Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
FINN
Aknock at the door pulled Finn's attention from the patient file he'd been reviewing. Eric appeared in the doorway, tablet in hand. "Got a minute?" Eric asked, already moving to sit in the chair across from Finn's desk.
"Of course," Finn replied. "What's up?"
Eric set his tablet down beside Finn's nameplate. Finn Cochrane, Clinical Program Manager. "Just finished checking in with Jordan. She's doing great. Says she's feeling better than she has in months."
Finn pulled up Jordan's file on his computer, scanning the latest assessment data. "Her numbers back that up. Anxiety markers are down, sleep quality's improved."
He leaned back in his chair. "I'd say we're in the home stretch. Another few weeks and she should be able to complete treatment."
"She'll be glad to hear that," Eric said.
They had been in their new roles for months, and things were going swimmingly.
Finn handled the clinical implementation: monitoring patient progress, adjusting treatment protocols, and managing the neurofeedback equipment.
Eric, officially the Patient Support Coordinator, handled everything else.
He scheduled appointments, fielded questions, and most importantly, related to patients in a way Finn never could.
Eric had been through the same treatment, experienced the same struggles.
When he told patients it would get better, it gave them hope.
After they finished the rest of their check-in, Eric leaned back in his chair. “So, you excited for your trip?”
“You should ask Miguel,” Finn said with a smile. “Every single night he gives a presentation on something we need to do while we’re there.”
“A presentation?”
“Yes. Literally a PowerPoint presentation.” Finn shook his head. “Last night he showed us this Michelin-rated restaurant in Maui. Went on and on about how the chef was trained under the stewardship of a legendary but reclusive chef known only as ‘Le Virtuose.’”
Eric’s eyebrows shot up. “Le what? I’ve never heard of them.”
“Yeah, that’s the thing. I googled it later, but couldn’t find anything. My suspicion is that Miguel made up the whole story to help sell us on the restaurant.”
Eric laughed. “Sounds like he’s got a future in creative marketing.”
Finn pulled out his phone, scrolling to find a picture from last night’s presentation. “That wasn’t everything either. Look at this flyer from a boat charter company he showed us. He was trying to sell us on the option at the bottom.”
Eric took the phone, squinting at the screen. “‘The Luxe Package. Includes a sixty-foot yacht equipped with a captain and crew prepared to service your every need.’” He scrolled up and then down again. “All the other packages show a price except that one.”
“Yeah, I noticed that too when he showed us.” Finn took the phone back, zooming in on the image. “See that white smudge? That’s whiteout. He covered up the price.”
Eric stared at him for a second, then burst out laughing. “How do you keep up with this kid?”
Finn was laughing too. “No idea. He is truly one of a kind.”
When the laughter subsided, Finn asked, “You guys still on for dinner tomorrow?”
“Absolutely,” Eric said. “It’s your turn to cook. Will you have time with all the packing and getting ready for the trip?”
“I checked with Elena this morning. We’re all set.”
“Awesome. I’ll come over with the family around seven then.”
They wrapped up with a few more logistical details about work while Finn would be on vacation. Then Eric headed back to his office, leaving Finn to finish up his notes.
By 4:30, Finn was shutting down his computer and gathering his things. His phone buzzed with a text from Elena: “Picking up Miguel from soccer. Home by 5:15. Love you.”
Finn smiled, typing back quickly: “See you then. Love you too.”
ELENA
"The preliminary results look promising," Alexis said, pulling up the latest data on the monitor. "But I'm seeing some inconsistency in the early sessions. Patient response times are all over the place."
Elena leaned across Alexis’s desk to study the graphs. "What about extending the baseline period? Give them more time to acclimate before you start the active treatment."
"I thought about that," Alexis said, scrolling through the data. "But it adds another week to the timeline. I'm thinking the issue might be the session frequency. Maybe we're pushing too hard too fast."
"That makes sense," Elena said. "Spacing them out more in the first two weeks could help."
"Yeah, exactly." Alexis made a note on her tablet. "I'll adjust the protocol and see how the next group responds."
They worked through a few more data points before Alexis glanced at the clock. "Hey, would you mind if I got out of here a couple of hours early today? Lily's volleyball team made it to the playoffs."
"Of course not," Elena said immediately. "Tell her good luck. And send me that updated protocol on Monday. I’m excited about what you have here, Alexis."
"Will do. Thanks, Elena."
Elena checked the time. “Are you all set here? I’ve got a meeting in about ten minutes.”
“All set. I’ll be heading out soon.”
She nodded and left the lab, starting down the long hallway to the elevator.
The walk always seemed to frustrate her.
The real work was being done in the labs, and her new office felt far away from that.
She spent as much time in the lab as she could.
Hopefully the researchers didn’t think she was micromanaging.
After a quick ride in the elevator, Elena walked down the hallway to her office. The nameplate beside her door read: Elena Herrera - Director of Research.
She stepped inside, set down her bag and barely settled into her chair when there was a knock at the door. Three o’clock, right on schedule.
“Come on in, Paul,” she called.
Paul Thompson appeared in her doorway.
"Right on time," Elena said, gesturing to the chair across from her desk.
Paul settled in, opening his meeting journal. With excitement in his eyes, he looked up. “Did you see the email from the board?”
Elena shook her head. “No, I’ve been in the lab all afternoon. What’s going on?”
“They approved the budget increase for our department for the next year. They’re pleased with the preliminary results across our projects.”
She felt a small surge of satisfaction. “That’s great to hear.”
The approval wasn’t surprising. Since David’s removal, the support from the board had been night and day. But she still found herself holding her breath every time the budget came up for conversation.
Paul was quiet for a moment, then said, "By the way, they finalized David's sentencing yesterday."
Elena looked up. "And?"
"Eight years. Federal healthcare fraud, multiple counts. He'll likely serve five with good behavior."
She thought she’d feel victorious. Instead, there was just relief. "Good."
"And that might not be all," Paul added. "A new lawsuit was just filed against him by a law firm representing over a hundred nurses.”
Elena's eyes widened. "A hundred nurses?"
Paul nodded. "All from Bridgepoint’s clinical division. Apparently he was running the same scheme across multiple departments. Cut staffing to the bone to show reduced operational costs, collected bonuses on the savings."
The sheer number of people David had hurt was depressing to think about. But the thought of him sitting in a tiny cell for years brought a small smile to her face. “I hope they win.”
After he left, Elena’s gaze drifted to a framed photo on her desk.
It was her, Miguel, and Finn at Miguel’s soccer game last month.
They were all smiling in their matching team colors.
Funny how normal it all felt now. There were some bumps in the road at first, especially when Finn moved in.
Miguel had voiced several concerns, most of them Xbox-related.
“If he’s living here now, I don’t understand why we can’t spend more time on the Xbox,” he’d argued. “It’s not like you guys won’t still have time to do laundry and smoke cigarettes.”
“When have you ever seen me smoke a cigarette?”
“Regardless, there still should be more time for Xbox,” Miguel said with his head held high.
“Regardless, I am overruling you.”
But eventually, they found their new rhythm. As if on cue, her phone buzzed from Miguel with a new request: “Practice ending soon. Can you pick me up early? I’m starving!!!”
Elena smiled. She typed back: “On my way.”