Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
Reeves
The Break: The cut arrives without warning and without ceremony. It is abrupt. It is unmistakable. Nothing sounds the same after it.
I carry the heavier grocery bags in my left hand through Charli's front door while she manages the lighter ones.
The house smells the same as it did this morning when I used her shower. The scent is clean and warm, and one I never want to let go.
It isn’t perfume or candles. It’s her, the way her space exists.
"Benjy, go wash your hands before you start handling food," Charli calls as she sets her bags on the kitchen counter.
"Can I help with the burgers?"
"After you wash up. Use soap."
He disappears down the hallway, and I start pulling items from the bags without being asked. Ground beef first, then the buns and cheese. My hands move automatically, sorting through everything we bought.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
I didn't plan to be standing in her kitchen, seasoning hamburger meat like this was the most normal thing in the world.
But here I am. And it feels normal.
I press the patties onto a plate covered with a paper towel and head outside to the small patio where her grill sits covered under a blue tarp. The propane tank feels solid when I check the connection. I turn the gas on and light the burners, adjusting the flame until it burns steady and even.
The grill needs a few minutes to heat up, so I go back inside for the rest of the food. Charli has the frozen fries spread on a baking sheet, ready for the oven.
"How long do those need?"
"Twenty minutes. Maybe twenty-five if you want them extra crispy."
I nod and head back outside with the meat. Heat rises the second I lift the lid.
Benjy appears beside me as I uncover the plate.
"Why do you make them flat like that?"
"They cook more evenly."
"How do you know when to flip them?"
I place the first burger on the grill. "When the edges start to look cooked, and it doesn't stick."
He nods like he's committing it to memory.
The burgers hit the grates with a sharp sizzle, and I close the lid.
"Can I stand here and watch?"
"Sure. But step back."
He moves maybe six inches.
"More than that, buddy."
I guide him back with my hand on his shoulder, keeping him out of reach of the heat.
"Why?"
"Because hot grease hurts."
Grease pops inside the grill. My arm comes up automatically, blocking him.
I don't think about it. I move.
When I glance down to check him, I catch Charli in the doorway.
She's holding the bag of buns, but she's not moving. Just watching.
Benjy traces his finger along my forearm. "What's that?"
I look down. He's pointing at the ink.
"Tattoos."
He leans closer, studying them.
"Did that hurt?"
"Some of them did."
"Why did you get so many?"
I flip a burger, buying myself a second.
"Started with one I got with my brothers. Then more with guys I served with."
"Why?"
I shrug. "You remember things. Or you just keep going."
He nods like that makes perfect sense.
"They look cool."
I huff out a quiet laugh. "Not something you need to worry about anytime soon."
"Okay."
He studies them another second. "Do you have a favorite?"
My hand shifts on the spatula.
"Yeah. The one I got with my brothers."
"Where is it?"
I pull up my sleeve and show him the word STONE on my bicep.
"Cool."
Charli moves past me toward the table, close enough that I catch the scent of her shampoo. It hits me before I can shut it down. Same as before. Same as her.
I force my attention back to the grill, but I feel her behind me now. Moving. Setting things down. The quiet rhythm of it.
"Okay, buddy. Time to flip them."
Benjy steps closer. I pick him up with one arm and guide his hand with the spatula.
"Lift it first. Make sure it's not sticking."
He does exactly what I showed him, focused in a way that feels too familiar.
"Good job."
His smile reaches in and grabs me.
Behind me, Charli moves around the table. Plates. Napkins. Condiments. I track every movement without meaning to.
I can’t help but notice the brush of fabric when she leans past me to set the ketchup down, either. Or the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she's concentrating.
I hold the spatula a second longer than necessary before flipping the last burger because I need anything to ground me.
Focus.
I've been around plenty of women in the past six years. Beautiful women. Available women. None of them affected my focus the way two days around Charli has.
"Are they almost done?" Benjy asks.
"Another minute or two."
I close the grill lid again and step back, forcing myself to look away from the table where Charli is slicing tomatoes.
The kid doesn't know me from any other stranger, but he trusts me to teach him things. To show up when I say I will. To flip burgers the right way.
I open the grill again and press the center of each patty with the spatula. The juices run clear.
"Benjy," I whisper to him, like we have a secret. "Tell your mom the burgers are ready."
"Mom! Dinner's ready!"
Charli glances up from the tomatoes. "Bring the plate over, Reeves, when you're ready. I'm almost done with the tomato, and everything else is set."
I load the burgers onto the plate she left on the side table, then carry it to where she's finished setting up everything else. She has cooked bacon on a plate, chips in a bowl, and poured iced tea. The condiments lined up like she's done this a thousand times.
Which she probably has. Just not with me.
"Smells good." She takes the platter and sets it in the center of the table.
"Thanks."
She looks at me for a second, then turns to Benjy. "Wash your hands again before we eat."
"I already did."
"You've been touching the grill tools. Go."
He sighs but heads inside without arguing.
That leaves Charli and me alone on the patio. The silence stretches, but it's not uncomfortable. Just loaded.
I should comment on her table-setting abilities, or the weather. Thank her for letting me stay. Apologize for disrupting her routine. Ask what happens next.
Instead, I pull out a chair and sit down.
Benjy returns from washing his hands just as Charli takes a seat in the chair across from me. The evening light casts everything in warm gold.
"Can I have two burgers?" Benjy climbs onto his chair, eyeing the platter.
"One first. See if you're still hungry after that."
He nods and reaches for the biggest patty. I watch him stack it with cheese, pickles, and way too much ketchup.
