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I hit call.

It rings once.

Twice.

She picks up.

“Eddie?” Her voice is thin. Cracked. Raw with everything she’s holding back.

“Hey, baby,” I whisper, sinking into the seat, heart shattering at how small she sounds. “I’m here. I’m on the plane. We’re taking off now.”

There’s silence. A few uneven breaths. Then— “I was supposed to be watching you on stage,” she says, the words trembling. “And instead I’m here and I didn’t know what to do and he looked so sick and—”

“Laney,” I cut in gently. “Listen to me. Close your eyes if you have to, but listen to my voice.”

Her breathing hitches again.

“I’m here,” I whisper. “I’m right here. And it’s gonna be okay. We’re coming to you. Joey’s with the best doctors. Lucas and Sam are there. And you—you’ve done everything right.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she says, voice cracking on the words. “I just—I panicked. I forgot everything. And Merlyn’s at their house and I shouldn’t have left her and—”

“Laney,” I say, firm but soft. “Stop. Breathe.”

She goes quiet.

“Merlyn is safe. I promise. I’ll have someone go get her. Or I’ll get her myself when I land. You don’t have to worry about that right now.”

Her breath comes shaky. “Okay.”

“You’re doing so good, baby,” I say, lowering my voice more. “You were there when they needed you. You stayed. You’re stronger than you think.”

There’s a soft, broken sound on the other end—half-sob, half-exhale.

“I just—he looked so little, Eddie,” she whispers. “And Lucas looked like the world was ending and I couldn’t fix anything.”

“You’re not supposed to fix it,” I say, heart thudding. “You just have to hold on. And you are. You’re holding all of them up without even seeing it.”

She sniffles. “I feel better now. Talking to you.”

I close my eyes, gripping the armrest until my knuckles ache. “Good. That’s all I want. You’re not alone, okay? You’ve got me. Always.”

A quiet moment passes. The pilot’s voice filters through the cabin—five minutes to takeoff.

“I think I’m gonna step outside for a second,” she says softly. “Just get some air.”

“Good idea,” I say, my voice still gentle. “Let the air clear your head. Just keep your phone on you.”

“I will.”

“I love you,” I whisper. “So damn much.”

“I love you too,” she breathes. “Be safe.”

“I’ll be with you soon. Hang in there for me, baby.”

She doesn’t say anything, but I hear the quiet click as she ends the call.

I press the phone to my chest and stare out the window as the engines rumble louder.