Page 197 of Reeves

Crickets fill the silence between us. The moon hangs low over the tree line, casting silver light across the yard. I watch Reeves's profile, the strong line of his jaw relaxed now, his shoulders loose.

"You didn't have to do any of this," I say finally.

"Yes, I did."

I set my beer on the table between us and stand. Reeves looks up, waiting. Not moving toward me. Not retreating. Just present.

I step forward, lean into him, and cup his face, closing the distance between us.

The first kiss is soft. Familiar in a way that catches us both off guard. It wasn't planned.

When I pull back, he doesn’t chase it. His eyes stay on mine, steady, giving me the space to make it make sense.

I shift, settling onto his lap without breaking the contact, my hands still at his jaw. Neither of us says anything.

His hand comes up to my waist, but he doesn’t move me or take over.

I study him for a second longer, making sure.

Then I kiss him again. This time, it doesn’t feel like I’m giving anything up to do it.

He pulls back just enough to look at me. His thumb traces my jaw, unhurried, like he has nowhere else to be.

"Stay," I say. It comes out quietly, but the request isn’t timid.

His eyes hold mine for a long second.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

FORTY-SIX

Epilogue

The Handkerchief Stays Up:Once raised in the second line, the white cloth does not come back down. That is not how this works.

The bedroom window is open,bringing the Gulf air through the sheer curtains in slow pulls. Brine and the distant sound of the marsh settle into the night.

I've been taking my time with her. It’s the best part of getting to be inside of her every night.

The first few months were urgent in a way I didn't fully understand until later. It was almost like we were both afraid the other might disappear if we moved too slowly.

Six months in, I've learned to slow down. To make it last. To watch her come undone by degrees instead of all at once.

She's on her back beneath me, her legs wrapped around my waist, her fingers twisted in the sheets because I told her to keep them there.

Her hair spreads across the pillow, and her lips are parted. She looks exactly like what she is, which is mine, completely, in a way that still stops my breath if I think about it too hard.

I pull back slowly, almost all the way, and watch her face.

"Reeves." A warning.

"I've got you."

I sink back into her until I feel the resistance of her deepest point. She gasps like all the air has left her body, and she arches off the mattress.

"Right there." Her voice is wrecked. "God, right there, don't you dare stop?—"

I do it again. Same angle. Same pace.