“Fine. Okay.” Oliver stood and shrugged off his flannel button-up, then his white T-shirt, laying them neatly beside Adam’s bunched-up shirt. “But if I get hypothermia, you have to nurse me back to health.” “Gladly.” Adam gripped the edge, his gaze sliding over the half-inch scars that crisscrossed Oliver's forearms. “I'm holding you to that.” He stumbled as he fought to remove his shoes, then set them side by side. After a quick survey of the path, he squeezed his eyes shut, pulled in a deep breath.
