Chapter 15
The team converged at the Humvees, boots hitting the dirt, dust rising with every step. Rachel's legs felt heavy, muscles still twitching with leftover adrenaline from the firefight.
She moved to follow, but Ghost was already beside her. His hand landed at the small of her back, just beneath the edge of her vest. The feeling warm and solid.
His thumb brushed once against the damp fabric of her shirt. The touch was light, almost casual, but it shot straight through her.
Rachel's spine straightened. Something about that hand steadied her, grounded her when everything else still felt like chaos.
They walked together toward the lead Humvee. Nobody said anything, but Rachel caught the looks. Quick glances from Predator and Frost. Nothing overt, just acknowledgment.
Brick was already behind the wheel, fingers tapping the steering wheel in some rhythm only he could hear. Torch moved toward the backseat, but Ghost caught his eye.
"Take the command seat," Ghost said.
Torch paused. His eyebrow lifted slightly. His gaze flicked from Ghost to Rachel, then back. He nodded once and climbed in front.
Ghost opened the back door. Rachel slid inside, every movement stiff. Her vest caught the edge of the shrapnel wound on her side and she sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth.
She settled against the seat, breathing shallow, one hand pressed to her thigh.
Ghost rounded the vehicle and climbed in beside her, shutting the door with a heavy thud. Dust filtered through the cracked window, coating her skin, turning every breath gritty.
Rachel sat rigid. Her hands rested on her thighs but her fingers kept moving; closing into fists, releasing, closing again. She couldn't stop.
Ghost's hand covered hers.
The touch was warm, his palm rough against her knuckles. His thumb swept across once, gentle.
The tension in Rachel's shoulders eased. She hadn't realized how wound up she was until his hand gave her somewhere to anchor. Her fingers went slack under his.
She glanced at him. His jaw was set, expression carefully neutral. Like touching her was nothing, but his hand stayed exactly where it was.
The Humvee rumbled forward, tires humming over broken ground. Outside, wind scraped sand against the steel frame.
Rachel leaned her head against the window. The glass was cool against her temple, a relief after the heat and dust and blood. Every muscle in her body ached. Exhaustion pulled at her, heavy and insistent.
But Ghost's hand stayed wrapped around hers. His fingers didn't move, didn't let go.
Rachel closed her eyes. Just for a minute. Just to breathe.
His thumb brushed across her knuckles again. Once. Slow.
She didn't pull away.
When they finally rolled back through the gates of FOB Kilo, the base was quiet. Evening had settled in, the sky fading from white to gray. The day's heat still radiated from the dirt, but the air had cooled. A breeze kicked dust along the walkways.
The Humvees came to a stop. Engines ticked as they cooled. The SEALs dismounted fast and wordless, already moving into their post-op rhythm.
Rachel climbed out last. Her boots hit the ground and her legs nearly buckled. She caught herself, drawing a sharp breath as her full weight came down on the shrapnel wound. Her ribs screamed. Her side throbbed, hot and insistent.
The team gathered near the vehicles for debrief. Rachel kept walking, slipping between the canvas barracks.
Her heart was still pounding. She could still feel Ghost's hand on hers in the Humvee, could still see the way he'd looked at her when he'd called her baby.
She reached her barracks and gripped the door handle, ready to collapse inside. Strip off the blood-crusted clothes. Download her camera's memory card before exhaustion took her under completely.
"Rachel."
His voice stopped her cold.
She turned. Ghost was moving fast, boots crunching dirt, eyes locked on hers. Before she could speak, his hand found her shoulder and guided her through the doorway into her barracks.
"Inside," he said, voice low and rough.
Rachel narrowed her eyes but didn't fight it. "What's going on?"
He held up a med kit. "Take your vest off."
She blinked. "Why?"
"Frost saw the blood." Ghost's voice stayed quiet but firm. "Why didn't you say something?"
Rachel kept her tone even. "It's not a big deal."
He didn't believe her. His face showed it.
She exhaled and reached for the clips on her vest. Her hands moved slower than she wanted, each motion pulling fresh pain from her side. The vest hit the cot with a dull thud.
Then she raised her arm. The fabric tugged across her ribs, stuck with dried blood. The tear in her shirt exposed the wound.
Ghost's expression didn't change much, but something flashed in his eyes. Fast and raw.
"Shirt's stuck," she said.
"I see it." His voice had gone rougher.
He stepped close and dropped to one knee in front of her. He'd probably done this a thousand times; patched up teammates, stopped bleeding, saved lives. But the way he was looking at her now didn't feel clinical.
His fingers found the fabric edge and worked it free carefully. The cloth tore away in pieces, stuck to blood and sand. Rachel hissed through her teeth but stayed still.
His fingertips brushed her skin just below the wound. Barely a touch, but it sent heat straight through her.
"Hold it up," he said quietly.
She lifted her arm, exposing the gash fully.
Ghost opened the med kit and pulled out gauze, saline, and antiseptic.
His hands moved with practiced efficiency, but Rachel felt the gentleness underneath.
The soft graze of his knuckles against her ribs.
How his thumb pressed into her hip and stayed there.
He cleaned the wound in silence. The only sound was the cloth on her skin.
"It's shallow," he said finally, voice rough. "But you'll feel it every time you move until it heals."
Rachel nodded stiffly.
"It'll pull when you breathe, turn, carry gear." He wrapped the wound with care, his touch firm but gentle along her ribs. "After you shower, dry it thoroughly, then apply a fresh gauze. Keep it clean." His hands stilled as he looked up at her. "If it gets worse, you come straight to me."
He rose slowly and stopped behind her, close enough that she felt the heat of him against her back.
"You disobeyed a direct order."
Her shoulders tensed. "I saved a life."
"I know."
That made Rachel turn her head to look at him. He was right there, inches away. His eyes were dark, the command stripped away to something rawer.
"You scared the hell out of me," he said quietly.
Rachel's breath stopped. She hadn't expected him to admit that.
When she turned fully to face him, her palm landed on his chest without thinking. His heart was pounding under her hand.
"Thanks," she said, voice coming out lower than she meant it to. "You didn't have to do this. I could've gone to medical."
Ghost stared at her, and this time he didn't hide it.
The heat in his gaze was unmistakable. Her pulse stuttered.
They'd stopped pretending this was medical.
His hand moved to her face, tucking hair behind her ear, thumb grazing her jaw.
The touch was surprisingly soft. "Don't thank me," he said quietly.
"Just come to me if you're hurt. That's all I want. "
She nodded once. Couldn’t do more than that. Her voice was buried somewhere beneath the sudden heat rising in her throat. She dragged her tongue across her bottom lip, dry from wind and heat and everything they’d just been through.
Ghost’s eyes followed the movement, then his thumb found her mouth, tracing slowly across her lower lip.
Not a kiss. But it felt just as intimate.
Rachel's pulse kicked so hard she could feel it everywhere.
"Take your shower," he said, quieter now. "Dry it good before you wrap it."
He turned toward the door but paused with one hand on the frame. His fingers flexed like he was still deciding something.
"I'll be back to check on you."
He stepped outside without looking back.