Sebastian ran to them, knelt on Dylan’s other side. With one hand, he flicked open a Swiss Army knife. With his other, he felt the area just below Dylan’s Adam’s apple. “Dylan, I’m going to open an airway into your lungs.” Then with full assurance and zero hesitation, he slid the knife through the skin of Dylan’s throat. Instantly, blood rose to meet the blade. He twisted the knife just enough to open the incision he’d made, pulled a wide red straw from his jacket pocket, and inserted it into the hole.

She heard air pulling through the straw, urgent and deep.

Dylan relaxed slightly.

“That’s it.” Sebastian used his fingers to close the hole around the straw. “Take it easy and breathe.”

The whistling, beautiful sound of an exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

“Good job.” Sebastian looked straight into Dylan’s eyes. “Did your throat ram into the steering wheel when your truck hit the tree?”

Dylan gave a slight nod.

“Your lungs are getting the air they need,” Sebastian said. “You’re going to be okay. Do you hear me, Dylan?”

Another nod.

Leah was too terrified to believe what Sebastian had just said, that Dylan was going to be okay. And much too terrified to believe that he wasn’t.

Dylan’s focus flicked to her. Brown curls fell against the bright autumn leaves blanketing the ground.

“I’m here,” Leah said to the boy she’d loved since the day he was born. The one who was more important to her than her own wants, her own desires, her own life. “I’m here, sweetheart.”

Sebastian tightened his hold on the skin around the straw, doing his best to create a seal.

He loved Leah. And Leah loved Dylan. He’d once lost what he’d loved, so he would move mountains and oceans with his bare hands to ensure that she did not endure the same pain.

He’d perforated the cartilaginous rings of the trachea. The pressure he was exerting on the wound would mitigate the loss of blood. Even so, he could feel it running down the sides of Dylan’s neck.

“I performed a tracheotomy,” he explained to Dylan, “which means that the straw is functioning as your windpipe, allowing oxygen in and out. The straw will tide us over until we get you to the hospital. There’s a trip in an ambulance in your near future. And a hospital stay. I’m sorry to tell you that hospital food is just as bad as its reputation would lead you to believe.”

This situation had stripped years off Dylan. Though he was trying to appear brave, he looked young and defenseless.

Leah’s concentration remained trained on her brother. She probably wasn’t aware that tears were wetting her face and turning her lashes spiky.