Hopeless For You (15 page)

I sat back on my heels. "Where's the first aid kit?" I reached toward the backpack.

He swallowed and I watched his Adam's apple bob up and down, twitching the eye of the falcon tattoo. "Big pocket...bottom front."

His instructions led me straight to the orange and white kit. I opened it and dug through the dressings, gloves, and masks. There were some triangular bandages, which would prove useful. Beneath them, I found a non-prescription bottle of Ibuprofen, filled with 400 milligram tablets. The legal, over-the-counter limit was 200 milligrams in the States. I guess Canadians liked their painkillers strong.

I tipped one into my hand and wondered if that would be enough. To heck with it—I handed Kade two painkillers, along with the canteen.

"Does it hurt when you breathe?" I said after he swallowed the pills.

"Everywhere," he responded sharply.

"Specifically in your chest?"

His brows knit together uncertainly, then he took a slow, controlled breath. "It hurts a little here." He touched his side. "The ribs don't feel broken. Probably bruised."

I tilted my head doubtfully, scraping a wet strand of hair from my eyes. "You've had broken ribs before, then?"

There was a moment of hesitation before he spoke. "I might've done some stupid shit a time or two." Faint amusement broke through the mask of pain. "Though I'm sure I didn't do anything you wouldn't have done."

I ran my hands over his chest and prodded his ribs, confirming his self-
assessment. I did my best to ignore those eight-pack abs.

Come on, Ash, be professional!

I returned my attention to the purple, swollen mass that was his knee.

"So what's the verdict?" he said.

"Your leg's badly twisted. The knee's probably dislocated and your ankle isn't in great shape, either. You have a small bump on your head but I don't think it's a concussion. And you have bruised ribs, like you said."

"Yeah, well, the knee's all that concerns me. Hurts like a bitch. I can feel it throbbing just lying here."

"You have what's called a patella dislocation, I think. It's where the kneecap has slipped out of alignment to the side of the leg."

"Sounds pretty gross."

I ignored the comment but he was exactly right. You never told patients things like that, though. "I could try to relocate the kneecap but since I'm not a doctor and I've never done anything like that before, I'd probably make it worse. The good news is ninety percent of kneecap dislocations return to the groove on their own, but even if that happens, you still can't walk on it because of torn ligaments."

"So," Kade said. "Moral of the story—we're totally and unequivocally screwed. At least as far as getting back to the bridge goes."

"You'll be able to walk once I'm done with you, I hope. It'll hurt, though."

He grinned sarcastically. "What's a little pain, right?"

I turned toward the pack. "Pocketknife?"

"Second compartment on the right. You're going to operate on me now?"
He said it as if he were joking, but there was definitely an undertone of fear in his voice.

"Of course not Kade."
I retrieved the pocketknife and opened the tent flap to go out.

"Wait!" Kade said. "Where are you going?"

"I'll only be gone a few minutes. There's something I need to do."

I went out and searched the nearby pines until I found a suitable branch. I sat on it, bobbing up and down and sawing with the knife until the branch broke away and then I cut off the extraneous limbs. Perfect. I now had a stick that reached from my heel to the middle of my thigh. I guess I could have used one of the tent poles for what I wanted but then we would've lost our only shelter.

"You came back," Kade said when I ducked inside.

I frowned. "You make it sound like you thought I wouldn't."

"Maybe that's what I hoped."

"Why on earth would you hope that?"

Kade closed his eyes. "Never mind."

"Those Ibuprofens kicking in yet?"

"Nope," Kade shifted slightly and gritted his teeth. "Leg still hurts like a bitch."

"Well it's going to hurt more in a second. I'm going to try and straighten your leg as much as possible and then immobilize it. I don't want the knee getting any worse. As I said, it might pop back into place by itself along the way, though I'm not sure if that would be good or bad, pain-wise."

"Probably bad, I think."

I agreed but didn't say anything. I gave him two more Ibuprofens and then
positioned the long wooden splint on the inside of his leg, opposite the dislocated kneecap. The end of the wood reached his heel. I secured some dressing to different spots of the splint to act as padding and then I loosely wrapped the triangular bandages around both the leg and the splint, religiously avoiding the knee area. The ties of each knot hung out to the side, waiting to be tightened.

"Okay. Now we're going to straighten the leg and secure the splint." I met his eyes, trying to project a confidence I hardly felt. "Ready?"

Kade's eyes held mine for a long moment, then he nodded. There was fear in his eyes but also trust. I suspected he was barely holding it together.

I was barely keeping it together myself.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly began to apply pressure just above the knee. His leg was only slightly bent so it wouldn't take much to straighten it, but I knew these moments would be pure agony for him. He didn't make a sound at first, except for a few wheezing, rapid breaths. But as I pushed further, he cracked.

"Fuck!" he roared. His fingers were clawing at the tent bottom.

Wanting to get this over with as fast as possible, I pressed his thigh down all the way. While he yelled, I tightened the bandages with my free hand.

Then it was done.

I released him.

The splint was in place.

For long moments, his head repeatedly turned from side to side and his hands squeezed and reopened. The waves of pain must have passed because eventually, he calmed down.

I sagged in relief and bowed my head. I wept a little, too quietly for Kade to hear.

I felt his hand rest on my hair and I stiffened. He must have heard my tears, after all. I quickly dabbed them before looking up.

Those sea-green eyes studied me with a strange mix of emotions. Pain. Lust. Fear.

His cheeks were wet with his own tears. His brow was furrowed furiously. His lips were sucked into his mouth—there was blood on the lower lip.

"Shit," I said. "I should've given you something to bite down on."

