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“We already discussed this,” she began calmly, but her voice broke on the last word. “He’s too old for surgery. You yourself said he might not survive it—”

“But…” Eli interrupted, yet when Trudy shook her head, he said no more.

Beth watched the helpless resignation set into his features, and her heart broke a little for a man she barely knew, a beagle she’d barely met, and a lovely woman who seemed too wise in the ways of love and loss for this to be her first experience with it.

“Can we do it here, or should we go to him?” Trudy asked.

Eli swallowed, and Trudy lowered her hand.

“He’s resting comfortably, so why don’t we go to him?”

Trudy nodded, and Eli held the door open for her.

Beth sat frozen, not sure what to do. She suddenly felt out of place, like she was about to be witness to something too intimate, an overstepping of boundaries she wasn’t sure she was ready to cross.

“Are you coming?” Eli asked, answering her unspoken question.

“Oh.” Beth bolted up from her chair. “Of course.”

His blue eyes were now clouded over with gray, and Beth wondered if this happened every time Dr. Murphy had to let an animal go. Didn’t both doctors and vets somehow detach from situations like this? If not, how could they possibly continue in such a profession?

Eli pulled the door shut after she exited the room. Then he took the lead and headed toward the imaging lab where Frederick waited.

Trudy grabbed Beth’s hand and leaned in close.

“My Frederick was Eli’s first patient,” she whispered. “I’ve made my peace, but he’s going to need a friend when all is said and done.” The other woman nodded toward Eli, who had stilled with his hand on the door to the clinic’s imaging room.

This wasn’t just any loss for the doctor Beth had secretly marveled at all week. His first patient. She couldn’t imagine the hurt he must feel, and she didn’t know how she would be any help to him when, as Trudy said, all was said and done. But she could do one thing. She could let go of the resentment she’d been hanging on to all week.

So she did. And just like that, all Beth’s anger rushed out of her in one epic wave of release.

They followed Eli into the imaging room where Frederick lay drowsily on a towel atop a stainless steel table, an IV tube taped to one of his legs.

Trudy ran to her dog and showered him with pets and kisses.

Eli strode to the other side of the table and began typing a combination onto the keypad of a small safe.

Beth grabbed his free hand, and Eli flinched, but his shoulders relaxed as he pivoted to face her.

“Whatever you need, Eli. I’m here.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, as if he was trying to smile. But he didn’t. Or more likely, couldn’t.

“Thank you” was all he said before getting back to work preparing the medication.

Beth’s throat tightened, and her heart ached. For the dog and its human, yes. But when she looked at the doctor—at the man who had to perform the deed himself—she felt awash in a grief she could not explain. All she knew was that this would be the last appointment for the Murphy Veterinary Clinic today.

Eli’s phone lit up in his pocket. He glanced down at it, hands gloved as he readied the syringe.

“Can you grab that?” he asked, voice rough as he looked at Beth.

She nodded, then reached into the pocket to retrieve the phone.

“It’s a text,” she told him. “From Boone.”

“Shit,” he hissed. “Midnight’s appointment.”

Behind them, Trudy sang softly to Frederick: “In My Life” by the Beatles.