approach. Plus, the appropriate medication dose for a high schooler would kill an infant.
And heâd been lucky to find Morgan.
Theyâd first met at the beginning of his pediatric cardiothoracic fellowship. Sheâd been singing softly to a child whoâd just received a pacemaker, trying to entice the youngster with toys, the ultimate assessment of a childâs pain level. Active playâexcellent. Not interested in playingâthe child wasnât feeling well. Sheâd been straightening the girlâs stray curls with her fingers, offering up her own curly, blond locks as entertainment when it seemed the child got a sudden burst of energy from her sugary, orange Popsicle and grabbed Morganâs hair, entwining her sticky fingers in the locks and pulling hard.
Morgan cried out and stayed the girlâs hand as her vibrant green eyes searched the unit for help. Yelling in the PICU was reserved solely for emergencies, and toddlerâs sticky-fisted hair-pulling was a definite nonemergency.
Tyler raced to help her. At first he drew his trauma shears from his pocket to cut her free but she offered a look of Are you kidding? and heâd raced to shield them back in his pocket.
The first words his future wife ever uttered to him: âWhy is it you surgeons always want to cut something up first?â
He couldnât help but smile. âItâs the fastest way to a cure.â
Morgan laughed in return. Ten minutes later, he presided over a pile of orange, gooey washcloths that had separated fist from hair. The patient was smiling and playing. Heâd patted the bundle of dirty cloths at the end of the bed. âCutting would have been faster than this, but I do like your long hair better than the short cut I would have given you.â
âSurgeon and hairstylist?â
âWhere do you think Scarlett Johansson gets her great style from?â
âScarlett Johansson?â
Heâd held his hands up in mock surrender. âAll right, you know my darkest secret. Now I can take you out for dinner.â
âWhere?â
âI might be able to afford the cafeteria.â
Amyâs monitor toned and brought his attention back to his current patient. A jealous tug pulled at Tylerâs heart as the attending cardiac surgeonsidled up next to Morgan at the patientâs computer, reviewing the initial numbers. He nodded and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. One thought crossed through Tylerâs mind.
I want to be that close to her again. Have that easiness.
Would he ever get over first thinking about Teaganâs death when he entered this unit? Would Morgan?
Chapter 8
Morning, Friday, July 13
T YLER FLIPPED THROUGH THE nursesâ notes and reviewed Amy Kentâs informationâa now-active, healthy child begging her mother to bring her to the playground every day. Post-op transplant visits were some of Tylerâs favorite patient appointments. A child who once buried dreams now had all the hope of growing into adulthood.
Both the child and the family.
He knocked twice and then popped inside the room. It had been one month since Amyâs surgery, and it was a blessing to see the family on this side of things. Happy. Peaceful. Starting to get past the feeling of the dark cloud constantly looming.
Which was why Tyler frowned when he saw the distressed look on Joanna Kentâs face.
The new crop of worry lines aged her ten years. Whatâs going on? He reached to shake her hand in greeting. When he tried to release his grip, she held firmly, and tugged gently so he would look at her. âCan we talk somewhere private after her exam?â
His heart sunk. That type of âtalkâ was just like a girl saying We need to talk  . . . when she was just about to break off a relationship. It was the asterisk of preparation in something that Tyler didnât want to hear.
He was sure of that.
Medically, Amy was vibrant. Her color
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