He let out a deep breath, launching a spray of spittle.

"Kade, are you okay? Kade?"

He nodded, the corner of his lips quirking up in a tired smile. "Bit my tongue slightly but otherwise, I'm feeling pretty good. The knee doesn't hurt as much anymore. Good job, whatever you did. Or maybe it's just the meds kicking in."

His halting laugh brought a tired smile from me and some of the tension eased from my shoulders. I knew we were still in deep trouble but having him awake and talking helped me cope.

A lot.

Though the rain had washed off most of the mud, I still felt like a mess. I slid off my muddy boots and my soaked socks and rested them against the tent fabric. "How's your head?"

"Fine. Headache's getting better. But I really just want to sleep."

Now that I wasn't exerting myself, I started to shiver a little bit. I saw goose bumps on Kade's skin and I wondered if I should worry that he wasn't shivering.

I unrolled the sleeping bag from the pack. It seemed a little moist to me but I laid it on top of him anyway.

"How's that feel?" I said.

He grinned stiffly. "Warmer. In a wet way."

"I'm not sure if that was meant to be a double entendre or not." When he didn't answer my little joke, I sat back. "You can take a nap if you want but we have to set out again soon."

I took off my rain jacket. Underneath, my shirt and sweater were wet, not with rainwater but sweat from my earlier exertions. The clothes literally clung to me and I wanted to change them.

I grabbed one of Kade's sweatshirts from the backpack. The shirt actually felt pretty dry to me. I was about to peel off my sweater when I caught Kade brazenly eying me.

"I think I'll stay awake and enjoy the show." His voice held a slight challenge.

I scowled at him, though I was secretly glad he was well enough to flirt.

He just shrugged. "Come on. It's not something I haven't seen before."

When I turned my back on him, I couldn't help but smile. I pulled the shirt and sweater over my head in one smooth motion, feeling a blush creep into my cheeks. I dearly wanted to change out of my wet bra as well but my stomach fluttered at the idea of being completely naked under his eyes. I touched the ring around my neck, reassuring myself it was still there, then quickly pulled on the sweatshirt.

I was going to wiggle out of my pants as well because they were still pretty dirty but decided against it. They'd dry well enough while I wore them.

"Well, I hope you enjoyed that." I turned around in my new sweatshirt.

"Not really. I saw a little piece of naked back for what, two seconds?"

I shrugged, sitting against the tent fabric beside him.

He had a strange glint in his eye. "I suppose you can't really compare what you've got to what I've got, though, eh?"

I felt a spark of outrage and turned my back on him. I wasn't even sure why that would hit me so hard. We were friends, nothing more, just like I wanted. And friends teased each other good-naturedly. I should have taken it as a sign that he wasn't concussed. I should've teased him right back.

For some reason, I couldn't. I guess it was because of everything that had happened. He'd been hurt enough.

So had I.

I jumped when his hand touched mine. I twisted out of his grasp, ready to yell at him for touching me.

Something in his face stopped me though, and instead I said, "What?" The word came out almost as a whisper
—I struggled to speak past the choking sensation in my throat.

"When I said you can't compare what you've got to what I've got, I meant, well, I'm just an ugly, tattooed freak while you're fucking gorgeous."

The words didn't register for a minute but when they did, I flushed. I couldn't keep eye contact. Gorgeous. He'd called me gorgeous. But it was the way he said it that got me. It was almost...reverent. "You're not a freak." No other response came to mind and to be honest I wasn't sure how to respond. Lamely, I tried to change the subject. "Wish it would stop raining."

"I don't." There was a
wistful note to his voice that made me glance at him again, only to feel my blush darken when I realized he was still watching me. A slight smile played on his lips and made my stomach flutter.

"We need to move on," I said, trying to distract myself with plans. "The closer we are to the bridge, the better chance we have of being found." I pointed at the splint. "You think you'll be able to walk on that leg or not?"

"With you to lean on, yes."

I wasn't sure if he was just flirting again but he seemed sincere.

"Just let me rest a little longer," Kade added.

I agreed and lay back against the tent fabric. I suddenly felt really groggy and I knew it must
have been even worse for Kade. I took a sip of water and splashed some on my face. I gave him the canteen and he took a long drink.

"You could leave me, you know," Kade said. He raised his voice when I started to protest. "It makes perfect sense. You hike the rest of the way, get help, and come back. Just follow the river. I'll be fine on my own for a day or two."

"Absolutely not," I said. "You wouldn't have enough water, your concussion could be worse than we think—there are a hundred different things that could go wrong. I'm not leaving you." My glare seemed to keep him from arguing. "We both walk or we both stay behind."

He gritted his teeth but nodded. "Fine."

I groped for something else to talk about to keep the both of us awake. Something innocent and light. "So. How'd you start working here?"

He stiffened slightly and I wondered if I'd asked something off-limits.

Kade took another sip of water before he spoke. "I was seventeen, needed a job. I saw an ad for a volunteer at the center and because there wasn't anything else, I called to see if they had a paid position open.
Any
paid position. I was pretty desperate."

He drank leisurely from the canteen. I waited, not wanting to pressure him.

He sighed. "I know what you're thinking. Why was I so desperate at only seventeen, right? Not even old enough to drink and already a bum. I was dating a girl my parents didn't like. Sarah. Five years older than me. She told me she was pregnant. I panicked. I was afraid of being a dad. I didn't want to mess up like my own dad had for me. So I just left everything. Her. My family. I packed up and moved to the far side of town. That's why I needed a job so badly. I met Momma Jeanne for the interview back when she was the only one in charge and she gave me a chance out here. I worked for the entire summer, trying to sort things out."