Lauren sat at her kitchen table, laptop open, fingers flying over the keyboard.
She had spent the last two hours reading everything she could about kidney transplants—how the process worked, how donors were matched, the risks, the waiting time.
The waiting time.
Her stomach twisted as she scrolled through another article. For some patients, it took years to find a match. Years.
Larry didn’t have years.
She exhaled sharply, pushing a hand through her hair. This had to be possible. There had to be another way.
The sound of the door opening made her look up.
Larry stood there, looking at her with wary eyes. “What are you doing?”
Lauren hesitated. He had been resistant to the idea of searching for a donor, acting like it was something distant, something to deal with later.
She didn’t
