"I'm not crying, it's the rain," I lied, putting on a tougher act than I felt. "You just lay there and look pretty while I do all the work," I teased, gently extracting my hand from his so I could swipe the moisture from my face.

"You do that, and see if you can whip me up some grub and a dryer bed too," he teased with his eyes closed again.

"Sure thing, princess," I teased, standing up.

I left the brush that hid Mason from view and started scouting around for sticks that matched his description. Keeping his hideout in my line of vision, I continued to look along the base of the mountain. After just a few minutes, I hit pay dirt on two of his requests. Smiling to myself in satisfaction, I was happy to have a goal in mind.

I could do this.

With a solid plan now set in my mind, I hurried back to Mason, ready to offer him some relief. He was asleep when I arrived back at his side. I set the sticks to the side and studied his leg while he slept. I turned off the part of my mind that wanted to reject what I was seeing and instead studied it much like I would a piece of art that I was analyzing. The bone sticking out of the skin was my biggest concern. I knew enough about the human body to know that an open wound was not a good thing. I was puzzled it wasn't bleeding profusely, but suspected it must not have hit any kind of artery when it broke through the skin. Looking at it closely, I saw that dirt and debris had found its way into the wound making it clear that it would have to be cleaned thoroughly if I was going to save him from infection. The fact that the denim on that leg was ripped to shreds would make my job easier when it came to cleaning the leg effectively. After several minutes of studying the injury, I sat back. I wasn't looking forward to what I was going to have to do, but having a plan at least made it easier to accept.

Taking my eyes from his injury, I studied his features while he slept. Now that we weren't at each other's throats, I could appreciate how handsome he really was. Even with multiple scratches, he still had the rugged good looks they had to Photoshop on most male models. He screamed outdoors and maleness. Even laid up, he gave off the aura of protectiveness. Without thinking, I reached my hand up to brush a smudge of dirt off his forehead.

"Taking advantage of me, beach bunny?" he mocked lightly with his eyes still closed.

"Yep, you found me out. I've just been waiting for the right moment to make my move," I quipped, removing my hand from his forehead. He reached up and grasped it before I could do a full retreat.

"I suspected it all along. I knew you thought I was hot," he teased, opening his eyes.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey."

He chuckled softly before grimacing in pain again. "You ready for this?" he asked.

I wanted to tell the truth and say "hell no," but I nodded my head instead.

"It'll be a cakewalk," I said with false bravado.

"That's my girl," he said, looking at me proudly.

His trust in me was almost my undoing as I fought a new wave of panic. Who was I fooling? I wasn't a nurse. Hell, I hated to even watch doctor-related TV shows since they always made me squeamish. I’d take a horror movie any day because at least I knew all the blood and gore was fake.

Fighting back my panic, I lined up the supplies I would need. "I have to clean the wound first," I said, not looking at him as I handed the water bottle to him with shaky hands so he could unscrew the cap for me.

"Can you do this with your broken finger?" he asked, concerned.

"I plan on using my good hand as much as possible," I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking as I prepared to pour the water over his leg.

"Kimberly," he said.

"Yeah?" I asked, finally looking at him.

"You got this," he said with the confidence I was lacking.

"I got this," I repeated, and then silently chanted it to myself over and over again as I kneeled in front of his leg. I turned the bottle slowly so only a little would pour out at a time. The clear liquid ran over his injury, washing away the majority of the blood and gore.

Mason let out a string of muffled curses that I willed myself to tune out as I continued to clean as much of the debris as I could from the oozing wound. When the bottle was empty, I leaned in close and saw the water had done a sufficient job. I tore one of the alcohol wipe packages open with my teeth and gently swabbed the ragged skin around the injury with it. Mason sucked in a gasping breath as I finished wiping down the injury. Without glancing at him, I reached down to tear away the denim that was holding on by only a few strands. Though I tried to limit jarring the leg as much as I could, I heard Mason release another string of curse words.

"Sorry," I mumbled, feeling wretched at the pain I was causing him.

"It's all good," he repeated in a voice that was lacking the same confidence from a few minutes ago.

I let out a small laugh. "How badly do you want to hit me?" I joked, finally looking at his ghost white face.

"Hit you? I want to kiss you," he said, humorlessly.

"Ha, yeah right."

"I'm not kidding. You don't think I know how tough this is for you. Hell, I'd have a hard time with it. You're my freaking hero right about now," he said through pale lips.

"We'll see how you feel after this next part," I teased, trying to keep the mood light, his words did touch me though.

"You got this," he repeated, closing his eyes as he clutched the raincoat that was bunched up around him.

Returning my focus to the task at hand, I rolled the bowling ball-size rock I had found and placed it as close to his left heel as I could get. The odd angle of his leg made it impossible to wrap the injury without the help of something to lift it off the ground for me. Grabbing his heel gently in my hands, I tried lifting his leg as carefully as possible.

"STOP," Mason yelled in a strangled voice.

I paused and waited for him to recover. "Ready?" I asked after several seconds had passed.

"No, wait, yes," he said, gritting his teeth.

Without giving him a chance to change his mind, I pivoted the leg over to rest on the rock.

Mason screamed again and then went silent. I grimaced when I saw he had passed out, but quickly realized it was probably for the best.

Using his unconscious state to my advantage, I placed the sticks on either side of his injured leg, evening the ends up with his heel. Once the sticks were in place, I unrolled the bandage and began the job of wrapping his leg. My finger made the job awkward, but I worked to keep the wrapping tight so his leg would have maximum stabilization. I left the area of the leg exposed where the bone stuck out. Wrapping it would do him more harm than good. By the time I finished, I had worked up quite a sweat. I tore off a piece of his raincoat that was hanging by a thread and draped it over his leg so it would keep the wrapping dry. Standing up stiffly, I looked down at his unconscious body for a second. That was the best I could do for him, I thought. As for myself, I still didn’t feel all that great. I walked several feet into the woods and vomited up the water I had consumed earlier.

Chapter 10

Mason was still unconscious when I made my way back to his side. I fought the temptation to curl up next to him and join him in slumber, but it was time to start phase two of my plan. Getting us under some kind of shelter was a must. During my hunt for sticks earlier, I spotted what looked like a small cave where a large section of rock was protruding from the side of the mountain. It would be a perfect location. The problem would be getting Mason there.