Page 55 of Reeves

By the time I reach Bay St. Louis, it's nearly 3:30. I was hoping to get here before them, but based on when she said they would get here, I think I'm about ten minutes too late.

I park along the road near the beach access and sit for a moment with the engine idling, watching the narrow path that cuts through the dunes.

Part of me still considers turning the truck around and heading back toward New Orleans.

Instead, I shut off the engine and step out.

The sand is soft beneath my boots as I follow the path down toward the shoreline. The sound of the water grows louder with every step until the beach opens up in front of me.

I spot them almost immediately.

Charli stands near the waterline, barefoot in the sand with the wind tugging lightly at her hair. Several yards ahead of her, a small boy runs between the surf and the dry sand with a plastic bucket swinging wildly from one hand.

I slow down without meaning to.

From this distance, I can see the kid’s movements clearly. He runs full speed, then drops into the sand without slowing down, completely locked in on whatever he’s found. I don’t know what to make of it, but I notice it.

For a moment, I can't breathe. My lungs seize, and a lump inches its way up to my brain.

Charli watches him the way parents do when their kids are small, her body angled slightly toward the water, but her attention fixed on the boy’s every move.

The boy crouches again, digging furiously into the sand with a plastic shovel as if he is trying to reach the center of the earth.

My son. I start walking toward them.

Christ.

He's smaller than I imagined. Dark hair catches the sunlight as he moves. There's energy in him, purpose in the way he approaches whatever he's doing.

Charli turns and notices me standing several yards away. Our eyes meet for a brief moment. She doesn’t wave or smile, just gives a small nod that feels more like permission than invitation.

My feet want to stay planted right where I am. Every instinct tells me to keep my distance and watch from somewhere safe, somewhere this remains manageable.

Instead, I force myself to keep walking.

The sand shifts under my boots as I cross the last stretch of beach. Charli notices me before the kid does. Her posture straightens slightly, the only sign she gives that this moment means anything at all.

“You made it,” she says.

Her voice is steady, almost casual, as if this is just another afternoon on the beach.

“I said I would. Thanks for giving me the opportunity.”

She studies me for a second, measuring my reaction, then steps a little to the side.

“Benjy,” she says gently. “Come here a second.”

The kid looks up from where he’s crouched near the edge of the water. He has a plastic shovel in one hand and sand up to his wrists.

He jogs over without hesitation, stopping beside her and glancing up at me with open curiosity.

“Benjy, this is Reeves,” Charli says. “He’s a old friend from when I went to college.”

Benjy’s gaze moves back to me. He studies my face the way kids do, direct and unfiltered, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle.

Green eyes that are bright and focused, slightly narrowed from the sun. The breath leaves my lungs before I realize I’ve been holding it.

Those are my eyes looking back at me.