Page 59 of Breaking Matt
"No, I'm going with them," I said and walked away from him and to the ambulance.
He grabbed my wrist. "I can't protect you in the ambulance," he tried to reason with me.
Wild horses couldn't have kept me from getting into the ambulance to be with Matthew. There was no way Mark was going to stop me. I turned to look at him.
"I'm going into the ambulance with him," I told him in a firm tone that told him it wasn't up for discussion. "You can follow behind."
Maybe there was something in my eyes that told him I wasn't going to back down, because he shrugged and nodded his head. I held Matthew's hand all the way to the hospital. He was unconscious. The paramedics told me that he'd lost a lot of blood and would need surgery. Staring down at his peaceful face, I prayed he would make it through. I promised I would do the right thing if he survived.
Once we got to the hospital Mark was by my side. I watched with fear and anxiety as they wheeled Matthew away for surgery and I stood outside the door. I felt so hopeless. There was nothing I could do. His life was in the hands of the medical staff. I paced up and down.
Each time someone came through the doors my heart would stop and I would hold my breath, hoping they had news on Matthew. Mark made a call as we waited in the waiting room. He'd called my father to tell him what had happened.
"How are you?" my father asked, sounding concerned when Mark handed me the phone.
"I'm fine," I assured him. Matthew was the one in surgery. He'd put his life on the line to save mine. If he hadn't put his body in the way of the bullet, it would have hit me. He'd saved my life.
"How is Matthew?" my dad asked. I took a deep breath and released it.
"I don't know."
I handed the phone back to Mark unable to concentrate on the phone call as I turned my attention back to watching the doors. Each minute that passed with no news made me worry more. Mark continued to talk to my father for a few minutes more. From the bits and pieces I heard, Mark was going to organize more bodyguards to watch over me.
Once he was off the phone he came to stand beside me as I watched the doors with my arms crossed. He seemed to sense I didn't want to talk because he kept silent. He leaned against the wall, watching me pace up and down the hallway. He didn't have to say it—I could see he was worried about Matthew as well. He just seemed to be dealing with it better than I was.
"This wasn't your fault," he said unexpectedly. I stopped to look at him. How had he managed to read what was going on in my mind?
I shrugged. It was. I should have stayed at home today instead of going to class. But my stubbornness and inability to back down had led to this.
"It's his job to keep you alive," he reminded me.
I didn't say anything, I just kept staring at him. Matthew had been employed to keep me safe but our relationship went beyond that. I loved him and I was pretty sure he cared for me. I'd messed up so bad up to this point that I swore I would do whatever I had to do to keep him safe. He would make it through this and then I would let him go. It would hurt, but I would do it, because it was the right thing for him. I would never be able to live with myself if he died to save me.
But first he had to make it through the surgery.
I turned away from Mark. My eyes fixed on the doors when they swung open. The surgeon, still dressed in scrubs, walked to me and I felt my world stop as I tried to read the outcome of the surgery from the look on his face.
The time it took for the surgeon to walk up to me felt like forever. My eyes scrutinized his features for any indication on the result of the surgery, but I couldn't decipher anything. I clasped my hands together and tried to keep myself from going into a full-blown panic.
"He's stable."
I felt relief flood through me. Mark relaxed beside me.
Mark asked the surgeon some questions, but for me all that mattered was that he was alive and stable. Nothing else mattered.
After the surgeon left, Mark pulled out his phone and made some calls. From what I could hear they were to Matthew's family, telling them what had happened. When he finished the call he shoved the phone back into his jeans.
"Why didn't you call them before the surgery?" I asked.
"He wouldn't have wanted them to worry," he explained.
I'd worried enough for everyone. The adrenaline that had been carrying me began to wane, and I felt tired. I looked down to my hands. I'd managed to wash the blood from my skin but the memories of what had happened would stay far longer.
"This is all part of the job," Mark began to explain to me. I looked at him.
"It was my fault," I said quickly. "I didn't want to let fear make me too scared to live my life. I should have stayed at home and none of this would have happened." The burden of responsibility weighed heavily on me and no amount of words was going to change what had happened. I was the reason Matt had been fighting for his life. Just the thought of what had nearly happened took the breath from my lungs.
"The thing is, if it hadn't been today, it could have been tomorrow," he said softly, watching me. I swallowed hard. "And you never know. On a different day, things might have worked out differently."
