Page 110 of Reeves

I study him across the small patio table. "Did you ever figure out what those things are?"

He lifts his gaze to mine.

"I try not to give them that much attention."

"And why is that?"

He holds my eyes for a long moment before answering.

"Because the things that matter most are usually the ones that hurt the worst when you lose them."

The night grows quiet around us. The porch light hums softly overhead, and somewhere down the street, a car passes.

Reeves doesn't look away.

For someone who has spent his entire adult life in constant motion, he is very still right now. His forearms rest on his knees, hands loose, and he's watching me with that focused attention he gives everything that matters to him.

I used to love that about him. I’m realizing I still do.

I'm aware of exactly how much space is between us. How little of it there is.

I should go inside.

TWENTY-FIVE

Reeves

The Handkerchief:A white cloth lifted into the air. It’s the first gesture of the second line, the body's signal that something has shifted.

The words hangin the air between us.

Charli doesn't break eye contact. Her hazel eyes catch the porch light, and I swear I see a shift.

You're playing with fire, Stone.

But the fire is what fuels me, pushes me.

Charli shifts slightly in her chair. The movement draws my attention to her mouth, the way she's barely breathing, like she's waiting for something to happen.

Don't do this. Don't complicate what she's built.

Except the pull between us isn't complicated. It's the simplest thing in the world.

I watch her mouth when she stops talking.

I've been watching her mouth for four days and telling myself I wasn't.

Don't.

I lean forward anyway. The distance across the small table disappears.

My hands find the edge of her chair, and I grip both sides, pulling her toward me. Now, I'm close enough to see the flecks of gold in her eyes, close enough to smell the faint vanilla scent of her shampoo.

"Reeves."

She whispers my name like a question. Or is it a plea?

I answer by closing the last few inches between us.