“Clem?”says Hunter, half alarmed and half confused.
My knee and elbow hit hardest, and I gasp as pain spikes through them.I don’t dare move for long seconds, afraid I’ll just hurt myself worse.
Hunter’s on his knees next to me, his pack off, and he’s saying something but I’m not paying attention.I just focus on breathing, flexing my fingers, and slowly the pain fades.
“Shit,” I say.
Hunter reaches over and unbuckles my pack, letting it fall off my back.
“Did you hit your head?”he asks, and I realize it’s the second or third time he’s asked that.
“I don’t think so,” I say, blinking.
He takes my jaw in his hand and leans in, bringing his face inches from mine.
I hold my breath.My knee throbs.I wonder if Ididhit my head and I’m about to hallucinate some weird romantic scenario.
“Your pupils look okay,” he finally says, and I exhale.He lets my face go.
Right.
“What the hell happened?”he says.
I sit up slowly, bending my elbow, flexing my knee back and forth.It still hurts pretty bad, but I don’t think it’s broken, just badly bruised.
“I think I tripped,” I say.“Or I stepped wrong, or something.”
I straighten my leg, bend it, straighten.Hunter is hovering, kneeling next to me, frowning.
“I’m fine,” I tell him.
He gets to his feet and offers me one hand.I take it, and he pulls me off the ground like he’s lifting a stuffed animal, the muscles in his forearm bunching.
I’m suddenly reminded that we’re going to be spending at least one night together in a twelve-by-twelve cabin, alone, and complicated feelings or not he’s stillsuperhot.
Maybe I should have picked a different hiking buddy after all.
“At least you chose the right place to take a dive,” he says, nodding his head at the cabin behind him.
I laugh, and take a step toward my pack to pick it up again.
“Yeah, I —shit,” I yelp, pain shooting through my right ankle.
I nearly go over again.The only reason I don’t is because Hunter grabs me as I stand on my left leg, hopping a little, flailing my arms around.
“Your knee?”he asks.
I shake my head and take a deep breath.
“Ankle,” I say.“Fuck.Fuck.”
This is bad.Immediately, I start running through disaster scenarios: it’s broken.I won’t be able to walk, and I’ll have to get helicoptered down, all because I didn’t look where I was walking.Or, there won’t be any helicopters available, and I’ll have to wait a week.
I feel like the world’s biggest asshole.
“Okay,” says Hunter, his hand on my back.“First thing, I’m gonna get you and our stuff into the cabin, and then we’ll see what’s going on with your ankle.You probably just turned it and all you need is ice.”
I look over at him, a little surprised at how perfectly calm he is, and how fast he took charge of the situation.
