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“I know,” she says. “And when it does… he’s gonna need you more than he realizes.”

My throat tightens.

“You okay?” she asks gently.

“No,” I say honestly. “But I will be. Once you’re home.”

“I wish I could be with you.”

“You are.”

She doesn’t say anything, but I hear the catch in her breath.

“Hey,” I say, voice rough now. “We’ll get through this.”

“Even if it feels like we’re all splintering?”

“Especially then.”

A nurse walks into Reese’s room—I hear the soft knock, the shuffle of movement. Mya murmurs something to her, then comes back on the line.

“I have to go,” she says. “They’re running new labs.”

“I know.”

“I love you, Fletcher.”

It knocks the breath from my lungs every time she says it.

“I love you too, Mya.”

When the call ends, the kitchen is still quiet.

But I don’t feel alone anymore.

I find Thorin in the barn, pacing like a caged animal, eyes bloodshot and jaw clenched so tight it looks carved from stone. Benji’s perched on an overturned bucket, fiddling with a piece of hay between his fingers, while Carson leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching Thorin like he might spontaneously combust.

I step inside, boots echoing against the concrete floor. The cold hits me first—then the weight of everything else. The grief. The guilt. The pressure. It’s thick in the air, swirling like smoke with no open window to escape through.

“Hey,” I say quietly.

Thorin doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even glance my way.

Benji nods, Carson lifts his chin, and I shove my hands into the pockets of my hoodie, trying to find the right words that won’t set him off.

“I’ve been thinking,” I start, stepping closer. “Trying to come up with something that’ll work.”

Thorin scoffs—loud and bitter. “Unless that something involves canceling the tour, I’m not interested.”

My gut twists, but I push forward. “We can’t cancel, Thor. We already did once. Alex said the venues won’t give us a third chance. And this one… it’s Madison Square Garden. That’s not just another show, it’s the kind of milestone bands spend their lives chasing.”

His head jerks toward me. “You think I give a fuck about a milestone right now?”

“No. I think you care about Reese. And I think if you throw away this tour, she’ll blame herself for it.”

That lands. I see it in the way his chest rises, then stills. Like I pulled the emergency brake on a runaway train.

“We have three shows in New York,” I continue, voice low. “Then we get a week off. After that, three shows on the East Coast—another week break. Then the Southern run. You fly home on the breaks. Maggie and Walker will be here, and Mya too. You won’t miss a thing with Eli or Reese. And she’ll know you’re still fighting for everything you built.”