Her hands found his chest first, palms flattening against the cotton of his shirt, feeling the frantic, heavy thud of his heart trying to break free. She held him there a second, grounding him, grounding herself, before she pulled back just enough to look at him.
Iyisha traced her thumb slowly along his lower lip, lingering where it was still damp from her mouth.
"We'll try stem cells for Lance," she said quietly. "But it isn't guaranteed. It might not make him better."
Malcolm nodded once, small and tight, his gaze already dropping back to her mouth like he couldn't look anywhere else.
She swallowed. "We won't be sure," she added, softer now. "If it helps him… or if it does nothing."
Another nod. His jaw flexed, tension pulling tight across his face, but no words came.
Then his hands moved.
