Page 94 of Reeves

A cluster of sand crabs skitters across the wet sand. He takes off after them, arms out, already shouting.

“Reeves! They’re everywhere!”

The trap is forgotten in an instant. I watch him chase them along the waterline, all energy and instinct, like the whole stretch of beach belongs to him.

For a minute, the truck drops out of the equation, too.

He laughs when one disappears into a hole, pivots, and goes after another without thinking twice about it.

I stand there, tracking him, and my attention is captured for a different reason.

Charli sits a few feet away with her arms wrapped around her knees, watching him. The wind shifts her hair across her shoulder, lifting it just enough to expose the curve of her neck before it falls back into place. Sand clings to her calves, and my eyes catch on the line of her legs before I drag them away.

She hasn’t changed.

Or maybe she has, and I just didn’t realize how much until now.

There’s a quiet focus to the way she watches him, like the rest of the world falls out of frame when Benjy’s in it. It pulls my attention off the water and back to her, where it sticks longer than it should.

After a moment, she pushes to her feet and walks over, stopping close enough that our shoulders nearly line up.

Up close, the salt on her skin mixes with the warmth coming off her, close enough that it prickles under mine before I can shut it down. My body registers it first, a low, immediate awareness that has nothing to do with the situation and everything to do with her being right here.

“You’re sure the tow yard is already closed?”

“Yeah.” I glance toward Benjy, then back at her. “No after-hours access. Yard’s locked up.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I’m sure they’re still towing cars. They just don’t want anyone there dealing with it.” I drag a hand through my hair. “I tried.”

She exhales, shaking her head, then looks back out toward the water.

“You said you’ve got someone coming to get you?”

“One of our drivers. Keller’s lining it up for me.”

Her gaze shifts back to me and holds, steady and assessing, like she’s working through something she hasn’t decided whether to say.

“So you’re going to leave, drive back to New Orleans tonight, and then turn around and come back here in the morning?”

“What else can I do?”

Benjy jogs back over, breathing hard.

“Are you leaving now?”

There’s no accusation in it, just curiosity, but the way he’s looking at me makes me want to assure him I’ll never leave.

But I know I can’t make that assurance, and that breaks my heart.

“Not yet,” I tell him. “My ride’s still on the way.”

His whole face brightens. “Good. We still have time to play.”

He’s already turning back toward the water before I can say anything else.

I watch him go, but I’m aware of her again immediately. Ofhow close she’s standing. Of the fact that neither of us has moved to create space.