Because of Jazz. Maybe his friend didn’t see it, but Zach witnessed that struggle from the first moment to the last. Jazz changed Logan’s world. She made him feel like a man again. Zach shifted against the wall, putting a lock on his temper. Maybe Logan couldn’t see it. A dozen surgeries and weeks of rehabilitation had taken its toll on him.
They wouldn’t let it take the same toll on Jazz. Reminding her of the good parts of being alive, of being a woman—of being their woman—would make a difference.
The door opened and Elizabeth Winters blew a kiss to her daughter as she stepped out. She closed the door behind her and stood in front of it. Zach straightened immediately from his lean on the wall, and Logan’s shoulders stiffened next to him. The woman swept a look over both of them.
“Gentlemen. As her mother, what rank would you Marines assign to me?” Her navy slacks, white blouse, and navy colored jacket might have been business attire, but she wore an air of poise and authority they didn’t dare ignore.
“General,” they echoed each other.
“Excellent.” She smiled a dangerous smile and focused on him, and Zach swore the weight of it pressed right against him. “In that case, my daughter insists that she would rather go home with you than have me take an apartment here despite Captain Dexter’s generous offer.”
His relief at that statement was short-lived.
“Now, that said, do not expect that I will be a stranger or that I won’t be watching the two of you. She needs proper care, rest, and to get out of that wheelchair before it sucks the soul right out of her. You will look after her needs and not your own.”
Zach nodded once. He agreed with that assessment. Logan nodded, too. It seemed they were on the same page.
“As far as I know, the doctors have not cleared her for sex. So no taking turns and absolutely no ménage shenanigans until her doctors give the okay.”
Yeah, that’s not uncomfortable. Zach cleared his throat. From the corner of his vision, he glimpsed Logan’s half-grin. The man possessed a warped sense of humor.
“Are we clear?”
“Crystal.” Zach hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt. Talking to her mother about sex, much less their ménage shenanigans was not high on his list of dinner topics, much less standing in the middle of a hospital hallway conversation.
“Elizabeth, we’re one hundred and ten percent behind her recovery. We won’t do anything to impede that. I give you my word.” Logan extended his right hand and Elizabeth shook it, but Logan didn’t let it go immediately. “You won’t have anything to worry about.”
Mrs. Winters smiled and patted his scarred cheek with maternal affection. “You’re a sweet boy, Logan. But don’t try to shovel horseshit at me. You’re all Marines. My daughter wouldn’t know how to take it easy if it kidnapped her with furred handcuffs and hot chocolate. But I will be watching—both of you.” She glanced from Logan to Zach, including him in the warning. “Don’t screw this up.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Logan released her hand, and Zach fought the urge to salute. Civilian or not, Elizabeth Winters understood a lot more than he’d given her credit for.
“Good luck, boys.” The older woman adjusted the strap of her purse, and as she walked away, Zach swore she added, “You’re going to need it.”
He waited until she was down the hall and out of their direct line of sight. “Wow.”
“No kidding.” Logan laughed and pushed his way into the hospital room, Zach hot on his heels. Jazz stared at them moodily from the wheelchair. “Hey, sweetheart, you ready to get the hell out of here?”
“Yeah.” She reached down and popped the lock on the chair’s wheels. “But maybe my mother’s right, maybe, I shouldn’t impose on the two of you.”
“What?” Zach skidded to a halt. “How are you imposing?”
“You’ve both got lives, jobs, responsibilities, and currently I’m a full-time job.” The depression leaked into the open spaces between the words, no matter how strong her voice sounded.
“Correction, we all have lives. You’re the prettiest and most interesting part of ours, so it’s hardly an imposition.” Logan glanced around the room. “Anything we forgot that you’re going to need?”
“No.” The word rode out on a long sigh. “Apparently I didn’t pack much before I came home.” The black humor did little to alleviate the doldrums in her voice. “Roxy boxed up my stuff, but it’s probably headed back to the Navy Yard.” Her home base before she went overseas.