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Sam’s eyes flicker, the shine behind them dipping just slightly. “He’s… okay. He’s tired. He keeps asking when he can stop going to the doctor. And… he misses you. He asked about your voice again.”

My chest squeezes. “God, Sam. I’m so sorry I haven’t been by.”

“Don’t apologize. I know things have been—complicated. But… he really does miss you. He asks for your lullabies.”

My throat tightens. “Tell him I’ll come by this weekend. I’ll sing the whole damn playlist if he wants.”

She smiles at that. “He’d love that.”

The air between us settles again, a mix of laughter, ache, and quiet understanding. This is why I love Sam. We can go from orgasms and music stars to real-life and kidney transplants without missing a beat.

We sit there a while longer, sipping our drinks, catching up on everything and nothing. And even with the ache in my chest for Joey and the uncertainty of what the next few months might bring with Eddie, right here in this café—with Sam’s laughter and the clink of spoons and the sunlight dancing through steam—I feel grounded.

Not everything has to be figured out right now.

Some things, you just feel.

23.Eddie

She’s curledinto my side, wearing one of my old flannel shirts like it was made for her, and I swear there’s something about this moment—this quietness—that makes me want to bottle it. Her fingers trail gently across my chest, not really drawing anything, just being there, like she’s grounding herself in the shape of me.

I ask, “So… how was coffee with Sam? She interrogate you?”

Laney laughs, soft and fond. “Oh yeah. Full cross-examination. She’s got a talent for it.”

I smile. “She always been like that?”

She shakes her head. “Actually, we haven’t even known each other that long. We met a few years back. I’d just started volunteering on the pediatric ward… and Joey was a patient.”

My chest tightens immediately. Joey.

Lucas told me everything—the appointments, the long nights, the complications. The fact that this tiny, stubborn kid has been fighting for years and still needs a new kidney. A match. And time? It’s not exactly on their side. I lived every second with my best friend even when I wasn’t physically here with them.

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “It’s been a hell of a road for them.”

Laney nods. “He’s still fighting. Every day. Dialysis is brutal on him now, it’s wearing him out. His energy dips faster than it used to. Sam tries to stay upbeat for him, but… I see it. The fear, the exhaustion. It’s right under the surface.”

I feel her body sink a little deeper into mine, like she’s holding the weight of it, and I instinctively wrap my arm tighter around her waist.

“That’s why I’m so glad we’re doing this thing,” she adds. “The kidney chain. Awareness. Trying to find potential donors—anyone who might be a match, even if it’s not directly for Joey. A chain could get him what he needs. It’s a long shot, but…”

“It’s not a long shot,” I cut in, my voice steady. “It’s a plan. And it’s happening. We’re gonna make damn sure it does.”

She glances up at me, and the way she’s looking at me—it’s not just affection. It’s trust. Something raw and real and earned.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“You don’t have to thank me for caring about that kid,” I say, brushing a strand of damp hair from her cheek. “Or for wanting to help. You’d do the same thing. Hell, you’re already doing more than half the work.”

She lets out a soft breath that’s half a laugh. “Sam found me crying in a supply closet once,” she says suddenly. “Over a kid we lost. I thought she’d just ignore me, but she handed me a granola bar and said, ‘Come cry in the break room like a proper adult. It has coffee and walls that don’t echo’. She was a lifesaver.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, that sounds exactly like her.”

Laney smiles, her eyes misty but steady. “She became my person after that. And Joey—he carved out his own place in my heart before I even knew it was happening.”

I press a kiss to her temple, her skin still warm from our earlier closeness. “You’re one of the good ones, Laney.”

Her eyes meet mine and, for a second, we just look. No words, no noise, just that mutual understanding that this thing between us is already more than either of us expected.