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I pause, resting a hand on the edge of the counter. “Yeah?”

He nods, brushing his hands off. “We’re watching the London show. Eddie’s announcing the kickoff for the Kidney Donation Chain campaign. It’s a big moment. Thought you might want to see it live… with people who love him too.”

A soft warmth fills my chest. That invitation means more than he probably realizes.

“Should I bring Merlyn?” I ask, glancing at the furball who’s now lounging in a patch of evening sun, looking proud of her destruction.

Lucas laughs, the sound low and real. “Of course. Joey’ll lose his mind. You might not get her back.”

I smile, then lean against the counter, letting the quiet settle for a moment before I ask, “Why didn’t you and Sam go to London for it?”

He looks down, expression shifting—lighter to heavier in an instant. “We talked about it. We really did. But…” He trails off. His jaw tightens.

“But Joey,” I finish softly.

He nods, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. We didn’t want to leave him. His doctor wasn’t thrilled with the idea of us going anywhere, anyway. His numbers dipped again last week. Nothing drastic. Just… enough to make it clear we’re still on the clock.”

The words land like a stone in my chest. I step closer and rest a hand gently on his arm. “You’re doing everything you can,” I say quietly. “This campaign… this whole thing? It’s going to work. It has to.”

Lucas doesn’t say anything for a long moment. He just stands there, looking at the floor like maybe if he stares hard enough, he can will his pain into something manageable.

Then he lifts his gaze. And for the first time since I’ve known him, the weight he carries every day flickers in his eyes.

“I hope so,” he says, and his voice is rougher than usual. Almost like gravel.

It’s not just words. It’s a prayer. A plea. A confession he’s too strong to say out loud most of the time.

That he’s scared.

That the clock’s ticking.

That this little boy—the boy who changed my life too—is running out of time.

I squeeze his arm, steady and sure. “We’ll watch together tonight. Cheer Eddie on. And keep doing what we can.”

He nods once. No smile. But something steadier returns to his expression. The mask he wears so well slipping back into place—but not before I see the crack underneath.

“Thanks, Laney,” he says, softer now. “For everything.”

And when we walk out of the kitchen, I glance back at the spot where we’d been cleaning a mess made by a too-smart puppy.

And I think… maybe it’s okay that things get messy sometimes.

Maybe the beauty comes from loving each other through it.

Even when it’s heavy.

Even when we’re scared.

33.Eddie

The suite is quiet,except for the low thrum of the city beyond the glass. London stretches out below me, a blur of lights and movement, the whole skyline humming like a stage waiting to be claimed. My black stage clothes are hanging by the closet. Mic checks are done. Sound is dialed in. Everything’s set.

Tonight’s the big one.

The one.

The launch of the Kidney Donation Chain campaign. Weeks of planning. A lifetime of weight behind it.