Chapter 15 Good Morning Messages #3
He was handsome. She'd known that intellectually but seeing him healthy, smiling, looking at her through the screen with those dark eyes that seemed to see right through her defenses, made her stomach flip.
"You clean up nice," she said.
"You're beautiful," he replied without hesitation. "I mean, I knew that. But seeing you like this, not in tactical gear, not in the middle of a firefight. You're really beautiful."
Mara felt heat creep up her neck. "You're not so bad yourself."
"Not so bad. That's what every guy wants to hear." But he was grinning.
They talked for two hours that night. Longer than Mara should have stayed up.
Longer than was smart when she had a 0600 briefing.
But she couldn't make herself end the call.
Couldn't make herself say goodbye when Logan was right there, looking at her like she was the most interesting thing in his world.
About nothing and everything. The conversation flowing as easily as it did over text but with the added dimension of seeing each other's faces. Watching expressions change. Seeing smiles form and eyes light up. It felt intimate in a way that made Mara both nervous and hopeful.
"I should let you sleep," Logan said finally, even though neither of them moved to end the call.
"Yeah. Probably." But she didn't want to go.
"When can we do this again?"
"I don't know. This week is crazy. We have three operations running and I'm point on two of them." She saw something flicker across his face. Disappointment he tried to hide. "But I'll make time. I promise."
"Don't promise if you can't keep it. I'd rather you be honest."
"I want to keep it. I just don't know when I'll have time."
"Then whenever you have time, I'll be here."
They managed one more video call that week. Then Mara went dark for three days during the Miami operation. No texts. No calls. Just radio silence while she and the team extracted two teenage girls from a trafficking ring that had gone violent.
When she finally checked her phone on day four, there were twenty-seven messages from Logan.
The first dozen were normal. Updates. Thoughts.
Random observations. The second dozen got more worried.
"You okay?" "Haven't heard from you." "Getting concerned.
" The last few were just "Please let me know you're alive. "
She called him immediately. Video. He answered on the first ring.
"You're okay," he said, relief flooding his face.
"I'm okay. I'm sorry. Operation went longer than expected and I couldn't make contact."
"Don't apologize. Just. Fuck, Mara. Three days of nothing and my brain goes to bad places."
"I know. I'm sorry." She paused. "This is the job, Logan. Sometimes I go dark. Sometimes I can't explain why or for how long. You know how it is. Can you handle that?"
He was quiet for a moment. "Yeah. I can handle it. Just. Maybe a heads up when you can? Even just 'going dark' so I know it's planned and not because something went wrong?"
"I can do that."
"Good. Because the alternative is me having a panic attack every time you don't respond for twelve hours."
She almost smiled. "You're dramatic."
"I'm realistic. You do dangerous work. I know that. I just need to know you're coming back."
"I always come back."
"Like you came back for me?"
"Exactly like that."
Week six, Logan's tone shifted. Still playful, still easy, but with an undercurrent of something more serious.
"I've been thinking," he texted late one night. Mara saw it at 0200 after crawling into bed. Responded immediately because for once she actually had time.
"Dangerous habit."
"I'm serious. I've been thinking about that beer I owe you."
Mara's heart rate picked up. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. I think it's time I paid that debt."
"You want to meet." It wasn't a question.
"I want to meet. Face to face. No screens. No texts. Just you and me and a conversation that doesn't have to end when you get pulled into another crisis."
Mara stared at the message. This was the moment.
The point where whatever this was became real or stayed safely contained in the digital space they'd created.
Meeting him would change everything. Would bring their two worlds together in ways that might not work.
Would force them to figure out if the chemistry they had over text translated to real life.
Would require her to carve out time she didn't really have. To prioritize this when there were always a hundred other things demanding her attention.
But she wanted it. Wanted to see him in person when he wasn't injured. Wanted to hear his laugh without the filter of phone speakers. Wanted to find out if the connection they'd built was as real as it felt.
"Where?" she typed.
"Anywhere. I'll come to you. You pick the place and time and I'll be there."
"You're still recovering."
"I'm cleared for travel. Doc says as long as I don't do anything stupid like get in another firefight, I'm good." There was a pause. "Say yes, Mara. Let me buy you that beer."
She could say no. Could keep this contained and safe. Could protect herself and L'Abri S?r and everything she'd built by keeping Logan at a distance.
But she didn't want to.
"There's a bar in New Orleans," she typed. "Quarter Moon. It's quiet. Good beer. We can talk without the whole place listening in."
"When?"
Mara pulled up her calendar. Three operations in the next two weeks. Briefings. Resident care. The normal chaos of L'Abri S?r. She found a Saturday with nothing critical scheduled. Hoped nothing would come up.
"Two weeks. Saturday. Eight o'clock."
"I'll be there."
Mara set down her phone and stared at the ceiling.
Six weeks of texts and calls and getting to know someone who felt like he understood her in ways most people didn't. Six weeks of chemistry and laughter and late-night conversations that made her feel less alone.
Six weeks of Logan being patient while she juggled operations and responsibilities and the constant demands of keeping ninety-four people safe.
And now she was going to meet him. Going to find out if what they had was real or just a product of circumstance and adrenaline and two people who'd shared an intense experience.
Her phone buzzed one more time.
"Can't wait to see you, Mara."
She smiled and typed back, "Same, Logan. Same."
Then she set an alarm, climbed into bed, and tried not to think about Saturday. Tried not to worry about what would happen if an operation came up. If she had to cancel. If the reality of her life made this impossible.
Tried not to hope too hard that this thing between them could actually work despite the fact that his world was recovery and waiting and hers was chaos and constant motion.
But she was hoping anyway.
Because some things were worth the risk. And Logan Reed was starting to feel like one of them.