He put a hand on her thigh, pressed. When she nodded, he pressed her other leg. “Move your feet for me, Laura. Okay, good.” Part of his throat opened again when he saw her feet move and flex. “You’re a little banged up, that’s all.” And in shock, he noted, studying her pupils. And in pain. “I’m going to get you up.”

“My shoulder.” She tried to reach for it, fought off a wave of nausea. Black and boiling nausea. The pain was unspeakable, and even breathing threatened to make her retch. “Did I break it?”

“No, just knocked it out of joint.” His hands were clammy when he closed them over hers. Blood oozed from a dozen gashes he didn’t even feel. “Done it myself a couple times. Hurts like hell. I’m going to be right back, okay? Just a couple minutes.”

“No, don’t—” The wrenching pain slammed into her. She tried to move away, escape it. Sweat pearled on her face and her eyes went glassy.

“Okay, hold on.” He couldn’t leave her like this, in shock and pain. Simply couldn’t leave her here, suffering. He could fix it—though the thought of what it would take out of both of them churned like acid in his stomach. “I can pop it back in. I’ll hurt you, but it’ll give you relief. You’re better off with a doctor, though. Just hanging on until I can get—”

“Please.” She closed her eyes. Agony was an icy white knife digging into muscle and bone. “I can’t think. I can’t think over it.”

He shifted, braced himself beside her. He wiped a hand over his mouth, smearing blood. “Don’t think. I want you to scream. Let out one long, loud scream.”

“What?”

“Scream, goddamn it.” He held her down with one hand, took a firm grip on her arm, hissing when her eyes opened wide and stared into his. “Now.”

She felt the jerk, the sick roll of it echoing in her stomach. And white again, white-hot. Then nothing.

His hands were slick with sweat and blood, slippery enough that he nearly lost hold. His stomach churned as he watched her eyes roll back, felt her go limp under him. Gritting his teeth, he snapped the joint into place. Then his breath whooshed out and he lowered his brow to hers.

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He did lift her now, cradling her in his arms, rocking them both. He lost track—ten seconds, ten minutes, he had no sense of time passing until she stirred again.

“It’s all done, don’t worry.” He pressed his lips to her hair, buried his face there until he managed a greasy grip on control. “It’s better now.”