I take a deep breath and the street comes into view, willing my heart to stop pounding, and my mind to manifest that it’s not him. It can’t be him. I just got him, I can’t lose him now.
As soon as the bus is in park, I’m grabbing my bag and running toward the backyard, not caring about my safety. I have to get to him.
I fling open the gate, and what greets me will always and forever be engrained into my memory.
Multiple people are lying on the grass, some dead, some being tended to by one of the many officers on scene. A few are being handcuffed and led toward the gate, but I can only focus on finding him.
When I do, the breath is knocked out of my lungs. Thomas is lying on the grass with Officer Young holding firmly to his right leg. Blood is seeping through the white gauze. I run toward them, dropping myself onto the ground and grabbing more gauze as fast as my fingers can move.
“Is this the only wound?” I ask Officer Young as I take over, my gloved hands pressing down on his leg.
“Yes. No exit wound that we can tell. He’s lost a lot of blood.”
“Is he breathing?” I ask. I can’t look at his face. If I look at his face, I’ll break.
“Yes, breathing has been steady. ”
I nod, focusing on his leg. Miles drops down beside me, hooking him up to the monitors and checking his pulse. “Hannah,” he mutters my name, trying not to bring much attention to me.
“I’m fine,” I say through gritted teeth, even as a tear slides down my cheek.
“You’renotfine.”
“If you try and take me away from him right now, I won’t be fine. Right now? I’m fine. We need to keep him alive. I need him, Miles.” My tone is sharp, and I’ve never spoken to Miles like this before, but I don’t care. The man that I love has been shot and is lying unconscious on theground in front of me as I tend to his bullet wound. That’s more important than anything else.
Only once Thomas is hooked up to the monitor and I see the physical evidence of his heart beating do I take a full breath. Miles starts an IV and pushes some medication since I’m still holding pressure. I let go for a moment so we can get him onto the stretcher. We make our way to the rig, and Miles glances at me as I climb in with him, keeping pressure on the wound. The bleeding has slowed, but only a little.
“Are you sure you can handle this?” he asks.
For what seems like the hundredth time, I repeat, “I’m fine. Let’s go.”
Miles sighs, slamming the doors shut behind me and a moment later, the rig starts moving.
Using my free hand, I reach up to grab some shears to cut the leg of his pants off, knowing the hospital will need the access. With the bottom of his pants gone, I can get a better look at it.
The wound has mercifully slowed bleeding, but I keep pressure on it. Only now that it has slowed do I allow myself to look at his face. Glancing up his body, I notice the boxers that he’s wearing. Iron Man is plastered on the front, and my heart drops. Why is he wearing these today? I thought he only wore his superhero boxers on days he is manifesting something good, or needs luck? I take a deep breath, knowing that he does need luck today. Hehasto survive this.
I take in his beautiful face as I continue to look over his body, checking for any other injuries we may have missed. He’s so pale that he looks dead, but the sight of his chest rising and falling with each breath helps me acknowledge the fact that he’s still with me.
Tears haven’t stopped falling from my eyes since the moment I saw him, but now, they’re in the way. I angrily swat them away, irritated that they’re impinging on my view of him. “You can’t die,” I murmur, putting pressure on the wound again with both hands. “I can’t live without you, Thomas Cunningham. You hear me?”
I know he’s unconscious, but it doesn’t stop the words from tumbling from my lips.
“You came into my life when I least expected it and made it so easy to fall in love with you. You made my life better than I could have ever imagined, and now I need you. I need you in ways I never thought. I was doing fine on my own, but then you made me realize how good life could be.” I swallow down a sob. “I love you, and I need you to be okay, Thomas. I love you so much, okay?”
A groan pulls me out of my mumbled proclamation.
“Hey, freckles,” Thomas says, his voice quiet and hoarse. His hand reaches up and presses gently on my arm. “I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not,” I respond, staring into those familiar blue eyes. “You were shot, Thomas. You’ve lost so much blood.”
He nods, groaning again. “Yeah, I’m not feeling too good.”
I bite back the sarcastic comment on my tongue. “We’re almost to the hospital and they’ll get you taken care of there. There’s no exit wound, so you’ll probably need surgery.”
Thomas doesn’t acknowledge his possible need for surgery, instead saying my name. “Hannah.” His voice is slurring, and his eyes are hazy, drooping closed. He’s falling unconscious again. “Did you say that you loved me?”
His eyes fall shut as the words leave his lips. I’d panic, but I know that the combination of blood loss and medicationhe received is why he can’t stay awake. I take a deep breath. I didn’t want to tell him I love him this way. I wanted it to be a sweet moment between the two of us, and now, it’s ruined.
