Chapter 28 Charli
TWENTY-EIGHT
Charli
Grief Carried Differently: The second line does not forget what the dirge held. It carries the same weight — only high and moving instead of low and still.
I jolt awake, half twisted up, my back pressed against his warm, firm body. His arm is draped over my waist.
It takes a second to register that I’m on the couch, Reeves is behind me, and last night actually happened.
I freeze for a moment before carefully easing out from under his arm. My pajamas are on the floor where they landed when we couldn’t get them off fast enough. I grab them and pull them on, my heart beating faster than it should as I glance back at him.
Thankfully, he doesn’t move.
The room is dim, hints of early light just starting to creep in through the windows. I don’t have my watch, but it has to be early. Too early for this to feel real.
I look down at him for a second longer.
He’s completely out, face relaxed, nothing like the man who walked back into my life like a storm and upended everything in less than forty-eight hours.
I turn away before I can think too hard about that and head down the hall, barefoot, quiet. My bedroom door clicks softly shut behind me, and I lean back against it.
What did I do?
I drag a hand through my hair and stare up at the ceiling, forcing myself to think it through instead of spiraling.
I let him come here to meet Benjy. That was it. That was the line.
So how did I end up back on that couch with him like nothing had changed?
My stomach tightens as I absorb everything, whether I want it to or not. Because nothing about us ever really did.
I push off the door and move to the bed, sitting on the edge. The second I stop moving, my body betrays me. The memory hits without warning. His hands. His smell. The way I didn’t hesitate.
Heat floods low in my stomach, sharp and immediate, and I press my thighs together, exhaling slowly as I force it down.
No, I know exactly where that leads. And I’m not opening the door to this cycle with him. That is my past. Not with Benjy sleeping down the hall, unaware that his world is shifting. Not when everything I've built stands to crumble if I keep making decisions with my body instead of my head.
I climb under my covers, even though I won't sleep again. The weight of the blankets and the structure of routine calms me.
I am not twenty-two anymore. I have a practice, a son, and parents of children who count on me. My life runs the way it does because I keep it steady and make clear decisions.
Staring at the ceiling, I force my breathing to slow and shove my thoughts to our routine, my to-do list, things I know how to navigate.
We will get his truck as planned, and then he will leave. We will make a plan for Benjy that doesn't involve middle-of-the-night decisions I can't take back.
My eyelids grow heavy despite my racing thoughts. I must have drifted off, because I'm awakened by the bright morning, and laughter floats through the house. It's Benjy's voice, bright and excited, cutting through my carefully constructed calm.
I step out of my bedroom, running my fingers through my now-brushed hair. The sight of morning sun paints a triangle on the end of the hall where it meets the den.
There's no time to enjoy a cozy Sunday morning. My plan is clear: coffee first, then truck, then—
Then I realize it isn't only Benjy's high, delighted giggle. It's tangling with a deeper rumble I haven't heard in years. My steps falter.
I move down the hallway, pulled toward the living room. I pause at the threshold, my hand gripping the doorframe.
Benjy lies sprawled across Reeves's legs, his small body shaking with laughter as Reeves gently tickles Benjy's side. The blanket I'd left last night is tucked around them both.
They don't notice me right away.
"Again! Do it again!" Benjy's voice bubbles with excitement.
"You're killing me, kid." Reeves's voice holds no edge, just warmth.
Benjy shifts and finally spots me. "Mommy! I found Reeves on the couch!"
A small smile passes between us. Recognition and memory, and a forbidden slip-up we can't indulge in.
"This little rascal jumped on me while I was sleeping," Reeves says, his tone easy and natural, like this is our normal morning routine. Like he belongs here. "He nearly gave me a heart attack."
Benjy beams with pride. "I was super quiet until the last second. Like a ninja."
My son's body language tells me everything. There's no hesitation or awkwardness. He has complete comfort with this man he barely knows, the man who contributed half of the DNA that makes him who he is.
"Morning," I finally manage, the word coming out too controlled.
Reeves holds my gaze. I see it all in a flash: last night, the tangled limbs, the whispered words.
I break first, turning away. "I'll start breakfast. You’d better like chocolate chip pancakes, Reeves. That's what we always have on Sunday morning."
