Page 43 of Reeves

Six years and one word, and my stomach drops like I'm eighteen again. His voice does that. It always did. I'd forgotten, or told myself I had.

"Reeves."

I slide into the chair across from him, careful not to brush his legs beneath the small table.

We don't shake hands. We don't hug. Not business, not personal. We've become something undefined in the years since we've seen each other.

“You look well,” Reeves says.

The words sound polite, but his eyes move over me in a way that doesn’t feel polite at all.

“So do you,” I reply.

He glances briefly around the room, then back to me. “You said you had a seminar today?”

“Yeah, continuing education,” I say. “Pediatric trauma techniques.”

He nods once.

The server appears beside the table before either of us can say more.

“Gin and tonic,” I say.

“Bourbon. Neat.”

Reeves doesn’t look away as the server walks off.

“Are you still working in finance?” he asks.

I worked for a stockbroker as his executive assistant right after college. It was a good job, but it was never a career. Just shows how deep the gap is between us. He doesn't know me at all. Not even the version of me who spent months planning out a preschool like it was already real.

“No. I started occupational therapy school not long after.” I stop there, avoiding the timeline. “I've been a therapist for about three years.”

He gives a small nod.

“The military has been good for you,” I say. “I'm glad.”

“It has.” His gaze holds mine a second longer than it needs to. “I don’t sit still well.”

Our drinks arrive. I take a sip that burns all the way down.

Reeves wraps his hand around his glass but doesn't drink. "I just read your letter."

Those words hit me like a physical force. I nearly choke. I clear my throat as my fingers tighten around the cool glass.

My letter.Theletter? The last one I wrote him and left for him on his windshield?

"I'm not sure what you're saying. Are you talking about the note I left you six years ago?" The question comes out sharper than I intended.

Reeves sets his untouched bourbon on the table. "I never saw it before. Yes, that letter. I got it that morning, but I put it in my drawer without reading it."

"You just put it away? For six years?" Heat rises up my neck. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I was leaving for Navy training that afternoon. I'd already signed the papers. Already made the choice." His voice drops lower. "I was afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid you'd give me a reason to stay."