Rye nodded. It would be okay. It would have to be.
“If it’s not, it’s not too late to head back to your place. I could sleep on the couch or, you know, wherever. Your mom had mentioned an extra bedroom.”
An image of Jake trying to fit himself into that tiny bed flashed in Rye’s mind, and he couldn’t stop himself from laughing as he shook his head.
“N-no. The bed... it’s...” He didn’t finish, but he managed to step away from Jake and into the room, toward the bed. And he tested his words again. “This... this is...”
Fine. This is fine. I’m sorry.
Glancing back at Jake over his shoulder, Rye tried to hold a smile on his face. Jake’s lips twitched up in response, and he nodded.
“Okay. If you’re sure?”
Rye nodded again but then stopped and frowned. Jake was leaning against the doorframe now, most of the weight off his bad leg, and his scar was more easily visible—the rough, pink skin several inches long, disappearing up under the hem of Jake’s shorts. Rye pursed his lips and lifted his eyes back to Jake.
“You’re hurting?” he managed to ask, and Jake’s expression tightened briefly.
“Nah, I’m okay, it’s—” Rye lifted his eyebrows, and Jake cut himself off with a short huff. “Sorry, yeah, itishurting. But it’s not too bad, really. It’ll be fine in the morning, I’m sure, so you don’t need to worry or anything.”
Rye dropped his overnight bag next to the bed, then stepped back over to Jake and took his hand. He tugged gently, guiding Jake over to the bed, and then he forced the words out.
“Sit here. I’ll be right back.”
Jake looked confused, but he did as Rye said, and after he sat, Rye turned and headed back out into the hallway—the nice, brightly lit hallway. He set one hand on the wall and closed his eyes just before he got to the end of the hallway. Then he groped around until he found the light switch that turned on the living room and kitchen lights, and he flipped it on.
He felt light and warmth, enough to settle the unease in his stomach, and then he opened his eyes, swallowed, and headed into the now-familiar kitchen.
“He has medicine, but he doesn’t like to take it unless he basically can’t walk. He’s stubborn like that,”Krista had told him some time ago.“I wish he’d take it when he needs it so he wasn’t hurting so much. But it has to be his decision, you know.”
Rye did know. It did have to be Jake’s decision. But maybe Rye could encourage him, too.
He opened up a cupboard and then the next one, and after another moment or two of searching, he found a small orange pill bottle with Jake’s name on it. He grabbed the bottle and then filled a glass halfway full with water, and he hurried back down the hallway to the extra bedroom, not even trying to stop and turn the lights off.
When he entered the room again, Jake was still sitting right where Rye had left him, and his hand was on his thigh, rubbing the muscles slowly. Rye stopped and sat next to him and then held out the medicine and water.
“It... will help,” he said, without quite as much hesitation as he’d had before. When Jake didn’t move, Rye added, “Kris told me it will help.”
That did the trick. Jake chuckled and lifted his hand up from his leg to take the pill bottle from Rye. “Yeah, she’s right. But when—ah, it doesn’t matter. She’s right, and, well, I’m too stubborn to admit it sometimes. I... worry about becoming reliant on things, um, other than myself, I guess.”
Rye nodded, and he held the glass of water out, too. “I... know it will always hurt, but if... if this can help you, at least when it’s hurting a lot, I hope... it’s okay.”
The words were jumbled and not very eloquent or articulate, which pretty much matched how he was feeling right about then. But they seemed to do the trick. Jake turned his head and held Rye’s gaze for a moment, his expression soft, and he looked like he really wanted to say something. Instead, however, he just gave a small nod.
“You’re right. Thank you, Rye,” he said, and he twisted off the cap to the pill bottle, shook one pill out into his palm, capped the bottle, and took the water from Rye. Then he popped the pill in his mouth and washed it down with a quick sip. He set the pill bottle on the bed next to him and then stared at the glass in his hands.
Rye scooted a little closer and leaned his head on Jake’s shoulder. “We’re...”
“. . . quite a pair?” Jake finished for him.
With a laugh, Rye nodded. “You came to help me because I... because I’m so broken, I’m still scared of the dark, and—”
“You’re not broken, Rye,” Jake interrupted lightly, and Rye just shook his head a little.
But then he saw the pill bottle again, sitting on the other side of Jake, and he finally made some connection. Some dumb, silly little connection that probably wouldn’t actually make much sense if he sat and thought too hard on it. And he knew he wouldn’t really be able to explain it anyway, but he wanted to try.
“I’m... exactly as I am,” he started, and he felt Jake nod. “Stuff happened to me. All those awful things. And I sometimes blame myself for it.” He paused andthen closed his eyes and worked really, really hard to force out the next words. “It wasn’t... itwasn’tmy fault. But it feels that way, sometimes. And... and it hurts a lot of the time—sometimes just a little, and sometimes it hurts a whole lot. So much that it’s almost too much. But I have to... survive. I have to get by. I have to let people help me when it gets really hard. Like... like how you helped me a few minutes ago.”
“And like howyouhelpedmejust now,” Jake whispered.
