Page 119 of Reeves

I open my eyes and stare out into the dim room, the quiet of the house settling back in around us.

This didn’t fix anything.

If anything, it just made everything harder.

But with his arm still around me, his hand resting against my stomach. I don’t have it in me to pull away yet.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Reeves

The Strut:The signature footwork of the second line. It is not choreographed. It arrives in the body before the mind catches up.

"Goddamned pillow."

"What?"

"I was bringing you a pillow, and next thing I know, I'm jumping you. I blame it on the pillow."

The laugh starts in my belly before I can stop it. Low and surprised, but real. The first genuine laugh I've had since I got back to Louisiana.

She grins against my shoulder, and just like that, the careful weight between us shifts. Not gone, exactly. But lighter. Like we're allowed to be people instead of problems for a few minutes.

Her fingers brush over my shoulder again, not clinical this time. Just touching.

The weight of her moves over me like nothing’s changed. The curve of her body fits where it always did, her hair brushing my jaw, that same vanilla and citrus scent. Her breathing evens out before mine does, like it always used to.

This is dangerous territory. Not the sex. The way my body wants to keep her right here. The way, after we shave away all of the pain and time and distance, we are so easy together.

The house is dead quiet. Benjy’s room is maybe thirty feet away. I register it, the reality of where we are, what this is.

I reach for the navy blanket she brought me earlier that landed on the floor. My arm has to stretch, and the movement shifts us both. She makes a soft sound but doesn't pull away.

I shake the blanket out one-handed and pull it over her shoulders, tucking it around her without thinking about it. The motion is automatic. Muscle memory from a hundred nights like this.

She always gets cold after sex. At least, she used to.

The realization hits me sideways. I still know that about her. My hands still know exactly how to cover her so she won't shiver in five minutes.

“You winced,” she says quietly.

I glance down at her. “I did?”

“When you were over me.” Her voice stays soft, not calling it out so much as noticing it. “And again just now when you opened the blanket.”

I start to brush it off out of habit, but realize she's opening a door.

“It's that obvious, huh?" I rub my hand over my face. "Fuck. I know.”

Her fingers move up, resting lightly over my shoulder.

“You've always done that,” she murmurs. “You act like it’s nothing until it turns into a bigger issue you can’t ignore.”

I let out a slow breath, my head tipping back against the couch.

“I knew it was more than just a strain, but I thought if I didn't focus on it, it would go away. I was hoping it would heal like everything else,” I admit.

She goes quiet for a second, like she’s thinking through it.