Page 54 of Reeves

My thumb hovers over the screen. Once I say yes, there’s no pretending this doesn’t change anything.

THIRTEEN

Reeves

The Second Line:The crowd that forms behind the first line — not of obligation, but of belonging. You join because something in you has to.

I siton the back patio staring at my phone. The screen glows in the dark, the only light besides the dim blue pool light behind me.

She said it quietly yesterday, the way people say things that change the shape of your life. My jaw clenches. I set the phone face down on the coffee table and run both hands through my hair.

In my world, you gather intel, build a plan, and execute. Variables are accounted for. Contingencies are mapped out.

A five-year-old son you didn’t know existed doesn’t fit into any of that.

I stand and pace to the sliding door, then back to the edge of the patio. The night air is heavy and still.

I just want to meet him.

That’s what I told her last night. It sounded simple when Isaid it. One meeting. One conversation. See the kid. Then I leave for deployment, and everything goes back to the way it was.

Except, now the reality of actually meeting him sits on my shoulders like a cinder block.

Right now, he’s abstract. He’s just a piece of information I’m still trying to process.

But if I meet him, if he looks up at me, then this stops being abstract. It becomes real. And once it’s real, leaving becomes something else entirely.

My jaw tightens. I pick up the phone again.

Maybe the smartest move is to tell her something came up. That I got called away early.

I start typing.

I'd love to, but things have changed and I don't think I'll make it back to Bay St. Louis before I leave.

The cursor blinks at the end of the message.

I stare at it for a long time before setting the phone back down. I stand up and pace. The phone still sits on the table like a live grenade.

For the first time since Charli told me about the kid, real panic hits. Not the sharp, controlled awareness that comes before a mission. This is different.

I could tell her I need more time.

The way she looked at me that night surfaces. Like she already knew how it would end. Like I was already halfway out the door.

I exhale slowly and drag a hand across the back of my neck.

I’m doing it again.

My gaze drops to the phone again.

Fuck that.

I grab my keys from the counter. If I think about this any longer, I will talk myself out of it. Then I will prove every doubt Charli has about me. I'd confirm every suspicion that I cannothandle anything that requires staying in one place long enough to matter.

The drive from New Orleans to Bay St. Louis gives a man plenty of time to reconsider his decisions. Traffic thins as the city falls away behind me, the road stretching west along the dark edge of the water. My hands stay tight on the steering wheel the entire drive.

I keep telling myself this is simple. I am meeting a kid who likes digging holes in the sand. I'll say hello, make small talk, and then leave when it's appropriate.