The tangled sheets shoved away easily when she scooted to the edge of the bed. Her movements were careful, in part to gauge how well her leg would behave, and in part to not wake Logan up. The carpet rasped against the bottom of her feet and she curled her toes, like she’d practiced in physical therapy.
All ten curled. All ten released. Oorah! Pressing one fist against the bed, she rose, feet flat against the floor.
“What are you doing?” The husky tone in his sleepy voice caressed her senses.
“Going to pee.”
The bed dipped as he levered up. “Nudge me. I’ll get you in there.”
“No.” She shoved off the bed and stood. Her legs trembled, a hundred pins and needles rolled up from the bottoms of her feet to prickle along her flesh. Logan bounced into her periphery, one arm out as though to catch her and she glared at him. “I got this.”
“Jazz…you’re still not up to this in PT. Let me help.” His hand brushed her arm, and she pulled away, stumbling to the side before catching her balance against the wall. Walking shouldn’t be that damn hard.
“If I can wrap my legs around your waist, I can walk on them. I can still do this even if my brain is fuzzy on the details. I need to pee…I just fucked you, I don’t need you to wipe my ass or treat me like a bedridden invalid.” He didn’t deserve the harsh tone and she softened it. “Logan—I need to do this myself. You want to hover and catch me if I fall, fine. But don’t unless I am falling.”
He withdrew his hand, his expression shuttering. She saw the hurt but refused to be moved by it. The last thing she wanted to do was injure him, but she’d tried to tell him what was wrong the night before and he didn’t get it. Or maybe she sucked at explaining it. It was hard to say that she needed to choose between them when they acted like it was okay for her to be with both.
But for how long? It’s okay now. But six months from now? A year from now? No. Better to cut the loss before it kills us. Unfortunately, they both held fast to her heart and no matter how insane it seemed, she was in love with both of them. Focus. Walk to the bathroom. Take a piss. Walk back. It’s not hard. You used to do it all the time.
“All right.” He acquiesced, almost too easily.
Not one to look the gift horse in the mouth, she put one foot in front of the other and used a hand against the wall to maintain her balance. The walk to the bathroom wasn’t more than a dozen feet—but it stretched out ahead of her like miles.
She avoided the mirror as she stepped inside and made her way to the toilet. There was no shame in flattening her hand on the counter as she turned to sit down.
“Open or closed?” Logan stood right next to the door.
“Closed. Please.”
“You got it.” The door shut and she sighed. It didn’t take long to finish.
“I’m standing up again.” The door swung inward at her words. She did it. She walked to the bathroom and used it alone. Her muscles trembled but she didn’t care. Success tasted sweet. “Would you mind taking a shower with me?”
His guarded expression softened. “I’d love to.”
Thirty minutes later, she walked out of the bedroom with one hand braced on Logan’s arm for balance. She was pushing it. Phillips would have her head on a platter, but she didn’t care. She hated that damn wheelchair. The only way to get out of it was to walk steadily.
The enticing scent of bacon and coffee drifted from the kitchen. They followed the inviting smell through the living room, and her heart did a little fist bump with her ribs as Zach caught sight of her.
“Well, check you out.” He grinned. Pride gleamed in his blue eyes and his white teeth provided a startling contrast for his tan skin. He appeared relaxed, flipping pancakes while bacon sizzled on another pan. “How’s it feel?”
“Crazy good.” She flashed a smile up at Logan, tickled when the right corner of his mouth turned up and he winked. “Not perfect. Yet. But it will be.”
“Hungry?” The loaded subtext in Zach’s question teased a fresh wave of heat in her belly. He looked good enough to eat.
“Starving.” she promised.
“Then carb up, Marine. You have a lot to do today.” He pointed them toward the table where steam rose from the coffee mugs and a dozen pieces of fresh toast waited.
“Yes, sir.” She wrinkled her nose and began the slow walk over, seeming to get steadier with every step. But the faint trembling warned her not to take longer strides. Logan shifted his grip to her elbow, steadying her as she sat. She glanced up at him and smiled. “Thank you.”
He slid his fingers around the back of her neck and tipped her head back. His lips glided over hers and his tongue invaded. Hunger flooded through her. The kiss demanded and gave in the same breath. When he lifted his head, the heat in his eyes warmed her. “You did great.”