Page 39 of Honoring Lena

“No.” A weak smile pushed her lips up.

“Me, neither.”

She closed her eyes, just to have them pop open again. “Don’t jerk. That could cause more damage.”

Right. Why couldn’t he be the one hurt, rather than the army medic who’d been assigned to special force troops? He adjusted his hands on her arm and pulled. When she slid toward him, he pushed his foot against her side. Her arm wouldn’t pull any farther, and he worried he was causing more harm than good.

“It’s not working.” Her voice held so much pain tears stung his nose.

“Eena, you’s okay?” Carter’s voice held concern from where he bounced nervously on his knees like he wanted to help.

“I’m fine.” She smiled weakly at him. “Just hurt. Maybe in a little bit you can kiss it and make it better.”

He nodded, determination firm on his little face. “Me do tat. Me make it better.”

Marshall blinked and wiped his sleeve across his eyes before rubbing the sweat from his forehead. Maybe she hadn’t noticed him tearing up. Setting her arm gently on the ground, he stood, stretched his arms over his head, and scanned the area for critters wanting to eat them. He wished his son didn’t have to watch this.

“All right.” Lena spoke with her eyes closed. “We have another option we can try.”

Marshall shook out his shoulders and bounced like he did before a game of one-on-one with Ed. What would happen if this didn’t work? Would she be able to move or would they be stuck here? Obviously, she could walk, unless she’d hurt something else, but would she be in too much pain to move? Marshall rolled his eyes. She’d push through any pain and probably still do more than he did to get them to safety.

“I need you to rotate my forearm so that my palm is facing the sky and my arm makes a ninety-degree angle, like this.” She moved her uninjured arm so it looked like an L. “Then, you’re going to rotate it up, keeping it along the ground, until my forearm rests on my head.”

She showed him what she wanted him to do, her face scrunching in pain and her voice strained. If it hurt to move the side that wasn’t hanging limp, how would she be able to take the pain when he worked the other side? He did one last jump and shake, and squatted next to her, gently moving her palm up.

“Marshall.”

He yanked his hands away like she’d shocked him with an electric jolt.

“Smooth motions here.” Her jaw clenched, then relaxed. “This is going to produce a lot of torque, so if you jerk or force, you’ll break the bone.”

His eyes widened as they darted from her shoulder back to her face. She nodded and gave him a look that reminded him of his weight trainer when Marshall was exhausted and didn’t want to finish the set. Rubbing his sweaty hands on his pants, he positioned himself so he could move her arm better.

“Smooth, Marsh. You can be smooth,” he encouraged himself under his breath.

Lena’s laugh was short and choppy.

“What? You don’t think I’m smooth?” Maybe if Marshall talked, they could both relax.

He rotated her palm to point up, and she cringed.

“You have your moments.” She bit her lip, and her chin trembled. “They’re few and far between, but you have them.”

“Hey now, that’s only because I’m out of my element here.” He forced indignation into his voice as he moved her arm higher. “If you wouldn’t have shot daggers at me back home and actually gotten to know me, you’d see just how smooth I can be.”

A crack snapped from her shoulder. Lena’s agonized scream seemed to rip from her and slice through him like a knife. Her eyes rolled into her lids, and the sudden silence of her passing out filled him with more sickening dread. Oh God, no, please. Marshall slumped to the ground. Had he really just broken her arm and made this horrid trek through the wilds worse?

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