“I didn’t want him to be alone, Mom.”
For a moment, the kitchen went completely quiet.
I understood immediately.
Daniel.
The roadside.
The truck.
The thought that his father had spent his final moments without family nearby.
Logan had carried that memory for two years.
And now, when he found someone else in trouble, he refused to walk away.
“Did Mr. Henson survive?” I asked.
Benny smiled gently.
“He’s alive. The paramedics restored his heartbeat, and he was conscious during transport.”
I exhaled.
“Thank goodness.”
“He’s at St. Agnes,” Benny added. “Your hospital.”
Then he looked toward Logan.
“The medical team believes the CPR he received before the ambulance arrived was very important.”
Tears rolled down my face.
My son had helped save a life.
The same teenager I’d spent months worrying about had been quietly preparing himself to help someone in an emergency.
But I still had one question.
