And then I see him.
Anton is on the ground fifteen feet away.
I stumble toward him.
He's breathing. I can see it. I tell myself I can see it.
"Anton." I'm on my knees beside him. "Anton, can you hear me?"
He makes a sound. Not words. A groan.
I pull my phone from the pocket of my leggings and call 911. I realize I only have one earbud in. Another man runs up while I’m trying to tell the dispatcher where we are. He’s the first one to approach. Everyone else scattered.
“Are you okay?” the man asks.
I nod. “I think so.”
He’s talking to me at the same time the dispatcher is giving me instructions about what not to do with Anton.
“Help him!” I shout at the only person that seems to give a shit.
I end the phone call with the dispatcher. I need to focus on Anton.
“Are you hurt?” The man is staring at me and ignoring Anton. Blue eyes. Blonde hair. He looks vaguely familiar. Maybe I’ve seen him on campus…
Not him.My mind slides somewhere else entirely. Green. Not eyes—ink. A tattoo. Coiled and watching. And cologne, cedar, expensive. I blink the flash of memory away.
“I’m fine. Help him.”
He pulls out a phone and turns his back to me.
“Anton.” I take his hand and brush my thumb over the back.
He’s alive, but he’s out.
The stranger turns back and looks at me. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I get the impression he’s talking about me.
In the distance, I can hear sirens coming.
I keep holding Anton's hand.
I keep talking.
I look up again, and the man is gone.
“Thanks for the help,” I mutter.
I ride in the back of the ambulance with Anton. It’s only after I’m pushed to wait in the waiting room that I realize I’m alone. I glance around feeling very exposed. And alone. I am rarely alone in public. I can’t explain what I feel.
I want to be the fierce, independent woman I pretend to be, but I’m also not an idiot.
I call Gregor, my other guard that fills in when Anton needs a day off. I barely get out the words before I hear shouting. I can tell he’s running and try to tell him things are not that serious.
But he isn’t listening to me.
Gregor arrives within twenty minutes, flanked by two more guards. His face is pale, his jaw set in that way that tells me he’s furious and terrified in equal measure. Anton is like an uncle, but Gregor is like a brother. Or a close cousin. He’s been with me for about four years. Anton rarely relinquishes his head guard duties, but when he does, it’s usually only to Gregor.
Makes a girl feel loved.