He was crying now, sobbing, because it was all too painful to think about—the fact that itwasall his fault; the fact that he’d been so close to home all that time; the fact that his mistake, his stupid, childish mistake, had hurt so much. And it hadn’t just hurt him. No, his stupid, childish mistake had hurt his friends and the town and his aunt and uncle. And it’d hurt his mom. So, so much.
He clamped his mouth shut, trying to hold back his sobs, but he was still crying, still pressing his face into his arm, still trying to hide. Because it was an awful truth—to know that he’d hurt the people he loved so much.
It was an awful truth, and it only made him hate himself all over again.
“Shirley?”
Sounds came from down the hallway. A light knock. Then his mom’s voice, muffled through the door. Then Jake again.
“Hi, Shirley. Can we talk for a bit?”
A door opening. Quiet words whispered. And two sets of footsteps heading his way—one lighter and one heavier, uneven but familiar and almost comforting.
Rye pulled his feet up onto the couch and wrapped his arms tightly around his knees. Jake said a few more words to Rye’s mom, directing her to sit. The couch shifted. Rye didn’t look up. He felt too sick.
His mom’s hand set lightly on his arm, and she squeezed him gently. Then Jake started talking, his voice quiet but clear as he explained everything Rye had told him.
Rye felt an odd sort of detachment from it, and he didn’t really listen to any of the words. He just sat there, hearing the comforting sound of Jake’s voice and feeling the warmth from his mom’s hand on his arm. It didn’t take too long, but well before Jake was done, his mom had moved closer, and by the time Jake had finished, his mom was crying, her arm now wrapped around Rye’s shoulders, holding him tight.
And he was glad, then, for that odd detachment, because it allowed him tonotcry for once.
His mom held him and talked to him, saying simple things like “I love you” and “I’m so sorry” and “I’m so happy you’re home.” And then Rye heard Jake’s voice, and his mom’s again, and he let himself drift away from the words so he could just feel that warmth and comfort surrounding him.
It was probably several minutes later when Jake addressed him.
“Rye, I’m going to give Wayne a call now. Is that still what you want me to do?”
His throat felt tight and raw, but he nodded and said, “Yeah.” And his mom squeezed his shoulders.
Rye opened his eyes, blinking away the blurriness in his vision, and then he looked up for the first time since he’d moved to the couch. Jake sat on one of the cushy chairs positioned on either side of the couch, his cell phone out and his brow furrowed as he scrolled and tapped the screen.
When he glanced up and met Rye’s gaze, his expression softened, and he smiled and gave Rye the most gentle, encouraging nod.
It’ll be okay.
How many times had Jake told him that? He could hear Jake’s voice now, deep and low and kind, even though Jake wasn’t speaking.
It’ll be okay.
A muffled sound came from the phone, and Jake cleared his throat, lifted the phone up to his ear, and lowered his eyes to his free hand. “Hi, Wayne, it’s Jake... Yeah, that rain was wild, huh?... Ah, no, that’s not why I’m calling.” Jake chuckled softly. “Gosh, I hope I can get home later. They just fixed that road, I’d hate it if they had to do it again. No, actually, I’m calling to share some information with you.”
Jake paused and looked back up at Rye. And Rye could see the question in his eyes—the silent ask for permission.
You can say no.
You can always say no.
It’s your choice.
Rye closed his eyes. “Please... tell him for me.” He let himself lean into his mom as Jake coughed lightly to clear his throat.
“So, Rye asked me to give you a call. He was able to tell me a few things about... Yeah, and he wants me to share it with you...” There was a pause, and Rye’s chest burned as he held his breath. “Yeah, makes sense. Sure... Yeah, I’ll see you soon... Okay, Wayne. Bye.”
The urge to go curl up under the blankets on his bed tugged at Rye, but he didn’t move.
There was some quiet rustling from Jake, and then Rye’s mom asked, “Wayne wants to talk to you in person?”
“Yeah, says that’d be best. Easier than on the phone.”
