Page 112

Story: Love Loathe Devotion

Then I laugh, sharp and sudden. “Just… keep your couch free, yeah? I might be sleeping on it come morning.”

Nico cracks the barest grin. “You try to sleep on my couch, and my nonna will shove a plate of pasta in your lap and insist you move into the guest room. Permanently.”

I smile, for real this time.

And for the first time since the door burst open and Reggie started yelling, I feel like I’m standing on steady ground.

I’m not just reacting anymore.

I’m moving.

Because if I’m going to fight for anything—

It’s going to be freedom.

For Joey. For the campaign. For Laney.

And for me.

34.Laney

The TV is already queuedup on the livestream link, the countdown in the corner ticking down like a heartbeat. Thirty-seven minutes to go.

The smell of pepperoni and garlic bread clings to the air, the boxes stacked on the coffee table half-eaten—no one’s really hungry, not tonight, but ordering pizza felt like something normal to do. Something grounding.

Sam sits cross-legged on the couch beside me, the baby monitor gripped in her hand like it’s the only thing keeping her from unraveling. The little screen shows a grainy image of Joey in his room, curled up under his space blanket, one hand tucked beneath his cheek.

“He went down early,” she says quietly, not looking away from the monitor. “Didn’t even finish his juice.”

I rest a gentle hand on her arm. “He was just tired, Sam. He’s had a long few days.”

“I know,” she says, but her voice trembles just a little. “It’s just… he never sleeps through this hour unless he’s run-down.”

Across the room, Lucas stands by the windows, arms folded, staring out into the backyard like he’s waiting for something to appear in the darkness and explain how to fix all of this. Hehasn’t sat once since I arrived. His jaw is tight, his movements short and sharp. I can feel the storm simmering under his skin.

He turns slightly, his eyes flicking to the baby monitor, then to the screen, then to Sam. “You good?” he asks softly.

Sam just nods.

I glance between them—this couple who always feel so tethered to each other—and tonight there’s a fragile hum in the space between them. Not tension, exactly. But fragility. Like every second that passes is weighted with something neither of them wants to say out loud.

The number on the screen changes—36:00.

I lean into the couch cushions, drawing my knees up, trying to stay calm. But my heart’s thudding like a drumline.

This night matters.

Not just because it’s Eddie’s biggest show of the tour. Not just because his name has been trending all day, because celebrities have been posting about the Kidney Donation Chain, because there’s a genuine movement taking shape around this.

It matters because of that little boy in the next room.

Because of the quiet dread in Sam’s voice.

Because of the way Lucas hasn’t stopped scanning the darkness outside like he’s trying to hold the world together with sheer force of will.

“Everything’s going to go perfectly tonight,” I say softly, hoping it will settle something. “The campaign’s going to take off. People are already signing up in droves.”

Sam finally tears her eyes from the monitor to look at me. “You really think so?”