What if Iwantotherwise?Rye clenched his jaw and gave a tiny nod, but the questions started swirling around again. Did he want... more? And what did that mean? And could he handle it? And... and would it be fair to Jake if they tried and... it didn’t work? If they tried, and Rye couldn’t make himself... less broken?
“Whatever questions you’re asking yourself,” Jake continued quietly, “we can talk them out, if you want. When you’re ready, or, I mean, if you’re ready. It doesn’t have to be now or tonight or tomorrow. If you want to talk, I’ll wait for you. Whenever you’re ready, however long it takes. No rush. No pressure. Nothing like that. You mean a lot to me, and I... I’ll wait. Gladly.”
Rye found himself nodding, even though he wasn’t answering any specific question.
Or maybe hewas.
Maybe he was answering hisownquestion. Maybe hedidwant more.
Rye reached up and touched his cheek, the spot where Jake’s fingers had brushed so gently across his skin days ago. A warm rush to his chest brought a small smile back to his face, and he closed his eyes for a second and inhaled deeply.
When he looked back up, Jake was watching him, his expression unreadable now. Rye swallowed and nodded again, and thenhemade the next move. He gave in—just a little—to that pull he’d been feeling in his heart. He set a hand on the couch and scooted himself out of his corner. A few inches and then a few more. And when he was close enough, he reached out slowly and slid his hand along the back of the couch until the tips of his fingers brushed lightly against Jake’s.
He heard Jake’s sharp inhale, but he didn’t look up. He was watching their hands. His small, pale fingers caressed along the back of Jake’s, and he stopped and stayed there, their fingers barely touching, just a whisper of contact.
It was nothing. And yet, it was everything.
When he did finally lift his gaze again, the expression he saw in Jake’s eyes left no doubt that Jake was feeling it too.
“I-I like . . . this,” Rye said.
And Jake gave a soft nod. “Yeah, I do, too.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Jake
Nothingcouldhavepreparedhim. Not anything he’d ever read or anything he’d ever seen in movies or on TV. Nothing.
Because what Jake felt when Rye’s fingers lightly brushed his was like nothing he could have imagined. Fire danced up his arm and spread through his chest. Fire and a brilliant heat that tingled and buzzed. And he immediately had a million questions that he knew he couldn’t ask yet.
Rye’s fingers settled on top of his and stayed there, and when Rye breathed a quiet, tentative “I-I like... this,” Jake nodded softly, not wanting to change anything about the moment.
“Yeah, I do, too.”
The smile that burst into Rye’s eyes took his breath away, and slowly, carefully, Jake turned his hand over and curled his fingers, reveling in the feel of the warm skin of Rye’s palm against his fingertips.
“Incredible.” The word escaped him on a sigh, and he glanced up to see Rye give a tiny nod in agreement. Rye was staring at their hands, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and he copied the motion Jake had made, curling his fingers to run them lightly over Jake’s open palm.
God. He’d had no idea it could feel like this.
None.
And he wanted to tell Rye that. And ask how Rye was feeling, if he was feeling it. And ask those million other questions. But he also just wanted to stay here in the moment andfeelwhat had to be the single best thing he’d probably ever felt in his life.
He felt silly for thinking that, but it was true.
Rye let out a soft breath then, and Jake tore his gaze away from their hands to see Rye close his eyes and tilt his head sideways, resting it on his arm. He looked so content, so peaceful. Given everything Jake knew Rye had beenthrough—and all the things Jake only suspected but didn’t know for sure—the moment seemed even more meaningful.
They stayed there like that, their fingers curled into each other’s, gently touching, for what was probably several minutes. Rye was the first to move again, and he pulled his hand back slowly and shifted until he was sitting straighter on the couch, his knees still hugged to his chest.
“I... liked that,” Rye said, looking up at Jake through long, dark lashes. His expression flickered with uncertainty for a second, however, and he blinked and lowered his eyes. “I don’t know... anything about this stuff. I just know that I trust you and I like being around you. And that felt... really good.”
Affection bloomed in Jake’s chest as he watched the beautiful man whom he’d come to think of as his best friend blush slightly, his cheeks turning pink. Rye then reached up and tucked his hair back behind his ear, ducking his head a bit.
Jake gave a small nod and resisted the urge to scoot closer, trace that same path on Rye’s cheek that he’d touched days ago, wrap his arm around Rye’s shoulders and pull him into a soft embrace. He didn’t really know, but he suspected anything more would be much too much right now.
Hell, he was almost overwhelmed himself. And so, to imagine what Rye must be feeling...
