Page 80 of Reeves

"I mean, I haven't eaten a thing today," Reeves admits.

The opening is small but real. I take it carefully.

"There's a deli about a block up from the beach path. It's the one Benjy's talking about. Nothing fancy, but it does make a mean milkshake."

I keep my voice casual. I'm not sure if I want to push him away or try to hold him back. But I don't want Benjy to feel this abrupt leaving. Maybe sitting down for lunch can ease us into a natural end to our morning.

"It's quick if you're worried about time," I add.

Reeves glances toward the dunes where the path leads back to the street. Then at Benjy, who's watching him with hopeful green eyes that mirror his own.

"That sounds perfect. I'd love that. And I'd like your recommendation for the best milkshake for the road, Benjy. Deal?"

"Deal.” Benjy grins.

Reeves's mouth quirks up slightly. "Alright. Lunch and a milkshake it is. Then I'll probably have to take off after that."

I start gathering our beach bag, giving myself something to do with my hands. The disappointment blooms into a familiar ache.

Reeves follows as we head toward the path. His stride matches ours, which, with Benjy, is considerably slower than his normal speed.

The beach path winds through tall grass that whispers against our legs. Benjy bounds ahead, then circles back to us every few yards with new ideas.

Reeves walks beside me, hands loose at his sides, but eyes tracking Benjy's movements automatically.

"My favorite ice cream is Superman. What's yours?" Benjy asks Reeves.

"Superman, huh? I've never heard of that. Based on the name alone, it sounds interesting. Maybe it will be my new favorite."

"It's blue and red and yellow and delicious."

"That explains it."

"So what's your favorite? Before you try Superman."

"I'll have to go with Rocky Road. If you love marshmallows like I do, and a little crunch, it's perfection." Reeves puts his fingers and thumb to his mouth and makes a chef's kissing motion.

Benjy processes this seriously, nodding. "That sounds pretty good. I've never tried that."

Their conversation flows easily while I listen, watching Reeves slip back into easy conversation with him. It's almost like someone else invaded his body back there, and now he's back.

He's good with him. Naturally good.

We reach the crosswalk where the beach path meets Harbor Street. Cars drift past in the sleepy midday rhythm of a small coastal town.

I start to reach for Benjy's hand out of habit, but he's already stepped toward Reeves.

"How many cheeses do you like on your grilled cheese?"

Benjy's small fingers curl around Reeves's hand as he continues talking. The gesture happens so simply that Benjy doesn't even pause in his peppering of questions.

Reeves glances down at their joined hands, and a softness crosses his face. It passes quickly, but I catch it. His fingers tighten around Benjy’s, steady and sure, the muscles in his forearm shifting as he guides him toward the crosswalk.

"I'm going to go with three. Too much, and it's too heavy. Not enough, and the bread overwhelms."

They step into the street together, and I have to deliberately fight tears that well up in my eyes. I’ve always hoped for someone to come into our lives to be this for Benjy. I never imagined it could be Reeves.

My feet stay planted on the curb for a beat too long. His hand is still wrapped around Benjy’s when he glances back at me.