I don’t have time to respond because a set of nurses walks through the double doors behind her bed.

“Time to get you two set up. Let’s go.”

I’m still struggling for words as we’re rolled into a large room filled with everything needed to take out Holly’s kidney and put it in me. The team is efficient, hooking up all the wires and wrapping blood pressure cuffs around our arms. It’s only when I see one of the medical team members plug a syringe into Holly’s tubing and tell her to count backward from ten that I realize my time is up.

“Ten, nine—”

“Holly!” I’m frantic for her to meet my eyes, but when she turns her head, her pupils don’t really focus on me.

“Eight—”

“I love you!”

Her lids are still half-open, but her mouth has gone slack. She doesn’t say, Seven. She doesn’t say, I love you, too.

Instead, the doctor adjusts her head and fits a breathing tube in her mouth.

“Okay, buddy, I’m gonna need you to count backward from ten.”

I tear my gaze off Holly and meet the eyes of the guy holding the syringe meant to knock me out. Before I can rage at him for not letting me know I lost my last seconds with her, he pushes the plunger down.

They all expect me to follow the rules, rattle off numbers until I pass out.

But I’m busy. Every part of my rapidly fading brain is begging the universe not to take Holly away from me just when I’ve found her.

HOLLY

Head fuzzy. My head is fuzzy.

I blink slow. Real slow.

This room is fuzzy. Those lights are fuzzy.

And bright.

I’m awake.

“Good morning.”

“Holly!”

Did I say that?

“I’m Holly.”

Laugh. Someone is laughing. His face is fuzzy. His teeth are bright.

“Sorry. I’ll shave closer next time, so my face isn’t so fuzzy.”

Oh, good. He knows he’s fuzzy, too.

“How do you feel, little sis?”

His face is near my face.

“You’re Marcus.”

Bright smile again.

“Yes, I am. And you’re Holly. You’re done with your surgery. You’re in the recovery room.”

“Am I sick?”

“No, Holly. You’re not sick.”

“Okay, good.”

“Hey, sweetie.” Another face. Darker but still fuzzy.

“I don’t think she realizes how much she’s actually verbalizing.”

“Pops!”

More laughter. Deep, deep laughter.

“That’s right. Take your time, baby girl.”

“I love you.” I try to reach my hands up to squeeze their fuzzy faces, but my arms are heavy.

“We love you, too.”

“I love Ben, too.”

“You do?”

Neither of the fuzzy faces is speaking.

Who’s talking?

“Oh, sorry, dear. That was just me.”

Ben’s mom. She’s fuzzy, too.

Did they decide to have a fuzzy party, and I wasn’t invited? Or was I invited?

More laughing.

“Ben. I love Ben. Where’s Ben?”

Fuzzy faces frown.

“He’s still in surgery, sweetie.”

“Why? I want him.”

“I’m sure he’ll be out soon.”