Page 131 of Reeves

I go back to the texts and pull up mine and Charli's. I try again.

Hey. I saw a flyer for a tank show in Gulfport. Thinking Benjy might like it –

I send before I can talk myself out of it. Then I write another before she has time to answer.

I'd love to take him. Or we could all go together. I know military stuff isn't exactly your idea of fun, but it might be cool to see it through Benjy's eyes. It's this afternoon if he doesn't get home from the aquarium too late?

The messages show delivered immediately.

Then read.

The typing indicator appears with three dots pulsing.

I watch them, suddenly aware of how quiet the bunker is. Just the gentle lap of water against the pool's edge and my breathing.

The dots disappear.

Minutes stretch. The notification light doesn't flash.

I set the phone down beside me, pick it back up to check that I have service.

I do.

She read it and chose not to answer. Or started to, then stopped.

I'm not sure which is worse.

THIRTY

Charli

The Tambourine:Enters in the second line — bright and percussive, a sound that belongs entirely to celebration and not one note to mourning.

I readReeves's text for the fourth time.

The house is quiet except for the hum of the air conditioner. Benjy at the aquarium has given me space to reset my mind. I'm not sure how much resetting I've done, and now this text from Reeves is the only thing I can think of.

The sunlight shifts through the blinds, casting long bars across the floor. I pace through them, phone clutched in my hand.

The sixth time reading it, I catch how he makes it about Benjy's interests. Smart. Who could argue with that? A boy who loves the military and trucks would obviously love to go to a tank show.

Whatever the hell a tank show is.

It's all so reasonable and simple. So thoughtful. And that's exactly what makes my stomach twist.

Tomorrow is Monday. Usually, Sundays are our quiet days. It should have been chocolate chip pancakes and then lazing around the house or the beach. Instead, it's been nonstop.

Benjy needs to get ready for school tomorrow. And I have my first patient at nine. We just have too much going on to pile another activity on this afternoon. Even without the Reeves complication, it's just too much.

I stop pacing and stare at the phone again.

I press my thumb to the home button, closing the message. I don't need to respond right away. A no now will be the same no in fifteen minutes.

I set the phone face-down on the coffee table. I need to sort laundry and review patient files.

I walk to the laundry room and pull out the warm clothes. My eyes catch on a tiny fleck of light blue paint. It's from the paint catastrophe yesterday, and I can't help but wonder how that got in here. I rinsed them out outside.

I run my finger over it, and it flecks off and falls to the floor. I shake my head at the memory of yesterday.