Chapter 41 Reeves
FORTY-ONE
Reeves
The Empty Street: After the procession passes, the neighborhood goes quiet in a way it wasn't before. What was there is now absence.
The gate closes behind them as she pulls out.
I watch her until her car disappears, listening to the quiet settle back in. It's too quiet, even with the noises of the city everywhere.
I walk back into the bunker and stand there. What the fuck do I do with quiet like this?
Her coffee mug from this morning is still on the counter. The cleaner isn't coming until Thursday afternoon because I thought they were staying until then.
I walk over and pick it up. There’s a faint smear of lipstick along the rim. I turn it once in my hand, run my thumb over it, then set it in the sink and run water over it. I watch the color disappear.
By the time I get to my dad’s place, the sun’s already starting to drop.
I toss my keys on the counter and walk through the house without turning on any lights, moving out to the back patio. The air is thick and still.
I sit, lean forward, rest my forearms on my thighs, and stare out at nothing.
It's been over two hours since they left. That's enough for her to get back and get Benjy settled.
Enough for this to sit.
My phone is on the table beside me. I pick it up, turning it over once before unlocking it.
Her name is still at the top.
I hit call.
It rings twice before it cuts to voicemail. I end the call.
I lower it and stare at the screen for a second before typing.
Please let me explain why I did it and what I found. I'm sorry I did it without you.
The message sends. Three dots appear almost immediately.
I don’t move while I wait. Her reply comes through a second later.
I meant what I said. I’m not doing this again with you. The why, or even what you found out, doesn't matter. It's that you thought you should make decisions for me that matters. I just can't do it, Reeves.
My grip tightens around the phone. And then another text comes in.
We’ll figure out Benjy. What we talked about last night can still work. Not this.
I read it again. Slower this time. As if it might change if I give it another second.
I let out a breath and drop my hand to my lap, the phone still in it.
The instinct hits hard and familiar. Grab my keys. Go after her. Go somewhere. Yell, scream, fight, fuck.
Or leave, go back to the desert, and let that world drown out the pain and fuck-ups here.
Neither of those is the answer. This is different. We are different.
I push out of the chair and step back toward the door.
I stand there, looking at the living room from outside, my hand tightening around the phone until my knuckles go white. Every part of me wants to ignore that, to do what I’ve always done and move anyway.
I don’t.
The naval office smells like recycled air and printer toner. Commander Ellis sits across from me with my file open between us, medical scans spread out across her desk. The fluorescent light catches on her ring when she points to one of the images.
I lean forward slightly, tracking where she’s pointing. The damage looks clean on paper. Clear. Defined. Easier to understand than it ever is when I’m in the middle of it.
“The tear isn’t healing the way we’d like, doing what we're doing,” she says. “There’s strain in the surrounding tissue, but it’s stable. With time, you could get back to full capacity. The question is what you do between now and then.”
Her tone stays even. No edge. No sympathy. Just information laid out in front of me.
“What are my options?”
She sits back a fraction, folding her hands together.
“Three paths forward. First, you stay on the teams with a modified deployment. We limit your exposure, manage the workload, and give the shoulder time to recover properly. It slows you down, but it doesn’t take you out.”
I nod once, tracking that.
“Second, we move you into a leadership track. Training command, advisory, operations planning. You’d be running teams instead of just being on them. Guys with your record don’t plateau, Stone. They move up.”
Not a step back, but not a step forward, either.
“Third,” she continues, “you finish out your current obligation and transition out. Clean break. No obligation to stay.”
The words settle between us.
The room stays quiet for a second after she finishes. The hum of the overhead lights fills the space between us.
“Limited duty would be how long?” I ask.
“Let's focus on healing and revisit in six months to a year,” she says.
I look back down at the scans. My shoulder. Years of work lay out in black and white. There’s no urgency in the decision from her side. No pressure. Just options.
“Leadership track,” I say. “What does that look like?”
She doesn’t hesitate.
“You’d move into more of a leadership role within your team,” she says, tapping the edge of the file. “You’d still deploy. Still be with the teams. You just wouldn’t be the first one through the door anymore. You’d be coordinating, making calls, directing the op as it unfolds.”
I lean back slightly, letting that settle.
She watches me, then continues.
“You’re not out of it. You’re just not taking the same kind of hits.”
My fingers rest against the arm of the chair, tapping once before going still.
“And after that?” I ask.
“If you want something longer term,” she says, “you could look at commissioning. OCS. That would take you out of the enlisted track.”
She slides one of the scans back into the folder, her movements precise. “You’d step into an officer role. More planning, more oversight. Less wear on your body.”
I hold her gaze for a second, then glance back down at the file.
“You’ve already done the hard part,” she adds, quieter now. “This is where a lot of guys land when their bodies start pushing back.”
Guys like me.
