Desiring Dylan - Suzanne Jenkins Page 0,5
She was in the back with Kenny, holding his hand while they monitored him, keeping his airway open, IV going, running EKGs.
Once inside the facility, Landon wasn’t allowed in the room where they would work on Kenny. A neurosurgeon came in to see if it was worth taking him to the OR, but it really wasn’t. The bullet had blown through his brainstem and destroyed where his spinal cord entered his skull.
It was a matter of time before he would die. They had to wait until his body caught up with the wound. The nurses cleaned him up, waiting.
“His girlfriend is out in the waiting room,” the EMT who had stayed behind said to the nurse.
“I’ll get her. She should be here with him.”
They brought Landon in, alarmed at her appearance, covered with blood.
“Are you injured?” the nurse asked.
“It’s his blood.”
“Do you want to clean up, dear?”
“No, I’ll wait,” she cried. “If you think he doesn’t have long, I want to stay as long as I can.”
“I’ll bring you a wet washcloth, at least.”
Landon nodded, not caring. Nothing mattered. They brought her a chair, but she wanted to stand next to him. The curtain pulled aside, and Kenny’s mother and father came through, taking one look and breaking down. They got into a huddle, the blood on Landon’s clothes not a concern. His mother would ask for her blood-soaked sweater, too. Landon didn’t ask why; understanding that it might be something tangible that his mother could hold on to forever, his blood, his DNA.
Like they said, it didn’t take long. As the monitor beeps slowed down, it began to alarm.
They would attempt to resuscitate him if the family stated that was what they wanted, but they knew it was hopeless; he’d be paralyzed and in a vegetative state if he lived.
One minute, two minutes, slower and slower. The nurse shut the alarm off. Finally, the monitor was silent. He was gone. She was cried out already. The scene at the restaurant had drained her of any feeling or emotion. She saw him get his brains blown out. What could be worse?
Kenny’s parents wanted to stay with the body longer, but Landon had had enough. As she prepared to leave the room, hesitating because she wasn’t sure which direction the exit was, Dylan Cross entered.
The shock was visceral. Waves of cold chills spread over her body. He didn’t recognize her; black hair now white/blond, covered in blood that was slowly turning black, why would he? She recognized him right away. He spoke softly to the parents, she couldn’t hear what he said, and then when he was preparing to leave, he acknowledged her.
“You can’t stay here. Only family is allowed in the room,” he snapped. “They should have stopped you before you came in.”
A nurse came to her rescue, holding Landon as he admonished her.
“Dr. Cross! This is the patient’s girlfriend. She was with him when he was attacked.”
He looked her up and down with a sneer, seeing for the first time the obvious blood on her clothing, dried on her face and hair, and then it hit him like a medicine ball. A sickening flood of warmth flowed over him.
It was Landon. Over the past year, he’d followed their romance in the tabloids and on TV. Then another wave came over him, watching her pale, dirty face, frozen. The blood she was covered with belonged to the man he was unable to save. He reached out to her with arms that she’d avoid, moving back from him.
“Landon! I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say. Please forgive me.”
But it was too late, the final blow. She screamed, beyond utilizing the vestiges of self-control that had maintained her for the last hours.
“You? Why? Of all the doctors in this place, they send you?”
Before she gave in and fell to her knees, she hurriedly left the room, avoiding the crowded waiting room and reporters. Band members and the bodyguards who hadn’t done their job surrounded her and pushed past the paparazzi, getting her to their limo and pushing her in.
“Go to the hotel,” drummer Terry instructed.
“No! I want to go home. It’s not far from here, please!”
The driver made a U-turn and ended up going north on Kelly Drive. Her apartment was on a canal in Manayunk.
“Do you want me to go up with you?” Terry asked, concerned.
“No, please. I need to be alone right now.”
She got out, grabbed her bag, and fled for her door.
“Wait until she’s inside.”
The driver nodded,