Page 78 of Reeves

Her fingers brush mine when we grab opposite ends. The contact lasts maybe two seconds before we both pull back, but the sensation lingers. Her hand used to fit against mine like it belonged there.

She clears her throat and focuses on adjusting the rope pattern. I turn back to Benjy before I linger on it too long, showing him how to wedge the driftwood supports against the trap walls.

"Angle them like this. See how they hold each other up?"

"Oh. Like building blocks but with sticks."

"Exactly."

He positions each piece with the same intense focus he brings to everything. Tongue poking out slightly when he concentrates. Green eyes narrowed in assessment. The expressions mirror my own so closely that it's unsettling.

Charli laughs at a joke Benjy says about pirate treasure maps, and the sound catches me off guard. It's light and genuine, like Iremember. Not like the carefully guarded woman from Thursday night and yesterday.

It's the same laugh that used to make me stop whatever I was doing just to listen.

She sits back on her heels, checking our progress. Sand dusts her knees and forearms. A few strands of chestnut hair have escaped her ponytail and blow across her face in the sea breeze.

She’s still stunning. Maybe more than she used to be, if that's even possible.

"Is it deep enough now?" Benjy asks.

I measure the hole with my eyes. About eighteen inches across and maybe a foot deep. It's surprisingly solid construction.

"Looks good. Now we camouflage it."

"With the palm fronds?"

"Right. But we need to make it look natural. Like they just fell there."

Benjy studies the materials with scientific intensity. He arranges and rearranges the branches until they look random. Testing each placement with his finger to make sure the coverage stays complete.

Charli adjusts the final rope tie, and we all sit back to admire the finished work.

"That's perfect. Pirates won't see it coming," Benjy announces with satisfaction.

He jumps up and walks around the perimeter, inspecting our construction from different angles. Charli stands and brushes sand from her dress, shielding her eyes from the sun as she watches him.

For a moment the three of us move around each other like we’ve done this a hundred times before.

The recognition hits me hard enough that I stop breathing for a second.

EIGHTEEN

Charli

The Breathing Tempo:The music is still the dirge, but something underneath has shifted: note held a beat too long, a rhythm that has begun to breathe.

I watchReeves crouch beside our finished trap, his green eyes fixed on the sand instead of Benjy's proud contraption. Things have definitely shifted between us, although I can't put my finger on how or when.

Or what it means.

I just know whatever it is, it’s easier.

"Mom, look how good it blends in. You can't even tell it's there unless you know where to look."

"It's perfect, baby. You did amazing work."

Reeves finally stands, brushing sand from his hands, and I focus on his strong hands. I always loved his hands. His gaze drifts toward the water, then the dunes behind us.