Rye nodded in understanding, and he kicked his shoes off and rolled back over onto his back, then turned his head to look at Jake again. When Jake glanced up from his leg and met Rye’s gaze, Rye asked, “Will it... always hurt?”
The answer he got wasn’t the answer he’d expected, because Jake didn’t really answer. Not right away. He stared at Rye for a few long seconds, then he frowned and dropped his eyes back to his leg.
“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Rye said quickly, and he propped himself up on his elbow. “I just... don’t like to see you hurting, and I wish...”I wish I could take your pain away.It sounded a little silly in his head, so he was almost glad the words had stuck in his throat then. He swallowed and continued watching Jake.
Jake’s hand had stopped on his thigh, but it was pressing down, and his jaw was tight. Then, Jake took a long, slow breath, and his grimace was replaced with a small, wistful smile.
“You didn’t upset me,” he assured. “I don’t talk about some things much, so I’m not sure how to say it, I guess.”
“You don’t have to talk about it if it’s hard,” Rye said slowly. “I just want to know you better and... and understand.”
Something about his words made Jake’s smile turn from wistful to some other emotion, not quite as sad. “I want that too,” Jake said, and he took another long breath. “And I want you to feel comfortable asking me anything. It’s, um, just that, yeah, I don’t talk about it much.”
A weak tug in his gut had Rye scooting closer to the edge of the bed, and he swallowed hard. He could have said about the same words to Jake, although therewere things he was pretty sure hestillwasn’t ready to talk about, even with Jake. But he definitely understood the sentiment and Jake’s hesitation.
Carefully, Rye said, “I... can hold your hand while you talk, if that would help.”
The smile on Jake’s face softened, and he gave a tentative nod. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”
“Oh, good.”Because I already miss holding your hand.Rye didn’t say those words, but he meant them, and he felt them, an ache in his chest much like the one he’d had when he was apart from Jake. “Because I-I would too,” he finished instead, and he pushed himself to his feet.
Jake was watching him with that same soft smile, and his eyes seemed to be searching for something. What, Rye wasn’t sure, but he felt another flush of heat in his cheeks, and he bit his lip.
“Can we sit together on the bed? So we can talk?” he suggested, somehow without stuttering or faltering or hesitating, even though nervous butterflies fluttered around in his stomach.
For once, Jake seemed to have no words. He just nodded silently and scooted over to the other side of the bed to give Rye room, his back propped on the pillows at the headboard. Rye sat and then shifted until he was in the same position as Jake, only with one leg curled up under the other.
And it was more than a little awkward for several seconds. The foot or so of space between them felt huge. But then Jake tentatively let his hand come to rest on the top of the comforter, palm up in invitation, and Rye closed his eyes and slipped his hand into Jake’s.
Soft warmth surrounded him. Soft warmth and safety and reassurance.
A tiny, quiet sigh escaped his lips as he threaded his fingers through Jake’s.
“That’s... better,” he said, and this time, he didn’t feel silly when his voice caught, because Jake squeezed his hand oh-so gently.
“Definitely,” Jake agreed.
They were both quiet for a few minutes, but Rye liked this quiet. He lethisthumb slowly drift back and forth this time, rubbing lightly along Jake’s skin. It felt different than when Jake did the same to him, and when he glanced sideways at Jake, he saw Jake’s eyes closed and his chest rising and falling with a carefully controlled rhythm.
He wondered exactly what Jake was feeling, whether Rye’s touch was affecting Jake in the same way Jake’s affected him. And he suddenly felt more than unsure and a little small, because if it wasn’t...
“Does this... feel good?” Rye asked slowly, needing to know.
And Jake didn’t even hesitate. “Very,” he said, the single word sending a rush of heat to Rye’s cheeks.
Rye ducked his head again. “Good.”
They sat there for another few minutes, then Jake finally squeezed his hand lightly.
“So, uh, my leg...” Jake started, and he blew out a short breath. “My doctor says it’ll always hurt to some degree. It’s usually not that bad, though. I do my workout every morning so the rest of my body stays strong, and that’s supposed to help. Usually it’s just stiffness or aching. It’s a little worse after long car rides. But, um, it’s the other things that have stuck with me from the accident that are more difficult to deal with, actually.”
A deep sadness tugged at Rye’s gut, and he shifted so he could look up at Jake. “Like... not getting to walk barefoot in the sand?” he guessed.
Jake nodded. “Yeah. That and, uh”—he paused and his expression tightened—“not being able to go back out on the water. It’s been harder to deal with, I think, than getting used to the pain...”
“But maybe . . . someday?”
“Yeah, I don’t know. I... I hope so?” Jake’s hand squeezed Rye’s again, and he sighed. “You know, when I was a kid, I was obsessed with marine life. Completely obsessed. All I ever wanted was to be a marine biologist,” he said, but there was a deep sadness in his voice that Rye could hear so clearly.
