"Hi." Logan heard his own voice come out rougher than intended. "You look amazing."
"You clean up pretty well yourself." She gestured to the beer. "That mine?"
"If you want it. Wasn't sure what you liked so I got a local IPA. Bartender recommended it."
Mara took the beer and clinked it against his. "To paying debts."
"To second chances," Logan replied.
They drank and then Logan did something he'd been thinking about for six weeks. He set down his beer and pulled her into a hug. Not aggressive or presumptuous, just a simple embrace that felt natural and right. Mara relaxed into it, her arms going around his waist, her head fitting perfectly under his chin. She smelled like something floral and clean and underneath that something that was just her.
When they pulled apart, Logan kept one hand on her waist because letting go felt impossible. "I've been wanting to do that for six weeks."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." He leaned in and kissed her. Brief. Testing. Just a brush of lips that sent electricity down his spine and made him wonder why he'd waited so long. When he pulled back, his eyes searched hers. "That okay?"
"That was perfect," Mara said, and her smile told him she meant it.
They took their beers to a corner booth and for the next two hours Logan forgot about everything except the woman sitting across from him. The conversation flowed exactly like it did overtext. Easy. Natural. Full of laughter and the kind of comfortable back-and-forth that usually took months to develop but with them had happened in six weeks of messages that had become the best part of his day.
Mara told him about the drive in, about how her team had been waiting in the common room when she left and how they'd all known where she was going despite her best efforts to keep it quiet. Logan told her about Bulldog picking out his shirt and Risk threatening to break his other arm if he did anything to set back his recovery. They talked about New Orleans and Montana and all the places in between. About music and food and the way the city felt different than anywhere else Logan had been.
"I've never had real beignets before today," he admitted. "Or listened to live jazz on Frenchmen Street. Or eaten a po'boy. I'm culturally deprived."
"We'll have to fix that," Mara said. She reached across the table and took his hand, her fingers threading through his like it was the most natural thing in the world. "I mean, if you want. You're here for the week, right?"
"I cleared the whole week," Logan confirmed. His thumb traced circles on her wrist and he watched her eyes track the movement. "Told my CO I needed personal time. He didn't ask questions." He paused. "I was hoping you might have time to show me around. If you're not busy."
"I can make time." Mara's smile widened. "I've got some flexibility. Can take a few days. Besides, someone needs to make sure you actually experience New Orleans properly."
"Lucky me."
They stayed at the bar until closing, talking and laughing and existing in a bubble that was just theirs. When the bartender finally called last call, Logan paid the tab over Mara's protests and they walked out into the warm New Orleans night. The Quarter was alive around them even at midnight. Music spillingfrom doorways. People laughing on balconies. The smell of the river and jasmine and something frying that made Mara's stomach growl even though they'd had bar food an hour ago.
Logan heard it and laughed. "Hungry?"
"Always. There's a place on Decatur that makes the best late-night po'boys. Want to check it out?"
"Lead the way."
They walked through the Quarter hand in hand and Logan felt something settle in his chest that had been restless since Mosul. This was right. Whatever this was, wherever it was going, it felt more right than anything had in longer than he could remember. Mara knew the streets like she'd grown up here, taking shortcuts through alleys and pointing out buildings with stories he'd never hear anywhere else.
They got po'boys from a place that was barely more than a window in a wall. Logan got shrimp. Mara got oyster. They ate them sitting on a bench in Jackson Square and argued about which was better while Logan got hot sauce on his shirt and didn't even care.
"This is the best food I've ever had," he said around a mouthful of shrimp and bread.
"It's a po'boy."
"It's transcendent. This is what I've been missing my whole life."
Mara laughed and stole another bite of his sandwich. "You're easy to please."
"I'm with you. That's all I need." The words came out before Logan could think better of them but he didn't take them back. Just watched Mara's expression shift from amused to something softer. Something that made his heart rate kick up in a way that had nothing to do with nerves.
When they finished eating, Logan stood and pulled her up with him. "Walk with me?"
They wandered through the Quarter with no destination in mind. Just walking and talking and enjoying being together. Logan told her about the jazz club he'd found last night and Mara promised to take him to better ones. She pointed out her favorite restaurants and the bookstore where she'd spent hours as a teenager and the corner where she'd first realized she wanted to do something that mattered instead of just surviving.
