Cross didn’t ask questions lightly, and the way he said Vincent’s name—almost carefully—only added to my unease.
I swallowed hard, knowing there was no point in lying. He’d see right through me anyway.
“He’s…” I hesitated, my throat dry. “He’s not okay. The transplant—it’s been delayed.”
Cross’s brow furrowed, his expression darkening. “Why?”
“The donor…” I started, my voice shaking slightly. “The donor changed their mind. They won’t do it anymore.”
For a moment, there was silence between us. Cross didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just stood there, absorbing my words. His reaction wasn’t what I expected. No anger, no frustration—just a quiet, heavy sadness that seemed to settle in his eyes.
“What about you?” he asked softly. “How are you holding up with all this?”
I blinked at the une
