Page 97 of Reeves

For a second, I just stare at him.

The memory hits fast. His backyard. The grill. His voice carrying over music drifting out of the house while he argued with me about how to build the perfect burger.

I drag my attention back to him. To the way he’s watching me now, like he’s not entirely sure how that landed.

“Yeah,” I say. “I remember.”

“If the offer still stands.” His gaze flicks toward the water, then back to me. “I could stay. Crash on your sofa.”

“Of course. And I know Benjy will be over the moon. It’ll be nice.” The old version of me would have been snarkier and said whatever I had to keep him at a distance. I don’t.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “It would.” Then, like he’s giving me a way out, “But if this is weird for you, I can totally go back to the city and come back in the morning. I don’t want to put y’all out.”

“No, it’s fine,” I say, a little too fast. “We’ll just need to stop at Mickey’s on the way home. I don’t have anything for burgers.”

Benjy comes running back toward us, his bucket swinging wildly at his side. Reeves pulls out his phone and types quickly. I don’t ask what he’s canceling.

He pushes to his feet and offers me his hand.

I take it.

His fingers close around mine, firm and warm, and he pulls me up in one smooth motion. The shift brings me closer than I expect, my balance catching against him for half a second before I straighten.

It’s nothing. It’s barely anything.

But my body registers it anyway. The solid line of him, the heat of his skin, the familiar strength in his grip.

He lets go almost immediately, like he felt it too, and rolls his right shoulder as he steps back.

He doesn’t say anything.

Neither do I.

I almost ask, but then I stop myself. The last thing I need to do is start noticing things about him again.

“Guess what, Benjy,” I say.

He skids to a stop in front of us.

“Reeves is making his famous burgers tonight.”

"Yay! I love famous burgers!"

He takes off. Reeves falls into step beside me as we follow.

We leave the beach as the sun starts dipping lower, painting everything in warm gold light. The air has that late afternoon coolness creeping in, the kind that makes you want to be somewhere cozy with good food and familiar voices.

"We'll need to walk on the sidewalk on the street instead of the path," I tell Reeves as we reach the crosswalk. "The store is halfway between here and the house."

I notice some light blue flecks of paint that didn't come out on the shoulder of his shirt. The sight of it sends a jolt of warmth and joy through me. An outward sign of him taking care of his son, even if it's fleeting.

"Sounds perfect."

Benjy skips ahead of us, turning around every few steps to walk backward while he talks.

"Do they have those hamburger buns with the sesame seeds? And can we get the thick bacon? PopPop says thick bacon makes a hamburger."

"We'll see what they have, baby."