“Baby boy, do you have your special book Aunt B gave you for Show N’ Tell today?”  I glance back at Danté, my heart going all warm and mushy at the sight of his little lopsided grin.

“Yup! Chase is gonna love the trucks in this book!” His little voice is filled with excitement, and his enthusiasm fills the entire car with the purest kind of happiness.

Placing a hand on my husband’s thigh, who is seated in the front passenger seat, I train my gaze on the cars in front of me. Merging onto the I-26 with a twenty-mile drive to the airport isn’t too daunting. Early-morning interstate traffic in Savannah isn’t the worst thing in the world, but we have our share at rush hour, just like everyone else.

“I’m going to miss you these next few days.” Trenton’s head turns my way; it’s clear from the corner of my eye that he’s smiling. “We both are.”

His big hand covers mine. His laptop sits open in front of him as he goes over his presentation one last time before he arrives at the airport and boards his flight to St. Louis. His fingers squeeze mine; his hand is warm and comforting, the way it always feels. Every single time Trenton touches me, it’s like anything that was off-balance suddenly rights itself. He’s my equilibrium, and has been since high school.

“This sale is yours,” I assure him, as I ease into eight a.m. traffic and join the cattle herd toward the airport exit.

“Remember, every time I’m out of town—” Trenton begins.

With a wry smile, I shake my head. “Don’t even say it. How long have we been doing this? You travel nearly every single week. I know that if we need anything, the neighbors across the street will help us out. We’ll be fine, Trenton. Plus, you know Brantley is like a permanent fixture at our house when you’re away.”

I glance over at Trenton in time to see him nod, worry filling his forehead with the little wrinkles he gets there when he’s anxious. “Yeah, I know. It’s just…you know I wouldn’t leave you two at all if I didn’t have to, right? You and Danté are my whole world. I do this to support our family.”

Love explodes in my chest. This man has done everything possible to make sure we have the best in life. I was able to go into business with my best friend a year ago because of him and his success with his pharmaceutical company. It’s not like he loves selling drugs to doctors. He does it because it provides the best possible income for our family, and he wants to make sure we have nothing to worry about financially.

And he’s damn good at it.

“Trenton, you promised me all those years ago, when we were just kids in high school, that you’d always be my rock. You’d always take care of me. And you’ve done that. I’m so blessed and thankful to have you. And Danté.”

It’s that moment that I hear the wheezing gasp from our son. When Trenton and I both glance to the backseat, our little boy’s face is tinged with blue. His chest is heaving, but I can already tell his lungs aren’t getting enough air.

“Oh, God, Trenton…he’s having an asthma attack!” I don’t recognize my voice; it’s at a pitch I never use unless I’m completely panicked.

“Where’s his inhaler?” Trenton’s words are strained, but he’s calm. He places a hand on my shoulder and speaks succinctly. “We keep one in his backpack, right?”

I nod, frantic fear threatening to overwhelm me. “It’s in the trunk! Hurry, Trenton!”

Tossing his laptop onto the floor below him, Trenton releases his seatbelt with no hesitation and climbs through, to the backseat. His soothing voice reaches our son, even as my panic reaches an astronomical level.

“It’s okay, buddy. I’m gonna get your inhaler and your mask, and you’ll be breathing better in just a second.”

I try taking deep breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth while I focus on my job right now, which is driving. The sound of Danté’s wheezing gasps, desperate attempts to pull air into his lungs, distract me, though, no matter how hard I try to focus on the road.

God…if you’re up there. Please help my son. He just needs another couple of seconds for Trenton to find his inhaler. Please. Please. Please.

Trenton’s voice yells from the trunk. “I don’t see his backpack, Arden! Are you sure you packed it for his school day today?”

Goddammit! I slam my hand against the steering wheel, wanting nothing more than to pull the car over to the side of the road and find it myself. Maybe even breathe for my son, if that were possible. “Look again, Trenton! I put it back there myself this morning!”

Several seconds go by, each of which is filled with my own thudding heartbeat and our son’s struggling breaths. Finally, finally, I breathe a small sigh of relief as Trenton’s triumphant voice sounds through the car. “Got it!”

I hear him climbing back up to sit on the center console beside Danté. Risking a glance backward, I see him stretching the elastic of the mask over Danté’s ears. Danté’s eyes are wide as he watches his daddy, waiting for the medicine to help him breathe again.

Each and every time his dad leaves us, Danté’s anxiety of being without Trenton has been increasing. This is the first time he’s had an asthma attack because of it, but he was diagnosed with the disease during his three-year-old checkup.

It takes several more painful seconds before Trenton’s voice meets my ears, and it’s the very best thing I’ve ever heard.

“He’s okay, baby. He’s breathing just fine now.”

I sigh, relief filling me like a hot air balloon, ready for liftoff. Nothing matters to me more than my son, his heath, and his safety. I reach back to grip his little leg, squeezing for all I’m worth to make sure he knows I’m here.

“Good boy, that’s it,” I murmur encouragingly. I risk another glance backward, just to make sure his face is no longer blue, and movement from the corner of my eye catches and holds my full attention.

A car, small, black and sporty, weaves from somewhere behind me to cut me off. I don’t even have time to blare on my horn before the yellow Jeep in the lane beside us darts over without seeing the newcomer right in front of me. The collision sends a shock through my entire body as metal grinds against metal. Slamming on my breaks, I realize much too late what a mistake I’ve made. My right hand flies out to try and grab hold of Trenton, any part of him, just as he catapults forward due to the sudden, jarring stop. His name screams from my mouth as he flies through the windshield, and the last thing I see before the final impact is the unforgiving hunks of metal looming before me. My car slams into the wreck in front of us and then careens off to the side before flipping into the air and turning, over and over again.

The last thing I hear before the blackness engulfs me is the sound of my son’s terrified scream.