Tessa's Gift. Cerella Sechrist

believe in hope now. Not anymore. But did he have the right to withhold it from others? Maybe Tessa had a point. Would it be so bad to give his patients the opportunity to enjoy their successes?

      “So...” He cleared his throat. “We still have a battle to fight, but these test results are good news.”

      He watched as some of the tension eased from Mrs. Ryan’s shoulders.

      “This is a win,” he tried again. “And you should celebrate.”

      The change was instant. Maddy beamed as her mom leaned down to embrace her. There were tears of happiness in her eyes as she straightened.

      “Thank you, Dr. Brennan. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for all that you’re doing for my little girl.”

      For a moment, he wanted to correct her, to let her know he didn’t deserve such praise. But instead he motioned to the child. “Maddy’s the one with the hardest job. And she’s doing great at it.”

      His patient’s grin widened even more, and warmth bloomed in his chest. It felt startlingly good to see those smiles, to focus on this win with them. He realized that this victory was much the same as what Tessa was attempting with the dog-therapy program.

      He was still averse to the idea of animals in a hospital. The environment should be kept sterile, especially in a cancer ward where the patients’ immune systems were already so heavily taxed. But he appreciated what Tessa was trying to do. She wanted to boost the kids’ spirits, take their minds off their pain, no matter how briefly.

      As Maddy’s mother ran her palm over her daughter’s patchy hair and murmured words of encouragement, something shifted inside of Noah—something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Before he could consider it too closely, he heard someone say his name.

      “Dr. Brennan?”

      He turned, already sensing her there. Tessa Worth.

      “Could I have a moment of your time?” The soft plea in her voice stirred something else in his chest. He nearly offered a sharp reply, but he caught himself. Did she really deserve his scorn? She was only doing her job, after all. Why was he giving her such a hard time? Because it inconvenienced him? Or was it something else?

      He didn’t really want to consider the answers to some of those questions. But neither did he wish to punish her for doing what she thought was right.

      “I can be with you in a couple of minutes. Why don’t you wait for me in my office?”

      She nodded and before she left, offered a smile to Maddy and her mother. He marveled at how easily she could do it. And her smile was beautiful, warm and welcoming. Everything about her was kind and caring.

      He shook himself, frowning at his own distraction.

      “Well.” He cleared his throat. “Maddy, I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, okay?”

      She nodded, a lingering grin keeping her face bright and hopeful. On impulse, he held up a hand. Her mouth dropped slightly, and then she beamed as she smacked her palm against his in a high five.

      Before he could pull his arm away, her mother grabbed it.

      “Dr. Brennan. Thank you.” There were tears shining in her eyes.

      Both mother and daughter looked as if he’d handed them a gift. It wounded him, as much as it warmed him. He knew the dark place they were living in. He knew what it was to be on their side of this conversation, how desperately he’d clung to every reassurance, how he’d convinced himself that Ginny would win the fight.

      The reminder nearly made him issue a warning, cautioning them against hope. Hope blinded a person to reality. He didn’t want that for Maddy, nor her mother. But he didn’t want to see them weighed down by fear, either. So he forced himself to nod before leaving the room.

      * * *

      SHE WAS STANDING awkwardly in front of his desk when Noah entered his office. As he closed the door behind him, he gestured for her to take a seat. They sat at the same time, he on one side of the desk and she on the other.

      “I wanted to apologize,” she said without preamble, “for not speaking with you in person about the animal therapy ahead of time.”

      He opened his mouth to speak, but she rushed on, as if she had to get the words out before he said something that might stop her.

      “It was unfair to spring it on you. I mean, yes, I emailed you about it, but I should have been more direct. It was—” she straightened and cleared her throat “—unprofessional of me.” She licked her lips. “But I think the program will do a lot of good for the children,” she finally said.

      “I agree.” He enjoyed seeing her eyes widen at his response.

      “You...do?”