CHAPTER 178: OPERATION: CHEER UP JEAN

Logan had seen Jean in so many different versions... fierce and biting, clever and guarded, seductively playful, even heartbreakingly silent.

But this?

This was different.

She looked... young.

Like someone who never had a mother to tell her that love didn’t have to hurt. That trust didn’t have to be earned through suffering.

Logan took a step back, not wanting to ruin that fragile peace. But the floorboard creaked faintly beneath his shoe.

Jean stirred slightly, lifting her head, and their eyes met through the small opening of the door.

For a second, Logan thought she’d pull away... go back behind her wall.

But she didn’t.

She held his gaze, her expression unreadable, until Martha followed her line of sight and turned.

"Logan," his mother said with a warm smile. "You have a strong woman in your life."

He cleared his throat, stepping fully in.

"I know," he replied softly. "She just doesn’t know it yet."

Jean looked at him, a thousand things in her eyes... none of which she said out loud.

Not yet.

____________________________

After Martha left the room with a smile and a promise to plan something "thoroughly therapeutic and mildly irresponsible" with Jean, Logan stood by the doorway, unsure if he should step in or give Jean space.

But Jean didn’t move either.

She sat there, hands folded in her lap, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. Her expression was unreadable, not cold... just... far away.

Logan stepped forward slowly.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low.

Jean didn’t look at him. But she gave the faintest nod.

"She’s... different from what I expected," Jean murmured.

"Yeah," Logan said, stepping around the bed, "she doesn’t show it, but once she decides someone matters..." He trailed off, watching Jean’s face.

Her lashes fluttered, and for a moment, he saw something raw flicker across her features... doubt, confusion, maybe even longing.

"You matter," Logan said quietly.

She finally looked up, and the look in her eyes made his breath catch.

There was so much he didn’t understand yet. So much she hadn’t told him. But he knew pain when he saw it. And he knew the weight of pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t.

Jean blinked, breaking the gaze, and began to rise from the bed. But as she did, her sleeve shifted slightly... and Logan caught a glimpse of the faint, healing burn near her elbow.

She tugged the fabric quickly, but it was too late.

"Jean," he said softly. "Let me help with that."

"It’s fine."

"Doesn’t look fine."

She hesitated. Then, without a word, sat back down.

Logan moved slowly, as if she might vanish if he rushed.

He knelt in front of her and gently took her arm. She didn’t flinch... not exactly but her body was taut, like a wire pulled too tight. Logan rolled her sleeve up carefully and looked at the mark.

It wasn’t severe anymore. But it hadn’t healed cleanly either.

Logan reached into the nearby drawer, where he’d stashed a small first aid kit. Quietly, he took out a cooling ointment and a roll of gauze. His fingers were gentle, movements practiced.

Jean watched him in silence.

The way his brows furrowed in focus. The way he didn’t ask questions. The way his touch was careful, not because she was fragile, but because he refused to be another thing that hurt her.

When he was done, he lightly tapped the edge of the gauze.

"All set," he murmured.

Still no words from her. But then, she did something unexpected.

She reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair away from his forehead.

Her fingers lingered for just a second.

Then she spoke, voice barely above a whisper.

"Thank you."

Logan stood slowly, meeting her gaze again.

_____________________________

The air was unusually still. Emma was still in the hospital, and the weight of recent events hung like a curtain over everyone in the room. Jared sat quietly reading the paper, Logan was on his phone replying to some investor email, and Jean sat with her hands wrapped around a cup of untouched tea.

Then Martha cleared her throat dramatically, grinning ear to ear. "Alright, enough of this funeral energy. I’ve made an executive decision."

Everyone looked up... Logan looked at her wary. "That usually means trouble."

"It means fabulous trouble. I’ve decided to take Jean to the mall. Immediately. No negotiations."

Jean blinked. "The mall?"

"Yes. The glorious, overpriced, totally unnecessary therapy center known as retail. You and I are going to buy things we absolutely don’t need, try on clothes we’ll never wear, and eat cinnamon rolls soaked in regret."

Jared raised his eyebrow in question. "Without security?"

"I’ve survived your golf tantrums, Jared. I think I can handle a shopping spree with my daughter-in-law."

Logan smirked at Jean. "She’s going to let you talk her into glitter heels, I’m damn sure of it."

Martha rolled her eyes at him. "That was one time. And I looked amazing."

Jean couldn’t help it... a quiet laugh slipped out. Martha looked smugly pleased with herself.

"There it is! A smile! My job here is done."

Jean mocked her looking serious. "I’m not wearing anything with sequins."

"That’s what they all say... before the dressing room transformation montage."

Logan raised a brow at Jean as she stood reluctantly.

"You sure you’re up for this?"

Hannah teased him, "oh come on brother, we won’t tire her too much. I’ll make sure she will have enough energy left for you back home."

Everyone burst out in laughter. Logan glared at Hannah but that didn’t affect her even a bit.

Jean shrugged, sipping her tea with mock elegance. "If I die under a pile of shopping bags... avenge me."

Martha gently pulled her along. "Oh, don’t be dramatic. That’s my job."

And just like that, the tension in the room eased. For a moment, everything didn’t feel so heavy. Not when Martha Kingsley had turned her mission into Operation Cheer-Up Jean... and no one in the Kingsley family dared stand in her way.