Page 147 of Reeves

"Can I stay here with you tonight?"

The question comes out quieter than I intended. Not a demand. Not an assumption. A request that acknowledges where we are and what's real.

She's quiet for a moment, and I can see her thinking. Processing.

"For a while. But you can't stay in here the whole night."

Her voice is steady, matter-of-fact. There's no apology in it, no softening of the boundary.

"I can't let Benjy come in here and find us like this."

I nod before she even finishes speaking. Of course Benjy comes first. That's not negotiable, and I wouldn't want it any other way.

That's what makes her a good mother.

"I can set an alarm on my phone. Would that be okay? Three a.m.?"

She considers this, then nods. "Yes. I would like that."

I reach for my phone on the nightstand, fingers moving quietly across the screen. The soft glow illuminates her face for a second before I set it aside.

I'll stay awake. Don't want to waste any of it sleeping. But just in case, I have the alarm.

I settle back beside her, pulling the sheet up over both of us.She moves closer, not hesitating. Her head finds the hollow of my shoulder, and I rest my hand on the curve of her waist.

This is what I wanted. Not just the release or the physical connection. This quiet afterward. The way she fits against me like no time has passed.

Her breathing deepens slightly. She’s not quite asleep, but she’s close. I keep mine steady, not wanting to disturb whatever peace she's settling into.

This makes two nights with her falling asleep in my arms.

My fingers trace slow patterns on her bare shoulder. Light touches that say what I can't put into words yet. That this matters. That something has shifted between us that can't be undone.

The room wraps around us, while outside, the night continues. Time moves differently, compressed into these stolen hours where nothing exists except her warmth against my side and the steady rhythm of her breathing.

I watch the shadows on the ceiling, hyperaware of every point where our bodies connect. The weight of her leg across mine. How her hair tickles my collarbone. The way she unconsciously tightens her grip when I shift even slightly.

Whatever comes next, whatever we have to figure out, this moment exists.

I close my eyes and memorize it.

THIRTY-FOUR

Charli

The Elders:Those who watched from the porch at the start of the procession have come down from their steps to join it.

My eyes snapopen to the soft sound of bare feet on hardwood.

Benjy.

The recognition comes before I'm fully awake, some maternal radar that never fully switches off. Then the second realization hits like ice water. Reeves's arm lies heavy across my waist. His breathing rises and falls against my back in deep sleep.

Oh God.

My body goes rigid as everything crashes together. Last night. The sex. The way I let him stay. The promise of three a.m. that came and went hours ago.

The footsteps pause in the hallway before resuming, getting closer.