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What the hell am I thinking? Lilly just got her back almost scorched off. Her hair is the least of our problems. I mentally slap myself out of my stupor.
Get your fucking brain to work, dickhead.
The wait, while two guys secure the straps around her without touching the burned areas, makes me want to pull my hair out. It can't be more than a few minutes, but it sure as fuck seems like hours.
I stand with the stretcher, not letting go of her hand. Exiting the locker room, we pass Wes and Denielle. With Wes's arm draped around her shoulder, Den is still strangling her cell phone, fresh tears creating black trails down her cheeks.
They fall into step behind us with the teachers pulling up the rear.
I ignore the murmurs that get louder the closer we get to the doors leading to the parking lot. We're instantly surrounded by half of WH's student population. Since it's still the middle of fourth period, some fucktard must've wanted his or her five seconds of fame and sent a blast out. I better not find any pictures of Lilly's injured body on social media.
Gasps run through the crowd as we emerge, the murmurs and questions getting louder, but my focus is on Lilly's closed eyes as she's wheeled along the side of the building.
The paramedics are about to lift the stretcher into the ambulance's back, and I reluctantly let go of her. Peering to the side, my gaze lands on my ex-girlfriend. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and instead of shock or compassion, she radiates pure gloating. My heartbeat stutters.
She did this!
Wes and Den follow my line of sight. The EMTs are busy getting Lilly settled, and a red haze settles over my vision. At their own volition, my feet start moving slowly toward the person responsible. Wes grabs Denielle around the waist as she must’ve come to the same verdict. No one stops me, though. The sea of students parts as I zero in on my target. A growl builds in my throat, and my hands curl into fists. All bets are off.
I’m going to jail for this.
I’m just a couple of feet away from Kat when two arms wrap themselves around my upper body.
I fight against the hold of whomever is stupid enough to interfere. "LET ME GO! I'm going to kill this fucking bitch! It was her. SHE DID THIS!" I'm going ballistic in front of everyone.
Kat's expression turns from smug to wary to panic, and her eyes flick left to right.
Oh yeah, you better run, you cunt.
"Not here, Rhys!" The low tone of the last person I ever expected snaps me out of the rage, and I go limp.
"George?" My voice is shaking.
"Let's go. Miss Lilly needs you." He lifts me and turns me the other way like I'm my ten-year-old sister, not six-one and two hundred pounds. His grip loosens slightly, but he doesn't let go until he deposits me into the back of the ambulance.
Once I sit next to the paramedic, George takes charge. "He is her boyfriend; he's going with you." The man's eyes turn to saucers as he takes in my BFF and jerks his head up and down.
"Rhys?"
"Yes?" I force myself to look away from Lilly’s body in front of me.
"You will not let her out of your sight until I get to the hospital."
I nod, too stunned to comprehend what just happened.
George turns and looks at Wes and Den, who are off to the side of the ambulance. "You two are coming with me." Both are visibly pale but trail after the man without a word.
The driveto the hospital is a blur. The raging river of adrenaline that kept me going since Denielle’s call has turned into a dried-up stream. The EMT removes the cloth they placed over Lilly during the transfer from the locker room to the ambulance. He asks her questions about her pain level while making sure nothing touches the burns, to which she replies with a grimace.
Kat's satisfied bitch face flashes in front of my eyes, and my fists keep clenching of their own volition. She is responsible for this. If George hadn't shown up, I'm not sure what I would've done. I remain mute despite the million questions I have. I need to get my temper under control before we reach the hospital.
The paramedic glances over several times, opening and closing his mouth. I cock an eyebrow at him.
Spit it out.
"Who was the guy with the scar?"
The corner of my mouth pulls up to a one-sided, most likely lunatic smirk. "Someone you never want to see again."
