Part two of the final goodbye

THIS ISNT FOR THE PROMPT (STARTS RIGHT WHERE PART ONE ENDS)

The ambulance shows up a couple minutes later. The nurses start yelling at people to back up and give them room. The people start moving away and continuing on their walks, whispering amongst themselves. 

“Please follow me, sir.” Says a nurse with a hand to my shoulder. She leads me to the back of the ambulance where two guys are waiting by a stretcher. I place gently onto the stretcher. I look at her face and am concerned at how peaceful she looks. They load her into the ambulance. I really hope she’ll be alright. I don’t know her at all, but just by observing her I feel like I know her better. 

“Sir, are you coming?” The nurse says, holding the ambulance door open. 

“Y-Y-Yes, of course.” I say, shocked. I climb into the back of the ambulance and kneel next to the girl. I really wish I knew her name. The ambulance takes us across town to the hospital. Once there, nurses rush out and help roll the stretcher into the hospital, yelling for people to move as they make their way to a room. I rush after them, holding onto the painter’s hand. When in the room, they lift her onto the bed and start hooking her up to all sorts of machines. 

“Sir, can you please wait outside.” One of the doctors tells me while taking her pulse. He whispers something to the nurse next to him, who immediately runs out of the room, clipboard in hand. I look at the painter one more time before leaving the room. I walk out to the waiting room, where a bunch of parents and kids are waiting. Fathers are asleep in chairs. Mothers are trying to keep kids quiet and controlled. I sink down in a chair and run a hand over my face. Today has already been a long day. I get up and start pacing, my mind going over the incident again and again. She seemed so lifeless in my arms. As if she lost all the weight in her body. I hear the door to the rooms open and close and I stand still as a nurse comes in my direction.

“How is she?” I ask, tentatively. 

“Stable, for now. You may come see her if you want.” I nod and follow her back to the room. I sink into a chair that is positioned by the side of the bed. I reach my hand out towards her hands that are resting on her stomach, but I hesitate. I debate with myself for a few seconds before placing my hand gently on hers. I lift it up and turn it over in my hand. I run my fingers along her wrist, startled at the softness of her skin. I figured as a painter, her hands would be more rough. I gently run my fingers along her palm and down to wear her fingers lay, slightly curled in. I set her hand back on her stomach and lean back in the chair, suddenly overcome with emotion. I run my hands through my longer, medium red color hair. I sigh and lean forward again. 

“I promise to not let anything happen to you. I promise that you’ll live. And I promise to get to be very close to you once this is all over. “ I whisper gently into her ear again. Yes. I promise to get to know her. I want to know her better and be in her life. I reach up and pull my hair into a small man bun on top of my head, pulling a rubber band from my wrist. I sit back and look at the painter. That’s all I do. Just sit and watch. That's all I’ll be doing until she wakes up. I’m not going anywhere. 

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Five days later 

My brain is foggy and I don’t know where I am. My eyes are being stubborn and refusing to open. I can tell my whole body is sore. I breathe in a deep breath and sigh with relief at how good that felt. I hear movement to my right, just before I feel the warmth of a masculine hand cover mine. He squeezes it gently and then the hand is gone. I wonder who the hand belongs to. My family would never come visit me at the hospital. They never loved me, always wanted a boy. And they weren’t afraid to tell me every time I messed up either. ‘This wouldn’t be a problem if you were a boy’ or ‘if only you were a boy, you wouldn’t mess up all the time’. I move my fingers one at a time, trying to get feeling back into them. 

I peel open one eye and then the other. I snap them shut again at the brightness of the room. I try again and open them slower this time. I look at the ceiling and around me. I’m hooked up to what seems like three different machines. Apparently I’m in the hospital. I don’t know why I’m here, or how for that matter, but I’m here. I slowly roll my head over to the right. And my eyes widen. He’s tall and muscular. He’s tan from the sun. He’s sitting in a tiny wooden chair, reading a book. His posture is perfect, he’s smiling at what he’s reading. His brownish-red hair is pulled into a man bun. He has a mustache over his lip the same color as his hair. His eyes are what startle me. The most beautiful dark green color I’ve ever seen. They sparkle as he lets out a chuckle as he reads. He has dimples and I can tell he likes to laugh. He has a straight, sharp jawline. He is wearing a light grey shirt and jeans. He has a slight beard growing. I look back into his eyes to see him staring at me. 

“I’ll go get the doctor.” He says in a kind, soft voice and stands up, sets his book down, and leaves the room. A short woman in purple scrubs comes into the room and starts doing things with the machines I’m hooked up to. I stare out the door, hoping that guy will come back in. He fascinates me. 

     “He’s waiting outside. I nearly had to force him not to come barging back in.” She chuckles. 

     “W-W” I try again. “Who is he?” 

     “He saved your life, Honey. The ambulance showed up and he was cradling you like a baby. He hasn’t left your side since you got here, well not unless forced anyway. Try and keep him around, he’s cute. “ she says as she leans out the door. The guy comes in a couple seconds later, his eyes full of concern. 

     “So…?” He looks at the nurse. 

     “Well the good thing is that she’s awake and talking. She is going to be pretty sore and she’s got a concussion. It’s very mild, so there’s really nothing to worry about. Her ankle is broken in two places and will need a cast.” She looks at her clipboard. “If all goes well, you’ll be out of here tomorrow afternoon.”

I look at his face and see a look of complete relief. As if he really cared to know that I was going to be okay. But how can that be? He doesn’t even know me! Does he? 

     “I fell, right?” I ask him as soon as the nurse leaves. 

     “Yeah, you took a nasty fall. Foot struck a pothole. I wish I had reacted quicker. Might’ve saved a trip to the hospital.” He gives me a lopsided grin. I feel my cheeks heat up. I've barely even known this guy for two minutes, and he’s already making me blush. I slide to the side of the bed and sit on the edge. 

     “Are you sure you should be doing that?” 

     “Yeah, I’m totally fine, you heard her, I’m basically healed.” I brush it off without a second thought. He looks at me for a moment and nods his head, as if to reassure himself. 

     “What’s your name?” I tilt my head to the side as I ask him. I’d like to know the name of my rescuer. 

     “Xavier. Xavier Morton.” I watch him wince as he says it. I smile. 

     “What’s so bad about your name?” 

     “Nothing. Not really. I kinda like it. But…not very many people agree.” He looks down at his feet as he says this, embarrassed. I start to reach forward but hesitate. He sees my hesitation and grabs my hand in his. 

     “Well, I love your name and whoever says otherwise is a jerk.” I smile as he rubs his thumb over my hand. Without any warning, my chest starts pounding with piercing pain. I gasp and fall forward, clutching my chest. I can barely see Xavier spring up to catch me. He lowers me to the ground, cradling me in his arms. I hear him shout for a nurse and the pain keeps getting worse. My hands are shaking and I start to shiver. I’m barely aware of when multiple nurses rush in. I don’t feel myself being lifted to the bed or being hooked up to more machines. I can barely breathe at this point because it hurts too much.