Rye nodded gently, then shifted just a few inches closer, until their shoulders were almost touching, and he hoped it was okay. Or actually, he hoped it was more than okay. He hoped that Jake could feel Rye was here for him. Or something. He wasn’t entirely sure. But he scooted over another few inches and then, holding his breath, he leaned over and let his head rest against Jake’s shoulder.
Jake stiffened slightly and sucked in a breath, and Rye closed his eyes. “Sorry, you sounded sad, and I—”
“No, no. It’s perfect, Rye,” Jake cut in quietly. “I like this.”
Relief and something happy spread through his chest, and Rye nodded. “Okay, good.”
After another moment, Jake continued. “After the accident, I, um, told you how I decided to not try to go back to school.”
Rye nodded again, remembering their conversation at the beach months ago.
“It was the right decision, and I don’t regret it,” Jake said. “It would have been really difficult for me, and what I needed to concentrate on at the time was my recovery and my health. And so, I started writing instead. And I still get to have an impact—I think my articles are important, and since I often get to publish inNational Geographic, they get a lot of attention. I think it’s good. I’m happywith my life now. Really happy, actually. But sometimes, it’s still hard. Sometimes I wonder where I’d be if I’d made a different decision. I’d be... a postdoc by now. Or maybe assistant professor somewhere, doing my own research, probably on the effects of micro- and macroplastics on marine life. And I’d be making a difference in that way. It’s, um, another of those things the accident took away from me, and I just... yeah, I sometimes wonder where I’d be otherwise.”
The last few words hit Rye hard, for more than one reason. He forced himself to take two slow, deep breaths, and he squeezed Jake’s hand and turned his head slightly to press his cheek more against Jake’s shoulder.
“You... wouldn’t be here with me,” Rye said, though the awful truth was more than just that. “Just like... just like how I w-wouldn’t be here w-with you, if...”
And he instantly regretted having said the words, because Jake actually gasped, breathing out a rough “god” with his next exhale. “Rye, I...”
“Sorry,” Rye said softly. “Sorry, I... hate what happened to you and—and—and wh-what happened to me.” His words sounded stilted and forced, but he pushed through his stammering. “We can’t control... things or—or change the past and... and we just have to try to move on, and... even with what happened, I’m really, really glad we met.”
“Me too. I am, too,” Jake agreed immediately.
Rye could feel a subtle shift, a stutter almost, in Jake’s next breath. Then Jake’s thumb rubbed lightly along Rye’s skin. It seemed to Rye like a soft reminder or maybe a promise. And it felt good. So good that Rye closed his eyes and let out another of those comfortable sighs. Then he relaxed more into Jake.
“Thanks for listening.” Jake rubbed Rye’s hand again, and Rye hummed a quiet response.
He should probably go sit at the desk so he could study. Or they should watch a movie. Or maybe talk more. After all, Jake had opened up to him about all of that, yet there was still so much Rye hadn’t told him... or anyone. Also, it would be time to have dinner soon.
But all Rye really wanted to do then was to stay right where he was, right in this spot. So he snuggled in deeper, and Jake sighed contentedly.
It did feel good. Really, really good.
Chapter Fifty-One
Jake
Fridaymorningwaschillyand slightly overcast when Jake and Rye pulled into the parking lot at Shasta College. Rye sat quietly in his seat, staring out the window. He hadn’t said more than a few words all morning, but as soon as Jake parked his car in one of the few remaining open spots, Rye blew out a shaky breath.
“I’m so nervous. I feel sick.” He bent over and rested his elbows on his knees and his forehead in his hands. “Maybe... this isn’t a great idea.”
Jake turned off the car and gently reached out, placing his hand low on Rye’s back. “You’re ready for this,” he said, repeating the words he’d told Rye the night before when they’d finally gotten around to studying a bit. “You’ve worked so hard, and I just know you’re going to do great.”
They weren’t just rote words; Jake believed them. And he’d repeat them as many times as Rye needed him to.
He glanced up and across the parking lot toward the building. Small groups of students hung around outside, despite the morning chill, and a couple of people headed up a walkway leading to the building’s entrance. Jake was just about to look back at Rye and offer him more reassurance when he spotted it.
A news van sat parked right along the front row of cars, blocking at least one or two of the accessible parking spots in front of the building. A woman in a neat dark-blue business suit stood outside the van, alongside another person shouldering a large video camera.
A string of curses nearly slipped out. This was not what Rye needed. Not today. Notanyday, actually, but especially not today, when he was already nervous about taking his exams.
They’d been lucky in Rocky Cove. Even when Rye had first shown up and then again when Raymond Hirsh had been identified, the media hadn’t really stuck around terribly long. Everyone in town had been so tight-lipped, and Rye and hisfamily had obviously had no interest in talking to any reporters. Rachel and Wayne and the other law enforcement officers had made sure Rye and Shirley had round-the-clock protection at the beginning, and that had included keeping unwanted attention away from them.
Who might have tipped off the media that Rye would be here, Jake had no idea. Maybe they weren’t there for Rye anyway, Jake hoped, but it seemed unlikely. Especially since the woman reporter seemed to be scanning the parking lot, looking for someone.
Jake turned back to Rye and lightly rubbed his back. “Ready?”
“No. Yes. No.”
