It was beautiful.Ryewas beautiful.
Jake bit his lower lip and nodded toward the fridge. “I, uh, chopped everything up for the salad already.”
Rye’s grin turned into a smirk. “You’re so useful.”
“I try.” Jake laughed, and Rye joined him.
It was silly and familiar, their teasing and banter and laughter, and more importantly, it meant Rye was in a good place today.
That wasn’t always the case, of course, and Jake didn’t expect it to be. More often than not, Rye still struggled. Things had been dicey enough over the summer, when Rye hadn’t been able to deal with the crowds of tourists who flocked to their small town for the beautiful beaches and gorgeous weather. But then, after he and Rye had gotten the awful news about the sighting of Raymond Hirsh in Arizona, things had gotten even more unpredictable.
Many days were perfectly fine. And it had been incredible watching Ryethriveas he’d grown his book club—up from two days a week to three now because more children had wanted to join. But going out—even just their little trips to the grocery store on Wednesdays or the few times a week they made it to the café for lunch and then to the beach for a walk—had proven be a huge challenge and sometimes triggered these mini panic attacks that would linger with Rye for the rest of the day or even the rest of the week.
Rye had tried therapy again; his mom had found him a new therapist up in Eureka who specialized in treating cPTSD, and Jake had even gone with Rye to try to help him feel comfortable and be able to communicate. However, even as nice as the therapist had been, Rye had found the whole thing much more stressful than helpful, and after the third visit had brought about a week full of nearly sleepless nights filled with nightmares and downhill spiraling, they’d all agreed to take a break and try again in a few more months.
Thankfully, Rye had usually been able to find solace in Jake, even in the middle of his panic, and for that, Jake was immensely grateful. In fact, he was grateful for a whole lot, especially the fact that Rye had given him—them—a chance.
Even the hardest of days were better than when Jake had been alone.
He found that almost funny to think about, since he’d truly thought he’d been happy on his own. But now, he couldn’t imagine any life without Rye in it. He couldn’t imagine not having this friendship.
Rye had stopped laughing, but his eyes still sparkled. He stepped toward the refrigerator and then started taking ingredients out and setting them on the counter. “How about I’ll put the salad together, and you can set the table?” he suggested.
Jake nodded. “Sure, yep. Oh, and while we eat, I wanted to show you the article I’m writing.”
“The one about the dolphins?” Rye asked.
“Porpoises, actually,” Jake corrected. “The vaquita—one of the most critically endangered species of cetaceans in the world. I interviewed one of the scientists working with a group from NOAA yesterday. They’ve been collaborating with the government of Mexico in their conservation efforts, and he shared with me that theyjustfound three new calves who had to have been born over the summer...”
Jake set the table while Rye made the cucumber salad, and Jake continued talking, excited to share the wonderful news with Rye. By the time they sat down to eat about twenty minutes later, he’d basically already explained the entire article he’d written and sent off to his editor this morning. So over dinner, they talked about other things instead. The weather. The TV show they’d been watching earlier. The book Rye had just finished reading.
His heart was so ridiculously full, Jake thought it might burst.
After dinner, they cleaned up the kitchen together and then settled back on the couch with tea and cookies.
“These ones are my favorite,” Rye declared as he picked one of the chocolate chip cookies up off the plate and then settled back onto the couch, sitting cross-legged facing Jake.
“Mine too,” Jake agreed. He set down his tea next to Rye’s on the coffee table and then picked up a cookie for himself. “I have to say, though, I’m becoming partial to the snickerdoodles too.”
“Mm, yeah. Those are a close second.” Rye took a big bite of his cookie and then chewed slowly. He looked pensive, but he didn’t say anything else. After a quiet moment, Rye scooted closer to Jake, tucking his legs underneath himself.
Jake finished his own cookie and then slipped his arm around Rye’s shoulders and squeezed gently. “You okay?” he asked.
Rye just nodded, but didn’t otherwise answer, and Jake gave him another light squeeze. Rye shifted again, resting his head in the crook of Jake’s shoulder. With some hesitation that somehow also didn’t seem hesitant at all, Rye reached out and took Jake’s hand in both of his, studying it, his fingers teasing along the top of Jake’s knuckles. Jake didn’t move or speak, but his heart was racing along now, beating hard and fast. And his chest buzzed with anticipation—for what, he wasn’t quite sure—as an eager warmth settled low in his belly.
“Jake,” Rye started, burrowing up against Jake a little more, his breath hot on Jake’s chest, “do you... ever think about... kissing me?”
The words hung between them, heavy, and yet, Rye hadn’t sounded uncertain. Carefully, Jake lowered his head to rest against Rye’s. “I... do.”
Rye took a long, slow breath and continued playing with Jake’s hand in his. “You’ve never mentioned it.”
“Ah, well, I didn’t want you to feel pressured or anything,” Jake said softly.
“But you think about it?” Rye repeated. “And you... want to?”
“Do I want to kiss you?”
Rye nodded, and his fingers froze for a moment, except his thumbs, which stroked up and down across the knuckles of Jake’s first two fingers. His skin felt on fire now, and he closed his eyes and relished the touch. There was something different about it. Or maybe it was just the topic Rye had brought up, but hell, he was sure having a hard timenotturning his head to press a kiss into Rye’s hair now.
