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“Oh!” Tarley bumped against the top of the tent.

Ollie had hold of his nose, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Oh stars,” she said and grabbed his face with her hands. “Let me see.”

“Did you save me only to make sure I was in pain when you killed me?” Ollie dropped his hand, smiling.

Relieved, Tarley took a breath, inspecting his nose. Such a nice nose. “It isn’t bleeding.” There was a small scar on the bridge, but otherwise, a straight, proportional nose. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to being in here with someone else.”

Ollie chuckled, as if he knew why she’d moved so quickly, which made Tarley press her teeth together with annoyance.

“Let’s get you outside,” she said, wrapping an arm around him. Ollie leaned on her as they moved tentatively through the tent, hunched together. “It’s good for you to be moving around,” she said. “You just have to be careful.” She didn’t like the sharpness of her nerves, which made her feel like chattering to soothe them. She wasn’t a chatterer—that was her sister Brinna and sometimes her brother Mattias. Not her. Ever. She pressed her teeth together harder.

Once they were outside, she straightened as best as she could under his weight. To be fair, he also stood taller, as much as the pain in his ribs allowed, and she couldn’t help but notice how she fit under his arm slung across her shoulders. The thought was discomfiting. To take her mind off her trail of thoughts, she asked, “Can you walk on your own?” and tried to put space between them.

Ollie reached out and grasped onto her, refusing to let her go. “I think I might need a bit more of your help.”

“Let’s get you to that tree. You can use it to hold you up.”

“You sure you don’t want to keep an eye on how well I eliminate my water?”

Her eyes jumped to his.

He grinned down at her.

She looked away, unable to concentrate with his dimpled smile under that beard and his gleaming hazel eyes. “You’re teasing me.”

“I am.” He leaned a bit more into her, which made her want to push him off. She didn’t, holding true to her morals and ethics rather than her emotions. “Apologies,” he said. “I couldn’t resist. I must confess, I get a bit irreverent when I’m embarrassed.”

“Why would you be embarrassed?” she asked as they shuffled over the grassy loam, grateful for the soft grass to protect Ollie’s bare feet and wishing she’d thought of something to protect them. He had nice feet. She snapped her head up to stare at the tree line ahead. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I haven’t had to rely on someone else to help me with my basic needs.”

She didn’t try to invalidate his very real struggle. In his position, she would probably make a terrible patient.

They’d reached the tree line.

Ollie reached out, pressing his palm to a tree. “So, I think I can do this.”

“Of course you can. I’ll just leave you to it.” She turned to go, hating that her cheeks warmed.

“Wait!”

She turned back.

“Take the blanket,” Ollie said, and pulled it from his hips.

She shielded her eyes against his nudity.

“I thought it wasn’t anything you haven’t seen before.”

Though she wasn’t looking at him, there was a smile in his voice.

She closed her eyes. “Right.” She dropped her hand, then opened her eyes once more, keeping her gaze on his face.

He smirked, seemingly at ease in his bare skin. “We wouldn’t want the blanket to get dirty.”

She took it from him, her eyes fixed on his, then tilted her head and smirked back at him. “True.” When his hand brushed hers, sparks shot from the origin, racing with heat along her skin until it exploded between her shoulder blades, but she concealed any reaction, maintaining eye contact and her smirk. Two could play at this game, she decided, unwilling to give him the upper hand.