In the kitchen, I grip the edge of the counter. My routine will anchor me. That's what I keep telling myself. I put coffee grounds into the filter, water into the reservoir, and pull my mug from the cabinet.
As soon as I close the cabinet door, I open it again to get a second mug, remembering he likes his coffee with a splash of creamer and no sugar.
Even the routine pulls him in. The coffee machine gurgles to life.
"Need help?"
I jump, turning my head to find Reeves in the doorway, watching me. Benjy isn't with him. I turn back to the coffee maker, willing it to finish the pot, heat rising up my neck.
"God, don't sneak up on me like that," I say without looking at him.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Was hoping you could put me to work since Benjy abandoned me to color."
Reeves steps deeper into the kitchen. He fills the space behind me. I keep my back to him, focusing on the ever-important job of watching coffee percolate.
"I told Benjy I'd help with breakfast," he says, voice low enough that it wouldn't carry to the living room.
I nod, not trusting my voice. The coffee machine hums steadily, predictable and safe. Unlike the man behind me.
I feel him before I see him move. The slight shift in air pressure, the warmth radiating from his body. Then his hand rests on my waist as he pulls me back against him, his breath hot against my neck.
"I didn't like waking up without you," he murmurs, lips brushing the sensitive spot below my ear.
My body betrays me instantly. Goosebumps break along my arms, my breath catching as heat burrows low in my belly. My body remembers him. That’s the problem.
I allow myself half a second. Just long enough to feel his heartbeat against my back, before I have to do what I know I should.
"Stop." I push away, turning to face him. "Benjy is right there."
The words come out sharper than necessary, a knife's edge of fear beneath them. But they exploded out because I didn't want to accept the reality that he can't do that.
That we can't do that.
Reeves doesn't flinch. His eyes soften instead, one corner of his mouth lifting. He steps back, giving me space, but his eyes never leave mine.
"Just one kiss." His voice is light, almost teasing, but the want underneath is unmistakable. "One kiss and I'll be a perfect gentleman all morning. Scout's honor."
I should say no. I know exactly where this leads. Instead, I step forward, because if I comply, maybe he will honor his promise.
And, well, if I'm completely honest, I want just one more kiss…
His mouth finds mine instantly. There's nothing gentle about this kiss. His hands cup my face, thumbs pressing into my jawline. My fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer.
The pressure builds as my body instinctively arches into his, physiological need taking over where logic fails.
Soft footsteps pad towards us on the other side of the wall.
I break away first. Reeves steps back smoothly, reaching for the red mug I'd pulled down for him.
"Mom, can I have chocolate milk with my pancakes, please?" Benjy appears in the doorway, his hair sticking up on one side.
I turn to the refrigerator, grateful for the cool air on my flushed face. "Sure, buddy."
"Reeves said he'd make my pancakes look like boats," Benjy announces, climbing onto a stool at the counter.
Reeves grins. "I said I'd try. No promises on how they'll look."
I watch them, these two parts of my life that were never meant to overlap. I never imagined in a million years I'd be sharing our Sunday chocolate chip pancakes with Reeves Stone.
The coffee machine beeps, startling me back to reality.
"We can head to the tow yard after," I say, reaching for reality to pull us out of this fantasy. I need solid ground.
"We can head out after I finish making these boats," Reeves says, sliding pancake batter onto the griddle and then shaping it with a butter knife. "I'll give you the address as soon as I can grab it off my phone."
After a feeble but admirable attempt at pirate ship-shaped pancakes, he finally retires from the griddle and lets me finish cooking the batter.
He checks his phone while handing Benjy the plate of three Rorschach-esque pancakes with his free hand. The domestic ease of his movements in my kitchen is too natural, too right.
He gives me the address, and I pull it up on my Waze app.
"It's not far," I say, glancing up. "Ten minutes, tops."
Benjy swallows a mouthful of syrup-soaked pancake. "After we get Reeves's truck, can we still go to the aquarium? You promised."
My heart sinks. The aquarium. I completely forgot he was supposed to go today. Between Reeves staying overnight and everything that followed, it completely slipped my mind.
"The aquarium?" Reeves looks up, curious.
"Yeah, his friend, Paolo, invited him to go today. I need to follow up with his mom."
I realize the aquarium will save all of us. Benjy will be gone, so there will be no begging from him and no reason to stay for Reeves.
