Page 88 of Reeves

I start to reach for my keys before remembering they aren’t with me. They’re sitting in the center console of my truck. Which is still parked at the beach.

I scrub a hand over the back of my neck. “That’s right. I left my keys in the truck.”

“At the beach?” Charli asks.

“Yeah. I didn't want them to get sandy. I have an app on my phone to lock and unlock the truck, so they're fine. I'll just walk over there and get my truck and head to the store.”

Charli considers that for a moment, then gestures toward the street beyond the yard. “The hardware store is right up the road.You could walk there and back in ten minutes. We can grab your truck later if you want.”

I glance toward the road, doing the mental math. “You think it’s okay sitting there like that?”

She smiles, the corner of her mouth tipping up in quiet amusement. “Reeves, it’s the middle of the afternoon in Bay St. Louis. Nobody’s stealing your truck.”

I nod slowly. “Fair enough.”

She points toward the corner. “Go up this street and turn left at the main road. The store’s about half a block down.”

“Got it.”

I grab my wallet and phone from the table by the back door and head toward the gate.

“You sure about this?” Charli asks.

I look back at her.

“It’s just a hardware store run.”

But as I push the gate open and step out onto the sidewalk, I know that isn’t the whole truth.

Every time I decide to stay a little longer, to fix something around this place or show up for Benjy the way he expects me to, another thread ties me to a life that was never supposed to include me.

TWENTY

Charli

The Swell:As the procession passes a place the deceased loved, the music grows louder without anyone deciding it should.

My eyes drifttoward the oak tree where Benjy likes to spend most of his time these days. One of the ladder rungs shifts slightly when you climb it. I’ve noticed it myself when I go up to check on him, but it’s one of those things that slips to the bottom of the to-do list because it’s not really a problem.

Yet.

Reeves spotted it immediately.

Not just the loose rung. The way it could give under the wrong weight. The exact place a hand might miss.

I think about the deli, how fast he moved when that ladder went. I hadn’t even registered the danger before he was already there.

It’s not a one-off. It’s how he moves through the world now.

I pick up the rubber balls scattered across the yard and drop them into the plastic bin beside the deck. A few toy trucks follow, then the plastic shovel Benjy left in the grass.

“Mommy. Look at my coloring,” Benjy says as he scurries down the tree. He runs over to me, proudly showing off his work.

He’s only here for a few days.

That’s what I keep telling myself. Reeves has orders. He deploys next week. Whatever connection he’s building with Benjy, whatever easy rhythm we fell into this afternoon, it’s temporary.

The metal latch on the gate rattles.