Page 85 of Reeves

I press my palm flat against the shower wall and breathe.

Six years. Multiple combat deployments. I have held it together under conditions that would break most men.

I cannot hold it together watching Charli Parsons do my laundry.

The cold water hits my shoulders, and I stay under it longer than necessary, until my body gets the message my brain has been sending. When I finally turn it off, the silence feels loud.

I tip my head back and stare at the sky through the gap at the top of the enclosure.

Get it together.

This is not the time to be noticing how she looks leaning over a garden hose. It’s also not the time to be reacting like a twenty-year-old who hasn’t seen a woman in six months.

I tip my head back under the stream and force my attention back to my arms.

"Don't worry about the clothes. They're nothing special. Probably ruined anyway."

"I've handled worse stains than paint over the years."

Her response comes easily, without looking up. She spreads the shirt flat on the cement and hits it with another burst of water.

"Raising Benjy has made me very good at removing paint, mud, grass, juice, and playground grime from clothing."

The words are simple and probably routine for a mom of a young boy, but they carry weight. Five years of scraped knees and spilled drinks and messy dinners. Five years of daily life unfolding without me.

My body tightens, but not from the cold water.

She wrings out both pieces and steps back to examine her work.

"I'll run them through the washer and dryer. The whole process won't take long if you don't mind waiting. You can't drive with them soaking wet, anyway."

"I'm in no rush."

The words come out before I think them through. Charli glances toward the bamboo wall, though she can't see me through it.

"Earlier, you mentioned needing to stop by the docks to see Ridge."

"Yeah, if I don't make it out there today, it won't be the end of the world. I'll just let him know."

Silence stretches between us. Not uncomfortable. Just present.

But I know what I'm doing. I'm choosing to stay longer, not to run toward the nearest excuse to leave. The realization sucker punches me in the gut.

"Alright then. I'm going to go put these in the wash."

Her footsteps move toward the back door. I hear it open and close, then open again.

"I'm leaving clean clothes for you on the bench outside the shower. Towel's on top."

Clean clothes. Of course she has men's clothes lying around. But then I remind myself that it’s none of my business.

My jaw tightens anyway.

"Thanks."

I turn off the water and step out onto the wooden platform. The late afternoon air is warm against my wet skin.

Through the kitchen window, I can see what looks like a half-finished Lego model. Benjy must be working on building a set, but he's nowhere to be found.