“Reade. How’s my gunny doing?” Logan may have been asking the nurse, but he never looked away from her.
“She’s a Marine.” Reade was Navy and his tone spoke volumes.
Logan grinned. “Yes, she is. See you later, man.” He waved the nurse out the door and closed it behind him. Snagging the chair, he dragged it back over to her bedside. “So, how are you doing?”
“This sucks. I can’t even make a fist.” She held up her right hand, partially curled. The ache of the recent cramp twitched her fingertips as she tried to close it.
“What about your left hand?” His nonplussed response eased the aggravation in her soul. She curled that hand without any effort and brought the fist up parallel with her right. He nodded an acknowledgement. “Do you have feeling in the fingers on both?”
“Left feels fine. Tingles in the right.”
“Then it’s your nerves and we knew that might be an issue. PT will help. You have to be patient.” Even though the scarred left side of his mouth didn’t curl up with the rest of his grin, his easy tone carried rueful humor.
“It’s fucking frustrating.” At least fr-words weren’t giving her shit. She leaned back against the pillows. She wanted a shower. She wanted out of this room. She wanted on her feet and walking. She wanted her brain to cooperate.
“Yep and bitching only helps a little.” Logan caught her right hand, interlacing his fingers between hers and massaging them slowly. “But I might have a solution to at least one of your problems.”
Her womb clenched. Did that solution include getting laid? Her nipples tightened at the very thought, but Logan wasn’t looking at her body. Well, not precisely. He swept his glance down to her legs and back to her face.
“What’s the solution?”
“How about we go outside for a little while?”
Next to sex, that was the best offer he could have made. She sat forward in a rush and the room wavered sickeningly. Her cheeks puffed with the three hard breaths she took, but she forced the nausea down. She needed out of that room, and her body could shut the hell up long enough to get her out of here.
Logan strode over to the door and pulled it open, retrieving a wheelchair outside and backing it into the room. Her heart sank. If only he didn’t have to push her around like some damn invalid.
“It’s the wheelchair or nothing.” He didn’t look at her.
“Fine.” He didn’t deserve her grumpiness, but disappointment rode hard on the bitch seat of irritation with herself, with him, with the whole damn situation.
He flipped her blankets back, revealing her chicken legs. The pale limbs lacked their usual muscle tone or definition. The bruises from the explosion were gone, but one jagged pink scar wrapped around her left calf and halfway across the shin. She didn’t even remember the stitches from it, but it was an ugly little bastard. She started to edge her legs to the side of the bed, but Logan slid his arm underneath her knees and wrapped another around her back.
She barely had time to soak in the enjoyment of his touch before he set her down in the chair. The room spun in a full one-eighty before righting itself again. Logan knelt next to the chair and pressed his hand against her bare leg.
“Breathe through it.” The warmth of his grip on her thigh gave her another focus, and she latched onto it. Gradually the swimming sensation in her head eased up, and she gave a shaky laugh. “Better?”
“Yeah. I’m okay. Whew. So where do we get to go?” She forced lightness into her tone. “If it’s another test, I’m going to be pissed at the bait and switch.”
“I thought a stroll around the quad would be good for you, and your doctor agreed. We have to stick close to the hospital wing, but there’s a great shady spot along the walking path we can take a break at.” He dragged the blanket off her bed and tucked it around her legs. It couldn’t possibly be cold enough outside to need it, but she didn’t care.
She was getting the hell out of the sterile white room with its neutral décor and standard furniture. Cradling her right hand in her left, she tipped her head back to look up at Logan. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He bent down and brushed her mouth with the barest whisper of a kiss. Her heart mimed a fist pump at the casual affection. It was the closest to a real kiss he’d given her since she woke up in Texas. “Now, eyes front, Marine. So you don’t get sick.”
“I’d rather look at you.”
“Yeah?” The right side of his mouth inched up. “So would you rather do that in the hospital or outside?”