The suggestion was so thoughtful that Jake couldn’t answer right away. He just stared at Rye, who was now looking up at him, his bright eyes hopeful and understanding. Jake blinked and nodded, clearing his throat. “That sounds amazing,” he said. “I’d love that. Um, tomorrow? Should I bring anything?”
They started walking again, and Rye was quiet for a moment. Then a smile burst onto his face.
“Definitely cookies! You can bring cookies. Do you have more of Krista’s?”
“I do.”
“Chocolate chip?”
“Yeah. And I think... snickerdoodles. Oatmeal raisin probably too.”
“Chocolate chip.”
Jake laughed. “You got it.”
They continued on down the beach silently for a few minutes. Jake watched his own feet landing in the sand, and he hadn’t even realized that other... disconnect. When was the last time he’d walked on the beach without shoes on? Not for years, he thought. Not since maybe a year after the accident, when he’dmoved to Rocky Cove. He’d tried once or twice then, but the uneven ground and the way the sand shifted under his weight had made him feel unsteady.
And since he didn’t trust his leg . . .
From next to him, Rye suddenly said, “Oh...”
Jake waited as they kept walking, but Rye’s steps had slowed even more. “Hmm?” he prompted after another few feet.
“Does that mean... you haven’t gone in the water, either?”
“Oh, um, yeah, but—” He stopped abruptly, his shoes scuffing into the sand, and he closed his eyes. He couldn’t have planned the opportunity better if he’d tried, and he was pretty sure he would have just continued avoiding otherwise. He heard Rye stop just in front of him.
“Are you okay?”
“Uh, yeah, just...” Jake groaned and forced his eyes back open, but instead of looking at Rye, he let his gaze drift out to the ocean, vast and beautiful and blue, sparkling with sunlight. His stomach lurched. “I told you about my accident, right?”
He looked over to see Rye nod, his expression now serious and concerned. Jake’s stomach churned again.
“After that, it’s been hard to, um... I haven’t been back out on a boat since, and if I go into the water more than just a few inches, more than just, uh, the waves along the shore, if it gets any deeper... I... get, um...”
“Oh,” Rye breathed, his eyes growing wide with understanding.
“It’s okay,” Jake said quickly. He huffed a small laugh, though there was no humor in it. “I mean, I wish it was different, but it’s...”
“But you love the ocean,” Rye said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
With a nod, Jake said, “Yeah, I do. But it’s... it’s okay, you know. I still get to... see it.” Almost immediately, he shook his head, and at the same time, Rye’s expression tightened.
“You get scared... like me?” Rye asked quietly, and before Jake could answer, he continued. “Where it’s painful, and your chest hurts and... you can’t move?”
Jake inhaled sharply, and he almost didn’t want to admit that it was true, but he couldn’t lie. “Yeah.”
“I’m . . . sorry.”
“My therapist—”
“You have a therapist?” Rye cut in, and Jake nodded.
“Just recently, yeah, um, the last few months,” Jake explained. He tilted his head in the direction they’d been walking, and they started back down the beach, Jake’s gait slow and maybe a little more uneven now than it had been earlier.
“My mom wanted me to see someone,” Rye said carefully. “She tried two different people with meetings on the computer and then one person who came to our house. They were all recommended by my social worker. But I... um, can’t... really talk. Except to you. And, um, they tried, but it was too stressful and I wasn’t ready and it... got really bad. I’m not sure... when I will be ready.” With a shuddering breath, Rye added, “I’m so glad I can talk to you.”
“Ah, me too.” Jake hesitated again, but when he glanced back out to the sea, he felt a pang of longing. He missed it—the cool breeze out on the water, the hum of the boat cutting through the waves, the splash of the salty ocean. And yeah, he even missed the squish of the sand between his toes, the crash of the waves against his feet.
