Page 138 of Reeves

His face splits into a grin so wide it makes my own cheeks hurt.

A soldier in fatigues explains how the vehicle works, and Benjy asks three questions in rapid succession. The man looks at me with his eyebrows raised.

"He's always like this," I explain. "Curious about everything."

Charli laughs beside me, the sound light and genuine. "Last week it was how washing machines know when to stop spinning."

Her laugh catches me sideways. I've always loved her unguarded laugh.

Benjy moves on to the next display, and we follow closely, making sure not to lose sight of him. The crowd shifts again, and Charli steps closer. My arm falls naturally across her shoulders. Not pulling her in. Just resting there.

We watch Benjy press his face against the glass of a tank simulator, his profile sharp against the light.

"We made him," I say quietly in her ear. I inhale her shampoo before straightening.

Benjy turns and waves us over, and as we walk toward him, my mind begins to drift into uncharted territory. What if this wasn't just today? What if this became weekends, then weeks?

What would it be like to build something permanent instead of always preparing to leave?

We spend two hours at the tank show before Benjy's energy finally starts to flag. Not from boredom because he's clearly into all of this, but from sensory overload. He's absorbed everything he could possibly see, touch, and hear.

"And then the gunner said they can hit a target two milesaway. Did you know that?" Benjy skips alongside us as we head back to the parking lot, still vibrating with excitement.

"Pretty impressive, right?" I ruffle his hair, watching him bounce on the balls of his feet.

The sun hangs low over the water as we reach the truck, painting everything in gold. My stomach growls, and I realize I haven't eaten since before meeting Ridge at eleven-thirty.

"Anyone hungry?" I ask without thinking it through. "We could grab dinner before heading back."

Charli checks her watch, hesitation crossing her face. "It's getting late. Benjy has school tomorrow."

"School?" I blink, confused. "In summer?"

"Year-round schedule," she explains. "Three weeks on, one week off, throughout the year. There's no long summer break, but more frequent, shorter breaks."

I absorb this new information, filing it away. A whole rhythm to their lives that I know nothing about.

"I didn't realize that was even a thing," I admit.

Under the table,my boot brushes against her bare foot, where it’s slipped loose from her flip-flop. I start to shift back automatically, but I stop when she doesn’t move.

I keep my attention on Benjy, nodding along while he explains how tank treads work, but my focus drifts. I’m aware of that small point of contact, of the heat of her skin against mine, of the fact that she hasn’t pulled away.

So I don’t either.

I press my foot back just slightly, enough to make it intentional without drawing attention to it, and a second later, I feel her respond. It’s subtle, almost nothing, but it’s there. It’s not an accident anymore.

“Mom, can I get ice cream?” Benjy asks, pointing toward the dessert menu.

“I guess we can make an exception on a school night,” shesays, her voice steady, like everything above the table is exactly as it should be.

But underneath, it isn’t.

I stay where I am, letting that quiet, hidden connection sit between us, knowing we’re both choosing not to break it.

THIRTY-TWO

Charli