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He leans against her chest, eyes fluttering closed almost immediately, little fingers fisting the hem of her shirt.

Merlyn trots over and circles twice before curling into a tight ball at their feet, her head resting across Sam’a feet.

Sam holds her son like he might break if she lets go. Her hand strokes his hair, over and over, her gaze unfocused and wet around the edges.

“He used to run for hours,” she whispers.

I lean against her side. “He will again.”

She gives a quiet, bitter-sounding laugh. “Do you believe that? Or are you just saying it?”

“I believe it,” I say, and I mean it—because I have to. For her. For Joey.

For the part of me that’s already bracing for what happens if this chain we’re building doesn’t lead to a donor fast enough.

She exhales shakily and rests her chin on the top of Joey’s head.

“I hate being scared all the time,” she murmurs. “It’s like there’s this… countdown, ticking in the background of every good moment.”

I glance down at Merlyn, who looks up at me with those warm brown eyes and lets out a sigh like even she understands the weight in the air.

“Then we just hold on to the good ones harder,” I whisper. “And we keep going.”

Sam nods slowly.

But her hand doesn’t stop stroking Joey’s hair.

And mine doesn’t let go of hers.

The house is dim,lit only by the golden glow from the kitchen where I’m pacing with my phone pressed to my ear. Merlyn’s curled up in her dog bed, paws twitching as she dreams, blissfully unaware of the storm spinning inside me.

Eddie answers on the third ring, his voice warm but tired.

“Hey, baby.”

The sound of him—just that—makes my heart pull in my chest like it’s reaching for something it can’t quite hold. “Hey,” I whisper, sinking down onto one of the kitchen stools, curling my legs beneath me. “You free to talk?”

“Always for you,” he says. “What’s going on?”

I hesitate for a second, but then it all comes tumbling out. “I went to Sam’s today. Took Merlyn. Joey and the pup were inseparable—adorable, honestly. He laughed so much… but then he got tired. Like, really tired. Crawled into Sam’s lap like he couldn’t hold himself up anymore.”

Eddie doesn’t speak right away, but I hear the soft shift of fabric, like he’s sitting down.

“Sam told me the consultant’s worried about his numbers. It just hit me harder today. He looked so small.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then his voice—quiet, thick. “I talked to Lucas earlier.”

I blink, surprised. “You did?”

“Yeah. He didn’t go into detail, but… he’s hurting. You know how he is. Keeps everything locked up until it’s too heavy to carry.”

I picture it—Lucas’s tired eyes, the way his voice sometimes tightens when he talks about Joey, like he’s trying to keep the cracks from showing.

“He’s scared, Laney. Just like Sam. Just like all of us.”

I nod, even though he can’t see it. “I hate feeling so helpless.”

“You’re not,” Eddie says firmly. “You’re doing more than anyone. This donor chain, being there for Sam, just being present. That’s more than you know.”