anyone can make it happen, I know it's you."

I stare at him for a long moment, the enormity of it all swallowing me. We've never done a human trial, we don't even have all of the fucking protocols in place.

Goddammit. Grace's life depends on this, and I know it.

"I'll look into it," I finally say, my voice firm. "I'll see what I can do. But I can't make any promises. It's likely the hospital wouldn't even agree to it if I figured out how to pull it off. They would have to be on board."

Jonah nods, relief flooding his features. "Thanks, Hunter. Just try. I know it's a lot to ask, but she's got no other options."

As Jonah leaves, I sit back, my mind already spinning with the possibilities. There's a way to do this—I just need to figure out how. The compassionate use program is designed for situations like this, where a patient needs access to an experimental treatment outside of a clinical trial.

The board will have to agree. It's almost easier to get an act through congress than it is to get them all on the same page.

I get up from my chair, pacing the room as I think through the logistics. I'll need to talk to Theo and get his okay, and then together, we would have to put in an emergency request with the IRB and the Ethics Board.

But more than that, I need to make sure this is the right move for Grace. She deserves the best care possible, and if this pacemaker is her best shot, then I'll have to figure out how to make it happen.

I open my laptop and fingers start flying over the keyboard as I draft an email to Frankie and Theo about the compassionate use request for Grace Petit. I've got to start somewhere, and nothing will happen without their blessing.

The words are coming quickly—too quickly, maybe—but the urgency of the situation is overriding everything else in my mind. I need to get this message out, to start the process, to figure out how to make this work. Grace doesn't have time to wait.

Subject: Compassionate Use- Grace Petit

Frankie, Theo ? —

Just as I'm about to dive into the specifics, Jill pops her head into my office, her voice cutting through my concentration like a knife.

"Dr. Parrish, your patient is prepped and on the table, ready for surgery."

I freeze, my body and mind are in two different places as her words sink in. Shit. I completely forgot.

I glance at the clock on my computer screen, cursing under my breath. How the hell did I lose track of time like that?

"Shit, Jill, I—" I start, but she's already nodding, understanding written all over her face.

"You have a lot on your mind, Dr. Parrish. Just get in there."

I slam my laptop shut, pushing back from my desk and practically leaping to my feet. All thoughts of compassionate use and Grace Petit are shoved to the back of my mind as I rush out of the office, Jill already moving ahead of me to make sure everything's in place.

This is what I'm here for, after all—surgery. The catastrophes I'm expected to thwart will have to wait a little while longer.

Shain Park

7:08 pm

The early evening air is cooler than I expected as I walk down the quiet street, the sun dipping low on the horizon. After the day I've had, I needed this—needed to get out of the hospital, away from the blank walls and endless responsibilities. But more than that, I need to see Frankie.

I reach for my phone, hesitation prickling at the back of my mind. It's been a long day and I can't shake the urge to hear her voice, to see her. So I send her a quick text, asking if she's up for a walk and maybe grabbing something to eat. I'm relieved when her reply comes back almost immediately.

Sure. I could use a break. Meet you at the park in 20?

The familiar sight of Frankie waiting by the fountain brings a small sense of calm to my otherwise chaotic mind. Seeing her long, toned legs in her athletic shorts and a tank top almost makes me forget about the shitshow of a day I've had. She smiles when she sees me, and inside I melt.

"Hey," I say as I approach, that familiar flutter in my chest when she's near.

"Hey, yourself," she replies, falling into step beside me as we start walking down the path. "Bad day?"

"You could say that," I admit, rubbing the back of my neck. "How about you?"

She nods, her expression thoughtful. "Yeah. Busy. Got your email about the compassionate use for Grace."

I glance at her, trying to gauge her reaction. I know this is a big ask—maybe even too big—but Grace doesn't have much time. "What do you think?"

She takes a deep breath, clearly choosing her words carefully. "Hunter, you know how much I care about this trial. I've spent years working on this device, even before our official research at UAB started, perfecting the science behind it. If we approve compassionate use for Grace, it's outside the trial, and anything that goes wrong could jeopardize the entire study. It could even put an end to it."

I can hear the concern in her voice, and I get it. This trial, this device, it's her life's work. She's put everything into it, and the stakes are incredibly high.

"I know, Frankie. And I respect that, more than you know. But Grace, she's not just another patient. She's been at that hospital since before I went to med school. She's the glue that holds that OR floor together. Without this pacemaker, she won't make it. It's not just about data and numbers and reports, it's about saving her life."

Frankie stops walking, turning to face me. Her deep emerald green eyes search mine, looking for something.

"Hunter, I understand where you're coming from. I do. But we have to be responsible. We have to consider the risks, not just for Grace, but for the future of this device, for all the other patients who could benefit from it down the line."

I take a deep breath, the heaviness of her words, the truth in them. But I can't shake the image of Grace lying in that hospital bed, clinging to life.

"I know the risks, Frankie. I do. But I also know the promise of it. Grace doesn't have a future at all if we don't at least try. This device was designed for patients like her, who don't have any other options. I just can't stand by and do nothing when I know the solution is within my reach."

She looks down at the ground, her shoulders tense. "I just don't want to lose everything we've worked for because we rushed into something."

Her words seem more poignant than ever. Not just about the trial and Grace, but every storm swirling around me.

I step closer, gently tilting her chin up so she has to meet my gaze. "We're not rushing into anything. We would be making a calculated decision."

She searches my eyes for a long moment, and I can see the conflict written all over her face. But slowly, she nods. "Okay. Let's put it before the IRB and see what they say. Theo said ultimately the decision was up to me. We can't cut corners."

"We won't," I promise. "We're in this together."

We stand there for a moment, the park quiet around us. There is a swell of gratitude for this woman standing in front of me. She's smart, determined, and fiercely protective of her work. But more than that, she's compassionate, and that's what makes her so damn hot.

The short athletic shorts and tight ass don't hurt.

"Thank you, Frankie," I say quietly.

She nods, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "What do you say about grabbing a pizza and taking it back to my place?"

"I can't think of a better idea," I respond a little too eagerly. Suddenly the sky seems to open just a little. With Frankie's blessing and willingness, if we can solve at least one thing hanging over me, I will call that a win.

Now, for pizza. And, more importantly, dessert…

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