I’m here. I know someone who can help. Meet me in hospital café. G

I looked up as a shadow darkened the doorway.

Gabe.

He was wearing a baseball hat, his eyes obscured by the shadow the bill cast. He’d shaved, but his sharply angled jaw and full lips were instantly recognizable.

I froze, terrified Gabe would come in and introduce himself to Josh. Maybe it had been stupid telling him Josh was his son. Even stupider telling him the hospital Josh was getting treated in. But I hadn’t expected him to come here, to find us.

His gaze landed for a long moment on Josh. I waited, breathless, but a second later Gabe disappeared, the doorway again empty.

I was debating what to do when my cell phone rang. I answered, my voice shaky.

“Hello, Mrs. Sweeney, this is Nicole from Avail Insurance calling about your claim for Joshua Sweeney’s CAR T-cell therapy.”

“Hi. Yes.” I motioned to Moira that I would be right back and stepped into the hall outside Josh’s room.

“I’m really sorry, but unfortunately your insurance plan doesn’t provide coverage for CAR T-cell therapy.”

I almost dropped the phone. I’d assumed they would cover at least some of it.

“What?”

“The insurance plan you’re on doesn’t provide coverage for CAR T-cell therapy,” she repeated.

“But the therapy is FDA-approved.” I parroted Dr. Palmer’s words, my throat so dry I could barely speak.

“Yes,” she agreed. “But CAR T-cell therapy is still so new it’s being reviewed on a case-by-case basis. This is very typical when new therapies are first approved.”

“What is covered then?”

“As I said, we’re looking at policy coverage on a case-by-case basis. I’ve spoken to Josh’s referring doctor and the administration office at Cascade Regional Hospital, and we have a policy of care we can offer for your case.”

My heart leaped with hope, but it was short-lived.

“Naturally, you’ll still need to pay your deductible and all copays, but we can cover physical removal of the white blood cells and reinjecting the cells. We won’t, however, be able to cover reprogramming the cells, as those are sent to a specialist lab. The lab will bill your hospital once they’ve received the white blood cells, and you’ll need to pay Cascade Regional directly before the cells can be reinjected into your son.”

The breath left my body in one giant gasp.

A month. I only had one month.

I pressed a shaking hand to my mouth. “How much will I need to pay?”

“Ninety-eight thousand and four dollars.”

I SANK onto the toilet seat in the accessible bathroom, sweat beading on my forehead. I’d grabbed my purse and the canvas bag Moira had brought Josh’s toys in and escaped the hospital room, promising to bring Moira a blueberry muffin when I returned.