I left them to put in their order, notifying Chuck, and then I turned to check on my tables. Twelve was almost out of soda, and they were still talking.

Damn it. I’d known she would need more.

Don wasn’t quite finished, but he was sitting still, a blank stare on his face. His glasses had fallen down the bridge of his nose, barely hanging on at the tip.

“Don?” I said.

He fell over, hitting the tiled floor hard with his shoulder and head. His glasses slid off his face, flying a few feet across the floor.

“Don!” I yelled, running over to him.

Once I reached him, I fell to my knees and cradled his head with my hands. I leaned over and then looked to Phaedra and Chuck, who had both run out of the kitchen.

“He’s not breathing.” The reality of what that meant made my heart sink. “He’s not breathing! Someone, help him!” I screamed.

Taylor, Zeke, and Dalton all joined me on the floor. Zeke checked Don’s pulse and then looked at Taylor as he shook his head.

“Call an ambulance!” Taylor yelled to Phaedra. “Scoot back, sweetheart.” He positioned himself next to Don and crossed his hands, one over the other, on the center part of Don’s lower chest.

Dalton angled Don’s head upward and then pinched his nose, breathing into Don’s mouth once, before Taylor began compressions.

I crawled backward several feet until Kirby knelt beside me. Don’s glasses were next to my hand, so I snatched them up and held them to my chest, watching the guys working on him. Everyone was quiet, listening to Taylor counting compressions aloud and instructing Dalton when to administer breaths.

Zeke checked Don’s pulse, and each time he shook his head, I felt my body sink lower.

Taylor was out of breath, but he took one look at me, and whatever expression was on my face gave him renewed strength. “C’mon, Don!” Taylor said. “Breathe!” he barked to Dalton.

Dalton leaned over, giving a breath, all hope gone from his eyes.

“Taylor,” Zeke said, touching Taylor’s arm.

Taylor shrugged Zeke off, continuing to press into Don’s chest. “I’m not giving up.” He looked up at me. “I’m not giving up.”

Chuck picked me up off the floor and supported my weight as he held me to his side. “I’m sorry, kiddo.”

Just a few minutes after the sirens could be heard, they were loud and right outside the door, the lights casting reds and blues inside the Bucksaw.

Taylor, Dalton, and Zeke let the paramedics take over, one of them patting Taylor on the back. They loaded Don onto the gurney and carted him outside into the rain and then into the ambulance.

Taylor heaved, exhausted after using his entire upper body for so long.

“Is Don going to be okay?” Chuck asked.