Kevin Lane used to be the one who called the shots. Andrew just listened.

But now everything had changed. The balance had tipped, and Andrew's words mattered more than his grandfather's.

Kevin was proud of his grandson's abilities, but pride didn't make it any easier to let go. He wanted to have a say, but his hands were tied. All he could do was watch things play out.

After a long, heavy pause, Kevin's voice was low and serious. “Andrew, I hope you know what you're doing."

"I do," Andrew answered.

Kevin hesitated, then finally agreed and hung up.

Andrew put down his phone and looked at Emily Blair. "You'll hear something soon."

She met his gaze, her voice quiet. "Thank you."

Andrew played with his phone, spinning it between his fingers. Emily watched him for a moment, then reached over and gently took the phone from his hand, setting it back on the nightstand.

She had come here ready for a fight. She'd prepared herself to argue, to convince Andrew to work with the police. She thought she'd have to go all out, maybe even beg. She never imagined he'd say yes so quickly, or that he'd talk Kevin Lane into it so easily.

Part of her wanted to leave right away, but Andrew was lying in that hospital bed because he'd saved her, and now he'd helped her again. She couldn't just walk out like it meant nothing.

She glanced around the room, searching for something to say. Finally, she blurted out, "Does your wound still hurt?"

Andrew looked at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You look so uncomfortable. Like someone's forcing you to talk with a knife to your throat."

Emily froze, mouth half open, but no words came out. Silence filled the room.

Andrew let it go. "It still hurts a little, but it's fine. A few more days and I'll be out of here."

Emily let out a quiet breath, relieved. She tried again, asking, "Has being here messed up your work? Is the caregiver taking good care of you?"

Andrew's dark eyes stayed on her. "Everything's fine."

Emily nodded, glancing around but coming up empty. She couldn't think of another question.

Andrew was still in bed, an IV taped to the back of his hand. He was the patient, the one who should have felt weak or vulnerable, but somehow he still seemed completely in control, just like always.

Her eyes landed on the nearly empty kettle under the nightstand.

She walked over and picked it up, feeling how light it was.

"I'll go get you some hot water," she said, giving it a little shake.

"You don't have to," Andrew said. "I want you to stay here with me."

Emily hesitated, frowning a bit, not sure how to respond.

Andrew looked up at her. Maybe it was just the angle, but his eyes seemed softer, almost pleading. He looked at her with quiet hopefulness.

Emily held the kettle and, after a brief pause, said, "I'll come right back after I fill it.”

Then she left the room.

Andrew watched her go, his eyes fixed on her until she was out of sight. Only then did he look away, his hands slowly curling into fists.

At the water station, Emily stared as the hot water flowed into the kettle. Her mind drifted until her phone rang, snapping her back. She checked the caller ID. It was the police.

They told her they'd reached Dennis Lane and had gotten a blood sample. The sample was on its way, and they'd probably have results by tomorrow.

Emily felt a huge weight lift off her chest. This was real progress.

She hung up and saw the kettle was full. When the caregiver offered to help, Emily shook her head and carried it back herself.

She stood by Andrew's bed. He gestured to the sofa behind her. "Why don't you sit for a bit?"

Emily shook her head. "I need to get going soon."

Andrew's eyes dimmed a little.

Emily kept her tone calm. "If you need anything while you're here, just tell the caregiver. She'll pass it on to me and I'll handle it. Focus on getting better and let her take care of the rest."