Page 165 of Reeves

“I’m going to ask you to leave.”

I straighten, smoothing my shirt at my waist.

“You won’t need to.”

I hold his gaze one more second, then turn and walk toward the door.

THIRTY-EIGHT

Charli

The Return:The neighborhood has walked through grief together and come out the other side still standing, still moving, still whole.

I pullup to the wrought-iron gates of the Creston House just as Reeves appears from behind a massive oak tree. He waves us through, his hand guiding me toward a parking area beside the house. The gates close with a quiet hum behind us.

"Wow," Benjy breathes from the backseat. "Is that a mansion?"

The house looms above us, all weathered gray-green paint and twisted iron balconies. Spanish moss drapes from ancient oaks, and the whole place looks like something from a history book.

"It's big," I say.

I've seen it before. I just forgot, somewhere between six years of Medicaid claims and leaky faucets and choosing between Benjy's school supplies and my own car payment, that this is the world Reeves came from.

The one he ran away from.

The one he'll always be able to come back to.

I don't have a world to run back to. I built mine from scratch.

Reeves opens my door before I can reach for the handle. His fingers brush mine as I step out, sending heat up my arm.

"Welcome," he says, eyes holding mine for a beat longer than necessary.

Benjy scrambles out of his booster seat, craning his neck to take in the towering columns.

"This is where you live?"

"Not really. No one lives here, but a very famous family did once." Reeves lifts Benjy's overnight bag from the trunk. "Want to see the cool part?"

Benjy immediately grabs Reeves's hand and follows beside him through a side entrance, past rooms filled with antique furniture and paintings in heavy frames. Benjy's eyes are wide, his hand trailing along polished wood surfaces.

"Don't touch anything expensive," I whisper.

"Did the very famous people leave all of their stuff when they moved out?" Benjy asks, trying to understand why it's set up as a house but no one lives here. I tried to explain to him in the car what a tour house is, but obviously, he didn't grasp it.

Reeves stops at what looks like a bookshelf and presses a screen. The entire wall swings inward.

"No way," Benjy gasps.

"This was the old secret office. But this still isn't the coolest part. Come on." He leads him to a door that opens to a set of stairs.

Stone steps lead down into soft lighting. Benjy bolts down in front of both of us. My hand finds the rail just as Reeves's hand covers it, steadying me. The contact sends electricity straight through my entire body.

There is a large metal door that is open at the bottom.

The space opens into something I never expected. Cleanlines, modern furniture, a kitchen that belongs in a magazine. Everything is pristine, expensive, beautiful.

"I forgot how cool this place is," I gawk as I take it in. "It still blows my mind you can have an underground place like this in this city."