The Clinic for Pediatric and Congenital Heart Diseases here at Beckett Memorial was one of the most prestigious in the country, alongside Boston Children’s, the Cleveland Clinic, Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia, and the University of California San Francisco.

The surgical team and the pediatric intensive care team here ran an extremely successful defense against death. They’d do whatever they could to ensure that they did not lose Mateo. Or Josiah.

Not today, God.

Not on my watch.

When Sebastian entered Josiah’s room that evening, a distinctive, now-familiar energy closed around him. None of the energy originated with the boy, who lay unconscious on his warming bed. All of it came from the bright, hard-working machines sustaining his life.

Josiah’s light brown hair lay against his round head at strange angles. He had big cheeks and a small mouth.

As Sebastian stood at his bedside, feeling his tiredness, an image of Leah slipped into his mind. He saw again exactly how she’d looked at the farmers market, surrounded by flowers. He replayed the moment when her eyes met his—

Stop it.

Weeks had passed since that day, and he wanted her out of his head.

He was no longer a child who took toys from other people and felt nothing when they cried. But that didn’t mean that it was in his nature to sit on the sidelines while other people pursued the things he wanted.

It wasn’t.

It was in his nature to go after the things he wanted single-mindedly. Which is exactly what he would have done had the obstacle between himself and Leah been anything and anyone other than Ben. As it was, he could do nothing, which sent frustration scratching down his limbs.

She’s off limits, he kept telling himself.

She’s off limits.

Three days later, Ben stopped in the open doorway of Leah’s classroom. “Want anything from the break room?” he asked.

She paused the motion of the sponge she was using to clean her whiteboard. Ben’s easygoing, open personality never failed to brighten her day. “Watermelon-flavored sparkling water?”

“You bet.”

He vanished. The space he’d vacated framed a view of the hallway, lockers, and passing students.

Ben occupied the classroom across the hall and four doors down from hers. They shared a free period, so at the same time almost every day, he stopped by to ask if she wanted anything from the teacher break room.

She finished cleaning her board and turned to observe her happy, tidy classroom. Semicircles of chairs radiated away from where she was standing toward the opposing wall, which contained a bank of windows. She’d stocked her bookshelves with textbooks, binders, and notebooks from her years at Clemmons, her large personal collection of books about math, and a few potted succulents and inspirational quotes.