And Jake felt the weight of those words like a heaviness on his chest, holding him down. He exhaled a shuddering breath and pressed his cheek into Rye’s hair.
“You’re everything to me.This”—Jake squeezed Rye’s hand gently—“is everything to me. Whether we ever do anything more, or whether this is as far as we go, it’s enough.”
“. . . Really?”
“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “And you will always—always—have a choice. You can always say no.”
Silence filled the room, and Jake let it, figuring Rye needed a moment. After all, Rye had done more talking just now than maybe in the last several weeks combined, and all of it had been hard, more proof of Rye’s strength and resilience.
It was several minutes later when Rye finally shifted, nuzzling his head into the crook of Jake’s shoulder again. “So, then... um, yes. This can be a date,” Rye said, and his fingers drifted down, out from under Jake’s hand, stopping to fiddle with the bracelet on Jake’s wrist.
Jake breathed a sigh—one of both relief and contentment—and closed his eyes. “Ourfirstdate.”
“Our first date,” Rye repeated with a tiny nod against Jake’s chest.
The first of many, Jake hoped, and he let himself imagine what it would be like—having this. Every day. Before he could stop himself, he asked, “Our second date—can it be tomorrow? That’s soon, I know. And you can say n—”
“Yes,” Rye cut in, and he leaned back a little and looked up at Jake, his eyes twinkling with what had to be a cautious joy.
It was beautiful. Rye was beautiful.
Jake’s breath caught in his throat, and he lifted his hand again to cup Rye’s cheek. “I’m looking forward to it,” he said.
And Rye smiled up at him and said, “Me too.”
Three months later . . .
Chapter Fifty-Four
Rye
Ryesatcross-leggedonthe fluffy blue carpet in the small open space at the bookstore, watching as Sadie Johnson held up her book with a bright, toothy grin. The kindergartener had just started reading a bunch on her own over winter break, and according to her mom, she’d apparently been quite impatient to share with the rest of the book club.
Sadie jumped straight into her spiel—a detailed if not slightly meandering description of the story and characters—as the four other students listened, all of their faces lit up with delight. They passed around the book while Sadie kept talking, and even the two older children in the group—second grader Andrew Bronte and his twin sister, Lilah—took a few minutes to flip through the pages. It was some story that involved dragons living in underwater caves, and it looked as exciting as Sadie made it sound.
When she was done and the book had made its rounds, each of the other children also took their own turns showing off their favorite book they’d read over winter break.
Rye mostly watched and listened, joyful to feel and see the children’s excitement. He jumped in a few times to help when Joanna Lim got stuck talking about one of the characters in her book and when Andrew asked Dylan Cramer a question about a book series he’d just finished.
It was easy to talk to the children. Easy enough, anyway. The hardest part of his day would be later, when the parents came back at the end of Rye’s hour with them. But Jake would be here by then to help if needed.
Jake always came in on Wednesdays, and not just to help Rye with the parents. Because Wednesdays were half days at the school, the Wednesday book club ran from noon to one, and so, nearly every Wednesday since early November, when Rye had first started hosting the book club, Jake would show up toward the end of the session to pick Rye up. They’d head to the store, grab something to cookfor dinner together, then go back to Jake’s house and have plenty of time for pre-dinner snuggles on the couch while they watched TV or played video games.
It was wonderful and had made Wednesdays Rye’s favorite day of the week.
After the kids finished discussing their books, Rye set each of them up with an art tray, paints, and a small canvas. They could barely contain their excitement—again—when he explained he wanted each of them to think about the cover of their book and then paint their book anewcover.
“It can be from your favorite part of the book or of the setting or characters. Whatever you can imagine,” he finished.
Sadie squealed with glee as she blurted out, “I’m going to paint Elba!”
“The blue dragon?” Joanna asked.
“No, that’s Margo. Elba is the orange one. She’s my favorite.”
They got started, chatting away as they painted, and Rye leaned back, smiling, and watched. He felt the moment Jake walked into the bookstore, though. It was a warmth, growing and surrounding him, making that little tickle of unease that nearly always lived with him fade away into the background.
Rye glanced up, knowing he’d see Jake near the front of the store, greeting Janice. Sure enough, Jake stood at the cash register, handing Janice a small box—probably extra cookies that Krista had sent. Jake still had tons since Krista had gone on a holiday baking kick starting in mid-December. She’d baked about thirty or forty dozen cookies of various flavors and sent probably half of those to Jake. Even with Rye and Jake chipping away at the stash nearly every day, Jake had way too many left, and he’d been giving them away to anyone he could, like Janice.
