Page 129 of Reeves

I push it away. If this were a different life, one where I lived here and actually knew my son, I’d take him.

But I don't, so it's a moot point.

Inside the office, the industrial air conditioning is a wave of relief.

"Reeves, this is Buck Danfield. Head of our logistics tracking."

A lean man with salt-and-pepper hair and a paunchy gutextends his hand. I shake it, noting the firm grip as pain shoots up my arm.

"Stone's younger brother, huh? Ridge says you've got security experience."

"Navy. Different kind of security."

Buck nods like this makes sense. "Military precision would do us good. We've got blind spots in our operation. Since the, ah… Since losing Robert the way we did, we want to make sure everything is tight."

No one acknowledges Buck's stumble over our father's murder. Everyone moves on like he didn’t just say it.

Ridge gestures to a wall of monitors. "Buck has been working on upgrading our tracking system. We're still using outdated protocols from when Dad ran things."

I scan the screens, noting the camera positions, the digital tags on containers, the real-time movement logs. It's impressive, but I see the gaps immediately.

"Your camera coverage on the northeast corner has a dead zone. And your digital verification happens too late in the chain."

Buck glances at Ridge with raised eyebrows. "Told you."

Ridge smirks. "This is why I want you here, Reeves. You see things others miss. And I don’t have to micromanage you. No disrespect, Buck."

"None taken, Ridge. I can focus on logistics tracking with someone over the entire security operation. That would be the best way to run this."

"Let me show you the rest," Ridge continues.

We walk through a series of offices and monitoring stations. Ridge points out weaknesses, explains their expansion plans, and introduces me to key personnel. I listen, ask questions, and absorb the information.

It's a good strategy, solid business. Nothing like the adrenaline of a mission that rises and then ends.

"You'd have full control of security operations," Ridge explains as we step back outside. "Build your own team, implement your own systems. Make it yours."

"I already told you. I need to see where I stand with the Navy."

"Reeves, I know you know where things stand. But I also understand you want some time to think it through. I just wanted you to see what we have here so you can make an informed decision when you do."

The truth sits between us, uncontested. I hate that he always sees through me.

"Think about it," Ridge continues. "Instead of another deployment, another temporary assignment, you build it and manage it.”

The words echo what Charli offered years ago. Stability. A future in one place.

"I'll think about it."

“Hey. Did you read that piece Gus Thibodeaux did on Dad’s memorial?” Ridge asks.

"Who is Gus Thibodeaux?"

"Journalist at the New Orleans Chronicle. He's been interviewing all of us and the workers for a few months. I was nervous he was going to deliver a hatchet job, but it was actually nice."

Oh, the guy who approached me when I flew in. I do remember him, now.

"I didn't. I try to avoid reading about our family."