“You won’t be disappointed.” Before moving on, Ben takes another sip from his water bottle. The markings on the side let him know how much he’s consumed and how much more he can drink today.

As we continue moving, I consider how his life will change once the donation is complete. First off, no more dialysis. I’m giddy at the thought, but I realize I’m going to miss reading together.

Is that something friends can still do?

Although, maybe after both donations are complete … I could ask him about being more than friends then. We won’t owe each other anything at that point.

I bring up a mental calendar in my mind, wishing I had my physical one with me. Mapping out the upcoming weeks, I figure out the best time to bring the subject up.

The transplant will likely happen during our winter break, so obviously not before then. Then, there’s recovery time, which will be longer for Ben than for me, so that gets us into mid- to late-February. After that, I’ll get the chance to see if he still wants to spend time together as regular friends rather than as donor and recipient. And I could ramp up my flirting and observe how he responds. So, another month for that.

I envision flipping through my calendar. Looks like spring is when I should aim for.

When I get back to my apartment, I’ll pull out my planner and pick an exact date.

With a plan in place, a swell of hope makes my chest lighter. I can suffer now, pine after him in silence, but it won’t hurt so much, knowing that maybe, one day, there’ll be a chance that something could happen. I don’t like waiting, but for a shot with Ben, I’ll sit on my hands and bite my tongue.

Like he knows I’m thinking about him, Ben glances back at me with a questioning brow raise.

Not ready to talk, I simply form my mittened hands into two thumbs-up and pair them with a cheerful smile. He grins and focuses forward again.

Yeah, Ben is worth the wait.

BEN

Tonight is the night.

I watch as Holly sidles up to the cliff’s edge, and my heart rate increases. I want to snatch her back from the danger, but instead, I just keep close. Making sure I’m in grabbing distance.

When we broke out from the cover of the forest, her expression was worth every panting breath it had taken to get here. Trees spread in a russet blanket beneath us, and we can see for miles from our vantage point. But this view didn’t come without a cost.

I ache in a way I never did before my kidney failure. When I came here with Grandpa Ben, we’d cross the distance in half the time it took today. Part of me wants to use Holly as the excuse for our slow pace. But, really, it was me.