Page 89 of Reeves

I look over to see Reeves walking into the yard with two plastic bags and what looks like a new drill. The bags hang from his hands like they weigh nothing, plastic stretched tight against his fingers.

“Found everything I think we might need,” he calls out. “If a bracket and some screws don’t do the job, I’ll go back for some wood.”

“That was fast.”

Benjy spots him and bolts across the yard.

“You’re back! Come see my pirate ship!” he shouts.

He crashes into Reeves at full speed, wrapping his arms around Reeves’s knees without slowing down. The impact rocks Reeves back a step, but he steadies himself easily, one hand coming down to Benjy’s shoulder.

“Whoa there, pirate captain,” Reeves says. “Let me put this stuff down first.”

Benjy releases him but grabs his free hand instead, tugging toward the oak tree.

“Come on. Let’s fix the wobbly part. Can I help you? I love fixing things.”

I stay beside the porch railing, towel still in my hands, watching as Benjy drags him across the yard without giving him time to answer half the questions he’s firing at him. The plastic hardware bag swings from Reeves’s grip as he adjusts it, his other hand already steadying Benjy when he stumbles.

They reach the base of the oak tree, and Benjy immediately starts climbing. Reeves follows more slowly, testing each rung before he shifts his weight. His shirt pulls tight across his back when he reaches, the movement controlled, deliberate.

Halfway up the ladder, he winces and readjusts his grip.

It’s subtle, the kind of movement most people wouldn’t notice. But I’ve been watching him favor that shoulder since yesterday. The way he reaches across his body instead of lifting his arm straight up. The careful way he lowers himself when he climbs.

I walk over to the treehouse and stand under it, close enough to see the way he braces himself without thinking about it.

“This board here,” Reeves says, pointing to the loose plank once they reach the platform. “It rocks when you step on it.”

“Yeah. That one,” Benjy says. “What do you think happened?”

“Screws work loose over time. That might be all it is. But if the board’s warped, we will have to replace it. Let’s see if this will fix it first.”

“How will we fix it?”

Reeves pulls a new electric screwdriver from the bag and tears open the box. The low whir cuts through Benjy’s chatter as he tests it once, then lines it up without hesitation. When he lifts it, his right shoulder tightens for a second before he smooths the movement out again.

My first instinct is to tell him to stop before he makes it worse.

But he doesn’t hesitate. He adjusts his grip and keeps going like it doesn’t matter.

Benjy chats about everything under the sun while Reeves shows him what he’s doing and lets him “help” hold things while he secures them.

“See that?” he says, tapping the board with his knuckles. “That’s just going to keep getting looser and looser if we don’t put at least another screw in it.”

Benjy, on his belly, leans his head down the ladder, studying it seriously. “Is it broken?”

“No, not yet. Just loose.”

Reeves drives two longer screws through the rung and into the tree trunk, tightening them until the board sits flush and solid. The drill stays steady in his hand the entire time, controlled even when his shoulder pulls tight again.

“Alright,” he says, stepping back down to the ground and climbing up again to test both spots. The ladder holds steady beneath his weight. The platform board doesn’t move.

“All set.” Reeves presses his foot down on the repaired plank one more time. “No more wobbling.”

Benjy bounces slightly on the ladder to test it himself.

“Careful,” Reeves says automatically, one hand coming up to steady the rung. “You’re still high up, so you always need to hold on with two hands and move slowly.”