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I carry her inside, closing the door gently behind us, the silence of the house now heavier, but somehow less lonely.

We settle on the couch, her little head resting on my thigh as I stroke her ears. “What should we call you?” I murmur. “Hmm?”

She yawns, then blinks at me like she already knows.

I smile. “Merlyn. That’s it. My favorite show. And you’re going to be my sidekick while your dad’s off being famous.”

I snap a quick photo and send it to Eddie.

Laney: Her name is Merlyn ??

His reply comes just moments later.

Eddie: It’s perfect. Just like you.

I clutch the phone to my chest, wipe my eyes again, and look down at the little pup curled up against me.

“I miss him already,” I whisper.

Merlyn just snuggles in closer.

And in that quiet moment, I know I’ll be okay.

Because he gave me a piece of himself to hold on to.

Until he comes home.

27.Laney

Merlyn’sin the passenger seat, her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth, ears perked like she’s on her way to a royal audience rather than an afternoon visit to Sam and Lucas’s. The little pink bandana I tied around her neck flutters with every gust of air from the window, and every now and then she sneezes, startled by her own excitement.

I can’t help but smile.

“I think you’re going to love Joey,” I tell her, glancing her way. “He might be the only human on earth more dramatic than you.”

She barks once like she agrees, then climbs halfway into my lap, tail thumping against the seat.

It’s been… a weird few days. Good, in that Eddie calls me constantly—between rehearsals, after sound check, when he’s half-asleep in some fancy hotel bed in Berlin. His texts light up my phone like a lifeline:

Just ate the worst airport sandwich of my life

Send me a pic of Merlyn, I miss her (and you, obviously). Band says hi.

Every one of them makes me smile. But they also make me ache.

Because I miss him.

His hands, his voice, the way he hums when he walks around the kitchen barefoot in the morning. The space he took up in my days—and nights. Now, everything feels too quiet, even with Merlyn’s boundless energy filling in the silence.

I’m just hitting the main road when my phone buzzes in the center console. I glance at it—Unknown Number.

A chill slides up my spine.

I ignore it.

Merlyn growls low, like she senses my tension. I stroke her head. “It’s nothing.”

The phone buzzes again. Unknown Number.