Benjy chatters from the back seat about stingrays and sharks, filling the awkward silence between Reeves and me. Every time we catch each other's eye, I look away first. Every accidental brush of hands when he points to a turn feels electric.
I focus on the road, on the practical task ahead. Reeves will get his truck and leave. He'll drive back to New Orleans, and we'll figure out visitation schedules and support payments later.
From a distance.
With clear boundaries.
The tow yard comes into view faster than I expect. My hands tighten on the steering wheel.
"Will they let me see the inside of your truck?" Benjy asks Reeves as we pull into the gravel lot.
"I don't see why not. But you have to stay with me."
"Can I ride back with you? Please?" Benjy leans forward against his seatbelt, his excitement palpable.
"Reeves probably needs to get on the road," I say automatically.
Reeves shrugs. "Your house is only ten minutes back. He could totally ride with me there, if that works for you."
The reasonable suggestion makes my shoulders tense. Of course he would offer that.
"I can put my booster in his truck," Benjy adds helpfully.
I park next to the office, my carefully ordered morning slipping through my fingers with each second.
"That's fine," I say, the word coming out curtly, so I add a weak smile.
Ten minutes later, I watch them pull away in Reeves's massive black Hummer, Benjy waving excitedly from the back seat. I follow behind in my practical SUV, alone with thoughts I'd prefer to avoid.
My phone rings through the car speakers, startling me. God, I'm jumpy today
Reeves's name lights up the display, but when I answer, it's Benjy's voice that bursts through the speakers.
"Mom! Can we stop at Skyview Park? Reeves said there might be time before the aquarium but I should ask you first."
I check the clock. The park is directly on our route, and Brenda and Paolo aren't picking him up for another hour. Still, this wasn't part of the plan. Another deviation. Another crack in the routine.
"Please?" The hope in his voice tugs at me.
"Twenty minutes," I say firmly. "That's all we have because I want to get your changed and fill up your water bottle before Paolo gets there. You don't want to be late for him, do you?"
Benjy whoops with such pure joy that I can't help smiling. I'm sure there is a no in there, because he's been excited about the aquarium since Paolo invited him last week. But showing Reeves his favorite things at the playground is taking precedence at the moment.
I hear Reeves's deeper voice in the background, but can't make out his words.
Realizing this is actually a good place to do the hand-off, I'm grateful for the idea. Now, Reeves doesn't have to come all the way back to the house.
About three minutes later, I turn into Skyview's lot, and Reeves's massive black Hummer pulls in right behind me. Benjy is already scrambling down from the back seat by the time I get out. He waits impatiently at the playground entrance, bouncing on his toes.
"Twenty minutes," I remind him, looking at my watch.
He nods and takes off toward the climbing structure, his small body quick and sure.
Reeves falls into step beside me as I follow at a slower pace. Our shoulders nearly touch as we walk. The morning sun catches on his profile, highlighting the sharp angle of his jaw and the dimple in his chin.
"You don't have to stay," I say, nodding toward the playground. "I think he wanted you to see him on the monkey bars, but he's already off to the slide, so you’re safe to go.”
Reeves shakes his head. "I like watching him play. I don't have anything else to do."
His voice is casual, but his eyes stay fixed on Benjy, tracking his movements across the playground.
"Didn't you need to meet Ridge at the docks?"
"I let him know I was stuck here. I told him I would let him know when I'll be back. He's fine. Definitely not rushing back for him."
"Hmm. Okay."
That is quite different from what he said yesterday, before the paint fiasco. Then, he needed to get back for that meeting. Now he doesn’t seem in a hurry at all.
We settle onto a bench with a clear view. The silence between us isn't exactly comfortable, but it's not strained either. Just two parents watching their son play at the playground on a regular Sunday morning.
"He loves coming here. He's still not big enough for some of the bigger things, but that doesn't stop him," I say finally.
Reeves's mouth curves slightly. "I like that drive."
I watch him watching Benjy. He instinctively tracks Benjy’s every move. He's alert but relaxed, protective without hovering.
Benjy waves from the top of the slide, and both of us automatically raise our hands to wave back.
The realization punches me. I'm in deep shit. There is no doubt these two are connected, and there's no stopping the momentum.
My hunch is he’s not going anywhere.
And I’m not nearly as in control of this as I thought.