"So, let's talk about tomorrow." He bounces in his seat. "What should we fix tomorrow?"
Tomorrow.
The word hangs in the air between us. I keep my expression neutral, but something shifts.
Charli laughs, but I can tell she’s holding back, protecting him from the inevitable. "Benjy, Reeves won't be here forever. Remember, he has to go back to work soon."
The reminder hits harder than it should. I take another bite of my burger and focus on chewing, but the lump in my throat makes the burger hard to swallow. I take a big swig of sweet tea.
"How many more days do you have?" Benjy asks.
"Not many, unfortunately."
He frowns, processing this. "But you'll come back after work, right?"
The question lands like a punch. I glance at Charli, but she's focused on cutting her burger into smaller pieces.
"I'd like that, but we'll have to see. I don't come back here very often."
It's the safest answer I can give. The most honest one, too.
After dinner, Benjy slides off his chair and tugs on my sleeve. He barely ate two-thirds of his burger. The idea of two is even more hilarious now, seeing how much food he can put down.
"Can I show you something?"
I glance at the sky. We have maybe twenty minutes of dusk light left before it goes black. I look to Charli before I answer. She nods.
"Sure."
Charli starts stacking plates. "I'll clean up. You two go ahead."
We walk back out to the treehouse. He climbs up and I follow, stopping at the top of the ladder looking in. He shows me all of the coloring sheets he has taped up on his walls, describing each one.
I take out my phone and use the flashlight to look at each one as he goes through them. I love getting to see some of the things he's created before I even knew he existed.
After we go through each of the ninety-nine coloring sheets he has, I tell him we better head back to the house. By now it's completely dark.
When we walk in, I hear the dishwasher running along with the water.
"Time for bed, buddy." Charli's voice carries from the kitchen where she's finishing the dishes.
Benjy's head pops out of the treehouse opening. "Can Reeves read me a story first?"
The request catches me off guard. I stand there stunned like a deer in headlights, not even sure I can read to a child. I used to be terrified of being called on in class to read aloud.
Charli appears in the kitchen doorway, drying her hands with a towel. She looks at me, then at Benjy.
"If he wants to."
She's giving me the choice. I can't say no.
"Sure. I can read you a story."
Benjy scrambles down the hall, disappearing into a room. "Come on! I have the best helicopter book."
He runs back to me when I don't move in the three seconds, grabs my hand, and pulls me toward the back of the house. His palm is warm against mine, small fingers gripping tight like he's worried I might change my mind.
Inside, the hallway is narrow. Pictures line the walls. Most of them show Benjy at different ages. Some include Charli's parents.
None includes me.
Benjy's room is at the end of the hall. The door is painted blue with white trim. He puffs up proudly for me to see his room.
The space is clean but lived in. There's a twin bed with navy sheets, shelves full of books and toy trucks, and a nightlight shaped like a frog plugged into the wall near his pillow.
"This one." He pulls a thick book from the shelf and hands it to me. "It's the one I wanted to show you yesterday. It's all about helicopters."
I take the book and look at the cover. I think I've been saved by the sheer fact that reading actually means flipping the pages and looking at different photos. There's very little copy.
Benjy climbs into bed and pulls the covers up to his earlobes. He pats the edge of the mattress. "You sit here."
I lower myself onto the narrow space he indicated, the bed creaking slightly under my weight.
As I continue to point out the different Chinooks and cargo helicopters, Benjy's breathing grows slower. His eyelids flutter, fighting sleep. By around the tenth page, his head has tilted to one side.
He's falling asleep.
I keep going anyway, lowering my voice to match his drowsy state. The rhythm of reading with him, watching him fade to sleep, feels right. Natural, even.
Movement in the doorway catches my peripheral vision. Charli stands there, leaning against the frame. She's not interrupting, just watching.
How long has she been there?
I finish the chapter and close the book quietly. Benjy's eyes have closed completely. His breathing is deep and even.
Our eyes meet briefly over Benjy's head. She doesn't say anything, but something passes between us. She flips off the overhead light, never breaking eye contact.
The room dims to just the emerald glow from the frog-shaped light.
I was never supposed to be sitting on my son's bed looking at military copters while his mother watched from the doorway. This kind of domestic scene belongs to other men. Men who stay.
But here I am.
Standing carefully to avoid waking him, I place the book on his nightstand. The nightlight casts soft green markings across his face.
He looks peaceful. Safe.
Charli steps back as I move into the hallway. She pulls Benjy's door mostly closed, leaving it cracked just enough to hear if he calls out.
We stand there in the narrow space, not speaking for a moment.
"He went down easy tonight." Her voice is barely above a whisper.
"The helicopter book probably helped."
She nods, but she's still looking at me. "You're good with him."
My grip tightens slightly at my side. I hold her gaze a second longer, then drop it, like that might take the weight out of what she just said.
Charli shifts her weight, and the movement brings her a step closer. Close enough that I catch the faint scent of her soap again. Without thinking about it, I inhale it deeply and close my eyes for a moment, holding on to all of the feelings that are attached to it.
I look back up.
Her eyes flick to my mouth and then back again so fast I almost miss it.
The space between us is thinner now. Charged.
For a second, neither of us moves.
I’m close enough to see the way her breath inflates the little dip at the base of his neck. Close enough that it would take nothing to close the distance.
My hand flexes at my side.
I’m close enough to feel the heat coming off her. If I shift even a fraction, I’d brush her.
Staying here tonight might be the most dangerous decision I’ve made in years.
Because standing in her hallway, looking at her like this, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop what's coming.