Page 65 of Reeves

"You don't have to rush off," Lydia says.

"Long drive back to New Orleans. I don’t want to impose any longer than I already have. Appreciate the beer."

True. All of it is true.

Charli's eyes flick to mine across the table. She knows this pattern. She's watched me do this before. The corner of her mouth tightens just slightly, like she’s already decided how this goes.

"You sure?" Ben asks. "Coffee's already brewing."

Coffee means another hour. Another hour means getting comfortable. Getting comfortable means staying.

"Thanks, but I should go."

I'm already standing, muscle memory taking over. Always polite. Already halfway out.

Before I can take another step, Benjy looks up from his plate.

"But what about our night recon? Aren't we going to see if there are any footprints?"

His green eyes are wide and serious. Not whining or pleading, but innocent and trusting.

"Recon?" Ben asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Pirates," Benjy says. "We built a trap today. I wanted to go back and see how it's doing. Check if any pirates have been snooping around."

He says it like it matters. Like it’s real.

I stand there, caught between the door and an impossible situation I didn’t think through.

The silence stretches. Everyone waits.

Benjy's face falls.

"Maybe another night?"

Even a five-year-old can hear the hesitation in that.

"But you said pirates move more at night. You said we should check again after dark."

Did I say that? I think he asked, but I never answered.

I replay the afternoon. Building the trap, explaining how pirates would avoid daylight and how they'd wait for darkness to move their treasure.

Fuck. I did say that.

To him, it wasn't casual conversation. It was intel. A mission briefing.

"It's getting late, buddy. Past your bedtime, probably." I look up at Charli, thinking she wants me the hell out of here. She is pushing around a piece of sausage on her plate.

Ben suddenly stands. "You know what? I was about to run these shells back to the water anyway. Can't leave them in the trash overnight or the whole house will smell like low tide."

Lydia immediately jumps on the idea.

"Perfect. I've got the kitchen under control. Y'all go handle that before it gets too dark to see where you're walking."

She starts stacking plates with renewed energy, like she's been waiting for an excuse to shoo everyone outside.

Benjy straightens in his chair, eyes lighting up.