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Sam’s right behind him, barefoot, coffee in hand, hair up in a messy bun. “Oh my God, you brought me therapy on four legs. Bless you.”

Merlyn launches herself into Joey’s arms—well, more like topples him into the grass—and, within seconds, it’s chaos. Joey is giggling uncontrollably, Merlyn is licking his face like she’s found her soulmate, and Sam is recording the whole thing on her phone with literal tears in her eyes. I know Merlyn licking his face isn’t ideal because his immune system is compromised but I also know Sam wants him to enjoy things other kids do.

“I can’t,” she whispers, wiping under her lashes. “This is too cute. I’m going to die.”

Lucas comes out with his keys in one hand and a box of hardware supplies in the other. “Hey, Laney,” he says, nodding toward the truck. “How’s she handling?”

“She’s perfect,” I say, smoothing a hand over the hood like I’m praising a thoroughbred. “Thank you again for making sure everything’s working before Eddie left.”

He shrugs like it’s nothing. “You need anything while I’m out?”

I hesitate for a half-second, but smile. “Nope. All good. Just puppy wrangling today.”

He studies me a second longer than necessary, like he’s thinking about asking something else—but then he just nods and kisses Sam on the temple before heading for the car.

I watch him go, heart aching a little at how easy it would’ve been to just tell him. About Randy. The call. The things he said.

But I don’t

We’re sitting on the back porch, coffee cups warm in our hands, our legs tucked up on the weathered wood bench as we watch Joey and Merlyn play in the grass like they were born to be a team.

Joey’s in heaven—laughing, squealing, tossing a chewed-up rubber ball that Merlyn brings back every time, her tail wagging like she’s just saved the world. The sun’s out now, that soft late-morning glow that makes everything look gentler, golden.

“He’s smiling more today,” I say, glancing over at Sam.

She’s quiet.

Her fingers are curled tight around her mug, the faint tremble in her knuckles giving her away. She’s trying to smile, but it’s tight around the edges.

“Yeah,” she says after a moment. “He’s having a good morning.”

She doesn’t say ‘He’s doing great.’

She says ‘morning’, like she’s counting the good ones in half-day increments now.

I reach over and nudge her arm gently with mine. “What’s going on?”

She takes a sip of coffee like it might buy her time. But then she exhales and says quietly, “His consultant called yesterday after his labs came back. They didn’t like his numbers.”

I freeze, my heart thudding. “What kind of numbers?”

Sam’s eyes are fixed on Joey, her voice even, but her grip on the mug tightens. “Kidney function’s down again. Creatinine’s up. They’re adjusting his meds. Again. But…” She trails off.

“But they’re worried?” I finish for her.

She nods. Her throat moves like she’s trying to swallow the fear back down. “They didn’t say anything definitive, but the way she said ‘let’s keep an eye on things’…” She shakes her head. “I’ve heard that tone before.”

“Sam…” I set my cup down and turn toward her fully, laying my hand over hers. “You’re not alone in this.”

“I know,” she says softly. “God, I do. And Lucas has been amazing. But sometimes I look at Joey and I just—” her voice breaks. “I want to scream.”

I grip her hand tighter, just as Joey, laughing a second ago, suddenly slows. His arms sag a little as he watches Merlyn bounce in front of him.

“I’m tired,” he says quietly, looking at Sam. “Can I sit with you now?”

Sam’s already halfway out of her seat, setting her mug aside. “Of course, baby. Come here.”

Joey stumbles a bit on his way over—not dramatically, just enough to notice—but Sam catches him and eases him into her lap like he’s still her baby and, at four, he still is, and it breaks my heart.