“Let me guess,” Aubry said. “He wouldn’t stop, right?”

“You got it. And then Flynn, who’s the oldest, comes in—and you gotta understand, Flynn is one tough sonofabitch. But here’s this twelve-year-old kneeling down over Barrett being all soothing and telling him everything is going to be all right, which is basically what Grant had just said to him, but Barrett stopped crying.”

Aubry shook her head. “I’m going to make it a point to be the second person in the exam room from now on whenever I have a kid as a patient. I’ll send the nurse in first. She can deal with all the crying, and then I’ll be the savior.”

He laughed. “There’s a sound plan.”

“Also, you big bully. Punching your brother like that.”

“Hey. Do you have any idea how many times Barrett knocked me on my ass? He had it coming.”

“If you say so. Your poor mother. She was probably breaking up fights between you all the time, wasn’t she?”

“She did her share, and don’t do the poor mom thing. She managed us boys just fine.”

“Then poor—what’s your sister’s name again? Mia?”

“Yes. And don’t do the poor Mia thing, either. Being the youngest with four big brothers, she was a master manipulator. She had us all wrapped around her little finger.”

Aubry laughed. “Okay, then. I feel better about your little sister.”

They had coffee after dinner, but both of them passed on dessert.

“When do you have days off?” he asked.

“They vary. I work some weekends, and sometimes I have days off during the week.”

“Me, too. Well, except for the fact that I never have weekends off. Not during the season, anyway.”

“That must suck for you.”

“I’m used to it. It’s just part of the job.” He finished his coffee, then put his cup to the side. “You should come to a game.”

“I’ve seen plenty of games. I’m not really all that interested.”

“But you haven’t seen me pitch. I’m good.”

“You mean you’re good when someone isn’t kicking you in the balls, or stomping on your leg, or when you’re not falling over a pile of rocks?”

“Hey. You haven’t exactly seen me at my best. On the mound, when I’m throwing the ball? That’s my best.”

“Humble, aren’t you?”

“Athletes have to think they’re the best at what they do. Otherwise, what’s the point in playing?”

“I suppose.” She took a sip of coffee, wondering what it was about him that intrigued her so much she was actually entertaining the idea of attending a baseball game. Her parents had dragged her to so many baseball games that now she only did it with the greatest amount of reluctance, and only when her father insisted.

“Don’t you think you’re a great doctor?”

“I have good days and bad days, but I haven’t yet reached the God complex phase of my medical career yet.”

He laughed. “I see. At what point does that occur?”

“Hopefully never. There are already plenty of those types of doctors out there—mainly the surgeons. And since I’m not a surgeon, I don’t see me ever thinking of myself as godlike.”

“Good to know. But just FYI? You’re a really good doctor, Aubry. And I speak from experience as one of your patients.”

She looked down at her cup, then up at him, not sure how to react to his praise. It wasn’t something she heard often, since she mostly heard criticism, and since she saw her patients for a brief period of time, and typically only once. It wasn’t like most of them were repeat customers who offered feedback on services rendered. “Thank you. I’m glad you think so.”

“I think your boss, or attending physician or whatever, should tell you that more often.”

“It’s not his job to tell us where we’re doing well. It’s his job to tell us where we’re falling short. To make us better.”

“I guess. I don’t know. Seems to me he should give you the good parts as well as the not so good.”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way. The emergency room is a fast-paced environment, without a lot of time for ‘atta girl’s. If we’re screwing up somewhere, there’s only time to point that out, so we know what not to do in the future. If we’re doing something right, we won’t hear about it.”

“In baseball, it’s different. If I’m working with my pitching coach and a pitch is working particularly well, he’ll tell me so I can work to replicate it. And of course, he’ll let me know if my mechanics are off so I can correct it. But I still get to hear the good as well as the bad.”

“We’re in completely different fields, Tucker. You can’t compare the two. You’re constantly working on your craft, trying to perfect it, even the parts that are working well. Your evaluations will be completely different from mine.”

He reached across the table and grasped her hand. “Aren’t you doing the same thing?”

She looked down where his much larger hand covered hers. She’d never thought about all the things she’d done right during her time in medical school, through her internship and her years in residency. She’d concentrated her efforts trying to fix all the things she’d done wrong. It was a constant learning process.