A version of this life where I keep everything that matters. The work. The structure. The people. The pace. Just without the part that breaks your body down piece by piece.
I could step into that and not miss a beat.
Virginia Beach comes to mind without effort. The apartment I keep there. Bare walls. A couch I barely use. Cabinets that hold exactly what I need and nothing that goes bad. I’m there just long enough to reset before the next thing pulls me out again.
I know that life. It fits.
I could stay in it. Just not in the same way.
Ellis is still watching me, waiting. She doesn’t rush it.
“I’d have some time before making a decision?” I ask.
“You do,” she says. “But we’ll need direction before your current tour wraps. So you have about two months to figure out what you want to do.”
I nod once more, but I’m not looking at the scans anymore.
Benjy is standing on a chair at the counter, one hand braced against the edge while he tries to crack an egg the way I showed him. His tongue is caught between his teeth, his whole face tight with concentration. He looks up at me when he finally gets it open, like he needs to know he did it right.
That look stays with me.
I rest my forearms on my thighs, leaning forward slightly, my hands hanging loose between my knees. The room feels smaller than it did when I walked in.
I’ve missed five years of that.
Five years I don’t get back.
And the path sitting in front of me, the good one, and the honorable one, still has me leaving. Still has me somewhere else most of the time, fitting a life in between everything that pulls me away from it.
I sit with that for a second longer than I need to.
Then I look up.
“I’ll finish out my current obligation,” I say. “After that, I’m done.”
Ellis doesn’t react right away. She studies me for a second, like she’s making sure I mean it.
“You have two months, Stone. I just said I don't need an answer now.”
I nod once.
“I know. I just know it's time.”
I push back from the chair and stand, the decision settling into place as I do. It's not an easy one, but I know being closer to Benjy, to watch him grow, is where I belong. Even if it's going to be as hard as hell being there and knowing I can't be with her.
“All right, Stone. I’ll keep your file open. You’ve got time to think on it.”
“I don’t need it.”
She studies me for a second, like she’s waiting for me to walk that back, then nods once.
“All right.”
“Thank you, Commander.”
I push back from the chair and stand, sliding it back into place out of habit before turning toward the door. My hand rests on the handle for a second, not because I’m hesitating, but because I’m aware of what I’m walking out with.
I open the door and step outside into the heat.
It hits immediately, dry and constant, settling across my shoulders and the back of my neck.
The sound of the camp carries across the gravel—engines idling, boots moving, voices calling out to each other.
It’s familiar in a way that used to steady me.
Everything in its place. Everything moving the way it’s supposed to.
I stand there for a second, letting it settle in, taking in the same layout, the same rhythm, knowing exactly where I’d be in an hour, in a week.
My phone is already in my hand by the time I start walking. I move off to the side of the path, out of the way of a couple of guys hauling gear between trucks, and pull up Ridge’s number.
He picks up on the second ring.
“Yeah.”
“Hey, fucker. You're up early and cheery, I hear.”
There’s a short pause on the line. “Just calling to insult me?”
“Usually. It's been a month since I saw your ugly mug, and I was missing you.”
"Aww. Little bro. What time is it there?"
"Dinner time. You're just starting your day, huh?"
"Something like that."
I shift my weight, dragging my hand across the back of my neck, feeling the heat settle in again.
“I’m finishing this tour at the end of August.”
“So, a little under a month. Will you be back in Virginia after that, or another tour in the Middle East?”
“I'll have to go back to Virginia and close things up. My obligation ends in November.”
He doesn’t say anything to that, just waits for me to spell it out.
“I’m not re-upping,” I say. “After that, I’m done.”
“You serious?”
“Yeah.”
I watch a truck roll past the edge of the compound, dust kicking up behind it, the same motion I’ve watched a hundred times without thinking about it.
“I think that security job might be the right move,” I add. “With you. With the company. Start of the year, if that works.”
I haven’t said anything about Benjy yet. Not to Ridge. Not to any of them. Things were way too charged after our fight and before I left.
But I will when I get home.
Ridge lets out a short breath that would be a sigh for anyone else, but could be considered a laugh for him.
“Didn’t think I’d ever hear that from you.”
“I didn’t either, if I'm being honest. But it's time.”
After a few more minutes of chatting, I let him know I need to get back to base.
I end the call and lower the phone, letting it hang loose in my hand for a second before sliding it back into my pocket.
The camp keeps moving around me. Orders getting called out. Engines turning over. Men heading where they need to be.
Nothing about it has changed.
My shoulder pulls with the movement. I adjust without thinking, rolling it once before letting my arm hang loose again.
The pain is still there. I fucked up when I tried to fix everything for her instead of with her. Maybe it was never going to work for us.
What we had, what we could have been, sits on my shoulders like a rock, but it doesn't make me want to run. I'm hoping it will get easier, being around her, being close to her, and knowing I can't have her.
But like she said, what's important now is Benjy.
My son.