Maybe his superhero boxers are bad luck now.
The rig slows to a stop in front of the hospital and Miles climbs out, opening the back doors. We pull the stretcher out and I keep pressure on his leg. The nurses meet us in the ambulance bay as I tell them about the GSW, and his vitals. I let them know that he regained consciousness briefly before passing out again about five minutes ago.
I switch hands with one of the nurses, watching as they wheel the man I love away from me. I can’t follow them, I can only watch in disdain. My shirt, hands and arms are covered in Thomas’s blood, so I head over to the sink, tossing away my dirty gloves and washing up. My hands begin to shake as the cold water turns red as it runs down my fingertips.
Miles comes up behind me, patting my shoulder. “You did good. I’m sure he will be in surgery for a bit, but why don’t you call his family.”
“Oh god,” I murmur, my stomach turning. The thought of telling his mom that her son was shot is enough to make me sick. But I have to. Miles leads me to the front desk where I let them know that I’ll be contacting his family.
Miles calls our boss, letting him know what happened, and that I won’t be able to work the rest of my shift.
I sit down in one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, pulling my phone from my pocket. With a deep breath, I open up my contacts, and find his mom’s number. Miles rubs my shoulders again. “I’m going to make sure someone brings Arson here,” he says.
“Oh my god, Arson,” I cry, looking around the room as ifhe will suddenly appear. “Was he there? Did he get hurt, too?” My voice cracks in fear.
“I’m sure he’s fine. I didn’t see him at the scene, so he was probably still in the back of Thomas’s car. I’ll take care of him, and bring him here if I can.”
“Thank you,” I murmur. Miles leaves me alone to call Nikki.
I press the button to call her and bring the phone up to my ear, ignoring the pounding in my chest. Thank god we exchanged phone numbers at the most recent Sunday brunch.
Nikki thankfully answers right away. “Hi, Hannah, how are you?”
I clear my throat of the lump that’s forming. “Hi, Nikki.” My voice cracks, and tears slip down my cheeks again.
“What happened?” she immediately asks, her earlier pleasant tone replaced with fear.
“Thomas got shot,” I say. “He went to a scene and they were ambushed and he was shot in his thigh. I think they’re going to bring him back to surgery, but you need to come.”
“Oh my god,” she cries. I can hear Thomas’s dad in the background, questioning her and comforting her all at once.
He takes the phone from her. “Hello?” he asks, his voice wary.
“It’s Hannah.” I don’t give him time to reply before I continue. “Thomas was shot in the leg. They’re taking him back to surgery soon.”
“Fuck,” he curses, “We’ll be there as soon as possible. Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I reply, my voice shaking. Am I okay? Physically, yes. Mentally… yeah, probably not.
We hang up, and without thought, I’m calling my sister.
“Hey Banana, I thought you were working?” she answers.
“Thomas was shot,” I blurt, the sobs breaking free.
“What?” she screeches, already yelling at Tiff in the background to get the keys. “Hannah, what happened? Are you okay?”
“I’m not hurt,” I reply. “He was on scene and got shot in the thigh. He needs surgery, and he lost a lot of blood.”
“Breathe, Hannah,” Julia says, and I take a long inhale. “He wasn’t shot in the chest or anything?”
“No,” I reply. “But he lost so much blood, Julia.”
“They will give him a transfusion while they try and save his leg.”
“I told him I loved him,” I say with a heavy exhale.
“You did? When?”
