"You're more than just a soldier, Logan. You're..." She searched for the right words. "You're kind. And patient. You notice things, like how I take my coffee, or when I need space versus when I need you to hold me. And you make really good scrambled eggs."
He laughed quietly, the sound rumbling through his chest against her cheek. "That the bar now? Scrambled eggs?"
"It's a start." She smiled against his shirt. "I'm just saying, you could do anything. Be anything. You don't have to keep putting yourself in danger just because it's all you know."
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "What about you? You ever think about doing something other than war zones?"
Rachel was quiet, thinking about it seriously. "Sometimes. But it feels important, you know? Telling the stories that need to be told. Showing people what's really happening. Making them see what they'd rather ignore."
"It is important. What you do matters."
"So does what you do."
"Maybe. But I'm good at violence. You're good at truth. There's a difference."
Rachel shifted so she could see his face better. "You're good at protecting people. There's nothing wrong with that."
His expression softened. "When did you get so wise?"
"I've always been wise. You're just now noticing."
He smiled and pulled her closer, his arms tightening around her. They fell into comfortable silence, the TV flickering in front of them. Rachel felt her eyes getting heavy. The combination of the warm body beneath her, the stress of the day finally catching up, and the rhythmic sound of his breathing was pulling her toward sleep.
"Rachel?" Ghost's voice was quiet.
"Hmm?"
"About last night. The nightmare. If you have another one, wake me up. Okay?"
She nodded against his chest. "Okay."
His arm tightened around her. "I mean it. Don't try to handle it alone."
"I won't."
She felt him relax beneath her, felt his breathing start to even out. His hand kept moving through her hair, fingers gentle against her scalp. And slowly, she let herself drift off, anchored by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the safety of his arms around her.
Tomorrow they'd keep working. Keep building the case. Keep waiting for the team to come back. But tonight, she had this. She had him. And for now, that was enough.
38
By mid-afternoon the next day, Rachel's eyes were burning from staring at spreadsheets. She'd been at the dining table since morning, cross-referencing convoy manifests with casualty reports, and the numbers were starting to blur together.
She rubbed her face and leaned back in her chair. Across the table, Ghost was equally focused, his laptop screen reflecting in his dark eyes as he worked through encrypted communications Echo had sent overnight.
The house was quiet except for the tap of keys and the hum of the refrigerator cycling on in the kitchen. Outside, she could hear a lawnmower running somewhere down the street, the rhythmic back-and-forth punctuated by the distant cry of gulls.
Ghost looked up, catching her rubbing her eyes. "You need a break."
"I'm fine."
"You've been staring at that screen for five hours straight." He closed his laptop. "Come on. Let's get out of here for a bit."
"We should keep working. The team comes back tomorrow and—"
"And you’ll be useless if you burn out before then." He stood and came around the table, holding out his hand. "Fresh air, twenty minutes, then we can come back to this."
Rachel looked at his outstretched hand, then at her laptop screen full of data that wasn't making sense anymore. He was right. She needed to clear her head.
