In all my time as a Los Angeles paramedic, I'd never taken a loss personally. Not until America's most beloved rockstar died in my hands. Plagued with guilt, I stupidly watched over his wife from afar, only for some messed up form of karma to throw me into her life without me ever being able to turn back, because Hannah Moore was far too good for the likes of Hollywood, and it turned out she needed saving, too. Allowing us to...