Page 24 of Bodyguard Crush
15
ABBY
Kaden is passed out in my arms. His warm, sticky blood is soaking into my nightgown. I can’t do anything but cry, hold my hands over his wound to apply pressure, and pray that someone helps us. Almost like God heard my desperation, one of the men on the security team rounds the house.
“Are you okay?” he yells.
“Call 911!”
He runs over and sees Kaden in my arms. “Oh, fuck.” I hear him breathe out before rushing to pull his cell from his pocket. Everything else is a blur. I don’t know how long he’s on the phone. I don’t know how long it takes the ambulance to get here. I don’t remember a moment of the ride to the hospital. All I know is that one minute I’m praying to God that he makes it as he bleeds out in my arms, and the next, I’m at the hospital, pacing up and down the hallway in a bloody nightgown and no shoes while he’s in surgery. Somehow, I have a thick gray blanket wrapped around my shoulders. My feet are so cold they’re numb.
“Ms. Phillips?” someone says, and I turn around, hoping and praying for good news.
“How is he? Is he okay?” I ask, grabbing the nurse who approached me.
“He’s still in surgery, and the last I heard, he was stable.”
More tears leak from my eyes and roll down my cheeks as I nod, understanding her words are an attempt to keep me calm.
“The press are here. Come with me, and we’ll get you cleaned up.”
I cling to her for dear life as she leads me down the hallway and into a hospital room. She walks into the connected bathroom and starts the shower for me. She’s back, pulling the blanket away and pushing me into the bathroom. “The nurses and I have gathered some clothes and shoes for you for when you get out. I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be waiting in the next room,” she says, setting down a pile of clothes on the bench by the door. She steps out and closes the door behind her.
I look from the door to the shower that’s running to the mirror. I don’t even recognize myself. My long dark hair that’s usually beautiful and bouncy is now sopping wet with blood. I have blood on my face. My eyes are bloodshot and puffy from crying, and my white nightgown is stained red with dried blood. I look at my hands, and they’re stained as well, with dried blood under my fingernails. A sob escapes my lips as I go into a panic. So much blood. How can he be okay? How can he survive? I rip my nightgown over my head, wadding it up and throwing it into the trash. I step into the shower and hold my hands under the water. The clear water turns red, and I watch as it drips from my hands and runs down the drain.
I close my eyes and move under the water, letting it wash over my head and face. Behind my lids, all I can see is him. I see the moment he walked into my life and how annoyed I was that I needed a babysitter. I see him as I’m at the pool, and he drives around to the gardening shed. His intense green eyes were on me, and his jaw was cocked. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he watched me with yearning filling his eyes. I see the moment we finally came together in my office, on the floor in front of the fireplace. I see our trip to Hawaii, connecting in every way possible—mind, body, and soul. And then I see our final kiss before he ran out of the bedroom and into the arms of danger to protect me.
I don’t know how long it takes me in the shower, but it feels like forever before I’m able to get all the blood out of my hair and out from under my nails. I turn off the water, towel dry, and then pick up the bag of clothing the kind nurses thought to gather up for me. Inside is a tank top along with a set of scrubs. I pull on the tank top since I have no bra and then put on the blue scrub top. The scrub bottoms are black, leading me to believe that nobody had a full set and everyone had to donate what they had on them. There’s a pair of socks and a pair of worn tennis shoes. I put on everything they’ve given me and open the bathroom door.
The nurse is on the other side, waiting on the bed like she promised. She stands slowly. “You look much better. I’m sure you feel better too, getting out of that old wet nightgown. Come on. Have a seat, and I’ll brush out your hair and pull it off your neck for you.”
I don’t argue. It’s nice to be taken care of for once. I have a seat on the hospital bed, and she stands behind me. She gently brushes out my hair and then pulls it into a bun on the top of my head.
“There we go. All done.”
I feel my hair and stand to face her. “Thank you,” I whisper, the only tone I can muster.
She offers a friendly smile and a nod of her head. “Come on, I’ll take you back.”
She takes me back to the hallway I’ve been waiting in and gestures for me to sit down on the only bench available. Normally, they make people stay in the waiting room, but I wouldn’t listen to reason. Not to mention, I’m a celebrity who’s covered in blood and screaming like a lunatic. They had to get me out of the public eye.
“I’ll get you a clean blanket. “Do you want anything else? A cup of coffee? Hot tea?”
“Coffee would be nice.”
She nods and walks off, leaving me alone. I zone out as I stare at the floor in front of me. It’s bright white with tiny gray specks. It’s almost blinding from the LED lights hanging overhead. The nurse is back quickly. She wraps the warm blanket around my shoulders and then hands me the cup of coffee. I hold it in both hands and bring it to my mouth to take a sip. To my surprise, she sits beside me. I look at her with a questioning look.
“My shift is over. I thought I’d sit here with you and keep you company if that’s okay with you.”
I can’t argue, so I just nod, accepting her kindness.
We don’t talk. She doesn’t push me to, and I’m too exhausted to do so on my own. I hope she doesn’t think I’m rude. I don’t know how long we sit. It could be minutes, hours, days…time has no meaning. The next thing I know, a doctor is walking over to us.
“Ms. Phillips?”
“Yes?” I stand.
He comes to a stop in front of me. “I’m the doctor who performed Mr. Hill’s surgery. He lost a lot of blood, but we gave him a blood transfusion and was able to recover the bullet. He may need to do some physical therapy when he heals, but he’s stable and in recovery.”
