“Did you hit someone?” The low, strained voice was hers, but the cloud of tears and fear in it gave it an alien quality.
“Zach. I hit him twice. The first time he tried to help me get out of the bed. The second time when he wouldn’t shut the fuck up at PT.” Wry humor unfolded in his tone.
His continued to move his hand against her back, a soothing motion that amped up her other senses. She hurt. All over. Her body was one big, aching bruise. The white hot lances boring into her skull were worse.
“I didn’t mean to freak out.” The longer he held her, the safer and more secure she felt. It hurt. But it hurt in a good way. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair, kiss her way down his body, and show him how good it felt. But she wasn’t even sure her legs would hold her up.
“I know.” Logan’s heart thumped a steady cadence beneath her ear. Little by little, the hard strength of his body pressed into hers. Despite the comforting nature of his hold, she felt the weight of his erect cock pressing through the denim. At least he wasn’t completely turned off by her.
“I’m scared.” She owed him a confession for a confession. “They keep saying TBI—traumatic brain injury—like it explains everything, but then they won’t let me try to use my legs. My hand doesn’t work right. Fuck, my memory doesn’t work right.”
“Not yet. But that’s why you do the PT for the body and the MT for the brain.” He sounded so damn sure.
“I need my brain fixed, not shrunk….” She’d already accepted the fact that she wasn’t going back anytime soon. Other Marines would fill in where she left off. They would take care of Anoonseh and the other girls.
Logan’s hip vibrated. A metallic tone, like a woodpecker hammering at high speed hummed. Images of the classroom filled her mind. Anoonseh’s shy smile as she hurried down the hallway. She called sar-jent in broken English. The child hesitated and Jazz tugged off her helmet. The girls weren’t always comfortable with their uniforms. She held out a sheet of paper with her version of ‘what she wanted to be when she grew up’ detailed on it. The vibration humming spiked through her mind. She grabbed Anoonseh and flung her into the room. Bright light enveloped her.
“Gunnery Sergeant Winters?” The light stabbed through her pupils.
Jazz blinked, turning her face away from it. Her head was so full and the light added to the pressure. “Stop.” The word slurred.
“Easy, gunny. Can you tell me where you are?” Who the fuck was asking that question?
“Where’s Anoonseh?” The stupid light cut through her vision again. Someone held her still.
“Answer him, Jazz. Do you know where you are?” Logan’s muffled voice sounded behind her.
“I’m in Texas. At a hospital. Mike’s Place. The fucking light hurts.” Short sentences, but the assault by light stopped.
“Excellent, Gunny. Excellent. What’s my name?” Were they playing twenty questions? She blinked away the blur bleeding at the edges of her vision and stared up at the lieutenant who’d swapped his uniform for some navy blue scrubs and a white lab coat.
“Lieutenant Masterson.”
“Excellent.” The Naval officer nodded. “Okay, no more field trips today, and we’re going to get that CT scan now. You all the way back with us?”
“What happened to Anoonseh? Did I save her?”
“She’s fine. Some bumps and bruises according to the on-scene guys, but no major injuries. You took care of her, Gunny.” The doctor looked down at the chart in his hand. “I can send a request for an update if you like.”
“Please.” Memory trickled in. The hospital. The airport. The listing of her injuries. The walk with Logan…. “Logan?”
He shifted from behind her and filled her vision. “Right here, sweetheart.”
“Did I freak out again?”
“Something like that. But they’re going to run some more tests.” He ran his knuckles down her cheek, a familiar caress.
“I am really starting to hate that word.” Her insides twisted despite the rueful humor. Because what if they never figured it out and she kept losing pieces of herself?
How long before she lost herself entirely?
Chapter Four
“These are the anti-seizure meds. She needs to continue taking them as prescribed. I’ve marked everything with the timing. We’re keeping her on the antibiotics, as well. We’ve broken the first week up into packets.” Reade gestured to the thin white plastic wraps around groupings of pills. “We’ve also broken those down into the packets she needs to take. White for morning, blue for afternoon, red for evening, black for before bed. They should all be taken with food.”