He set her on the edge of the bed gently, then moved to the dresser. Pulled open her drawer and grabbed a pair of underwear. Opened his own drawer and pulled out one of his t-shirts, soft and worn, the fabric thin from years of washing.
He turned back to her and held them out.
Rachel took them, looking up at him, then down at the growing puddle of water forming around his boots. Her mouth twitched. "Logan."
"What?"
"You're soaking the carpet."
Ghost looked down. Water was indeed dripping steadily from his pants, and his boots, pooling on the hardwood where it met the carpet. "Huh."
Rachel laughed, a real, genuine laugh that lit up her tired face. "You're standing there in soaking wet tactical gear dripping all over the floor."
He raised an eyebrow. "If you want me naked, baby, just ask."
She laughed harder, shaking her head. "Oh my god."
Ghost grinned. He reached down and unlaced his boots, toeing them off one at a time with wet thuds, peeled off his soaked socks, then his hands went to his belt.
Rachel watched, still smiling, as he stripped out of the tactical pants. They hit the floor with a heavy, wet slap.
He grabbed a pair of boxer briefs from his drawer and pulled them on, then turned back to her.
She was still sitting on the edge of the bed, towel wrapped around her, his t-shirt and her underwear in her lap. Watching him with an expression that was softer now. Lighter.
"Better?" he asked.
"Much better." She stood slowly, letting the towel drop. Ghost turned around to give her privacy while she dressed, listening to the soft rustle of fabric.
"Okay," she said quietly.
He turned back. She was wearing his shirt and her underwear, the hem of the shirt hitting mid-thigh. She looked small in it. Fragile. But the smile on her face was real.
Ghost pulled back the covers and gestured to the bed. "Come on."
Rachel climbed in, moving carefully. He followed, sliding in beside her and pulling the covers up over both of them.
She turned into him immediately, her head finding the hollow of his shoulder, her hand resting flat against his bare chest. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close.
"Thank you," she whispered against his skin.
Ghost pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Always."
They lay like that in the dark, her breathing gradually evening out, her body going loose and heavy against his. His hand moved in slow circles on her back, the same rhythm from before. Grounding. Soothing.
Within minutes, she was asleep.
Ghost stayed awake a while longer, staring at the ceiling, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing against his side.
Eventually, his eyes drifted closed, and he followed her into sleep.
58
Rachel woke to sunlight streaming through the bedroom window, warm and bright across her face. She blinked against it, disoriented. The bed beside her was empty, the sheets cool to the touch.
She sat up slowly, wincing as her ribs protested. Her body ached, deep, bone-tired ache that came from crying herself out and sleeping hard. But she'd slept. Actually slept.
She slid out of bed, still wearing Logan's shirt and her underwear from last night. Her bare feet hit the hardwood, the floor cool against her skin. She padded down the hallway, listening.
