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“Let me.”

“It’s okay,” I protest again. “It’ll stop eventually.”

“Yeah, when you’ve passed out from losing too much blood.”

Oliver takes one step closer, hesitating for a breath before sliding his fingers along my cheeks again, his eyes roaming my face, worry still etched in those beautiful hazelnut irises. “Please, please let me take care of you right now. I know you’re a stubborn, proud woman, but just this once, let me make sure you’re okay. I can handle you being mad at me for the rest of our lives, and I can handle not talking to you for years, but what I won’t be able to do is survive if something happened to you. Do you understand?” he asks, his breath ragged. He looks at me like he’s a second away from being torn to shreds with panic. “I need you to let me help you. Can you do that for me?”

I’m too tongue-tied to say anything. Too stunned to draw the connection between the half confession he’s just made and the meaning behind it all.

I won’t be able to survive. The words echo in my head, my brain trying to make sense of them, but to no avail. But why? Why wouldn’t he be able to survive? Since when does he care what happens to me? He left me behind once. So why now? Why, when he’s the one who ghosted me, and I was the one who had to figure out how to survive without him?

I must have been silent for a while, because he tries again. “Please, Charlee.”

I nod tightly, not trusting that I won’t burst into a tangle of incoherent words when he looks at me like that, his hair drenched and soaking his face.

Oliver lets out a shuddering exhale and gets to work on my hand. Gently, but with a meticulousness and care that only years of practice can hone, his fingers work around my palm to secure the cloth so that the necessary tension is applied just above it.

“Can you move your arms okay?”

I rotate my shoulders. “Yeah, they’re fine. A bit stiff.”

“To be expected with how strong the current is.” Oliver glances at my left foot, one eyebrow cocked. “Can you put weight on it?”

I shake my head. “I think it’s broken or something.”

“Let me see,” he says, more to himself than to me. He crouches down, raising his eyes to mine. “Can I?”

“Yes.”

Delicately, he rolls my pants up to uncover my ankle. It’s swollen and purple. I swallow, trying to ignore how my body reacts to the brush of his fingers on my skin and the way his broad and sturdy shoulders brush against me as he explores my bruised flesh.

I hiss the moment he presses a bit too hard. He gets back up, mud dusting his knees. “I don’t think you’ll be able to walk on that. I’m not sure it’s broken, but it’s too swollen for you to put your weight on it.”

I glance back at Emma and Trevor, then meet his gaze again. “Well, I’ll have to suck it up.”

The glare Oliver gives me would make more than one person scurry away. “You’re not continuing the trek like that. With the rain, you’ll hurt yourself even more. And put everybody else at risk too.”

I don’t even try to argue, because one, he’s right. It’s not just me on this project, and everybody would need to wait for me, support me, or worse, carry me. And two, even with all my willpower, I don’t think I can stand on my foot.

Trevor walks toward us, Emma in tow with the med kit in hand. “Everything all right over there?” he shouts. “Are we ready to continue?”

He’s not asking if I’m okay, and there’s not even a hint of worry in his eyes. Such a contrast to the man who was kneeling before me a few moments ago.

I square my shoulders, ready to headbutt him. “I can’t walk.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate.” He throws a glance at Axel and Nick, as if looking for backup. “We need to get going, though.”

“I can’t.” I blink, making sure I enunciate every word.

“We’re on a tight schedule, Charlee.”

My brows shoot behind my bangs. “Really?” I quip. “I didn’t know that. Must be the first time you’ve told us.”

Trevor snarls. “I see you haven’t lost that attitude of yours. Where’s the mighty Charlee I’ve heard so much about? I should have trusted my instincts from the moment I saw you at the airport. I knew you didn’t have the spine for this.”

I take a step forward, half limping, and come as close as I can to him. “I would watch what I said if I were you.”

I feel Oliver coming closer to me.