His phone buzzed an hour later. Text from Ghost. "Beth says message delivered to Quinn. Quinn says she'll pass it to Mara."
Logan's chest tightened. She'd get the message. Probably within the next few hours. And then he'd find out if the promise he'd made at that rally point had meant something to her or if it had just been words in the moment.
The next three days were torture. Logan threw himself into PT with an intensity that made Martinez threaten to dial back his sessions. He couldn't sleep. Couldn't focus. Every time his phone buzzed he grabbed for it hoping for a response that didn't come.
"She's probably just busy," Bulldog said on day two. "Running operations. Saving people. You know, the stuff she does."
"Or she's not interested and doesn't know how to say it."
"Or you're spiraling and need to give her time to process." Risk handed him a water bottle during PT. "You dropped a message on her out of nowhere. She's allowed to think about her response."
Logan knew they were right. Knew he was being irrational. But the waiting was killing him. The not knowing. Thepossibility that he'd put himself out there and she'd decided he wasn't worth the complication.
On day four, his phone buzzed during PT. Text from Ghost. "Message from Quinn. Forwarding now."
Logan's hands shook as he opened the forwarded message.
"Tell Logan that I remember the promise. That Louisiana's not that big if you know where to look. And that the beer's waiting whenever he's ready to collect."
Logan read it three times. Then a fourth. His chest tight. His pulse racing. She'd responded. Had actually responded. Had told him the beer was waiting. Had left the door open for him to follow through.
But there was a problem. A big one.
"You okay?" Martinez asked, noticing he'd stopped mid-exercise.
"Yeah." Logan looked up, but his mind was already spinning. "I'm better than okay."
He finished PT in record time. Bulldog was waiting in the lobby.
"You look different. What happened?"
"She responded." Logan showed him the message.
Bulldog grinned. "Told you. Now what?"
"Now I have a problem." Logan stared at his phone. "She says Louisiana's not that big if I know where to look. But I don't know where to look. I don't have her number. Don't know what city she's in. Don't even know her last name."
Bulldog's grin faded. "Shit. You're right."
"I can't just show up in Louisiana and wander around hoping to run into her. That's insane." Logan ran his good hand through his hair. "I need to send another message. Ask for a way to actually contact her."
"Through Ghost and Beth and Quinn again?"
"Unless you have a better idea."
Bulldog thought for a moment. "What if you ask for direct contact? A phone number. Something that doesn't require playing telephone through three intermediaries."
Logan nodded slowly. "Yeah. That could work." He pulled out his phone and texted Ghost. "Need you to send another message through Beth to Quinn. Ask if Mara would be willing to give me a way to contact her directly. Phone number. Email. Something. Tell her I want to collect on that beer but I need to know how to find her first."
Ghost's response came back immediately. "On it. Sending now."
Logan sat down in the lobby, suddenly nervous again. Asking for her contact information felt like a bigger step than the first message. Felt like crossing a line from theoretical interest to actual pursuit. What if she said no? What if she wanted to keep things at a distance?
"She'll say yes," Bulldog said, reading his expression. "She reached out to you. That means she wants this too."
"Or she was just being polite."
"Nobody's that polite. Stop overthinking it."
