Jake’s hands stilled on Rye’s arms, and he seemed to hesitate as several different emotions flickered in his eyes. “I’d like that a whole lot,” he said.
Heat rushed to Rye’s cheeks, and the anticipation in his chest burst into an eagerness he’d never really felt before. He gave a little nod and took a deep, steadying breath as he let his hand settle back on Jake’s chest. Then he stretched up on his toes, and Jake bent down a little to meet him, and—
The doorbell rang.
Rye flinched and took a sudden step back as the startling sound interrupted the silence. At the same time, Rye’s phone vibrated with several notifications from his pocket. The pleasant tingle in Rye’s chest turned sour and uncomfortable as he glanced past Jake back to the house. The doorbell rang again, and the sound was followed by a muffled knock.
Jake’s hands were still on Rye’s upper arms, and there was a gentle squeeze before the pressure dropped away.
“Sorry, that’s... that’s odd,” Jake said slowly. “I don’t usually get people at my door. Um... Sorry, I should probably answer it, though. Are you okay?”
Warm fingers threaded through his, and Rye nodded and looked back up at Jake. The lips he’d been so close to kissing were pursed in concern.
“Yeah... We can, um, go inside and then, uh... later.” His half-formed sentences didn’t really make any sense, he knew, but Jake just gave him a small nod. They both turned and started toward the house, Jake just ahead of Rye.
As Jake opened the slider and motioned Rye ahead of him into the house, Rye’s phone buzzed in his pocket several more times, insistent, and he frowned and pulled it out.
And that was when things got dark. And cold. And painful.
He was vaguely aware of Jake closing the door behind them and then moving away from him across the room. And Jake might have laughed and said something about the poor timing of it all. But Rye’s vision turned foggy, and everything around him started to close in, all the air leaving his lungs.
The man’s face stared up at him from his phone screen. Angry eyes boring into him, a sneering mouth ready to scream obscenities. There were words under the image, but they were blurry and Rye couldn’t read them.
And he couldn’t breathe.
The phone dropped out of his hands, clattering to the floor in front of him, and he stumbled backward. Fear wrapped itself around his throat, suffocating him. His back landed against a cold, hard surface, and he scrunched his eyes shut and slid to the floor. He gasped for breath, but there was no air in the room. No air, and he couldn’t breathe, and sharp pains shot through his chest as rotten, sour words started to come at him from every angle.
He covered his head with his arms to try to block it out, and he curled up, his back still against the cold, hard surface behind him.
This was it. He was finally going to die.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Jake
Jakereachedforthedoor handle, frowning. His phone had started buzzing in his pocket as soon as he’d left Rye’s side, no doubt just reconnecting to his home’s Wi-Fi, and the string of notifications had only now ended, leaving an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Another knock came at the door, this one a little more insistent, and the uneasiness turned into an even more uncomfortable churning.
He’d just started to pull the door open when he heard a strained gasp behind him, followed quickly by a clatter and a reverberating thud against the glass slider. He glanced back over his shoulder, leaving the front door partway open, and his stomach dropped.
Letting go of the door handle, Jake started hobbling back across the room, toward where Rye was now curled up, his arms covering his head as he gasped and sobbed.
“Jake, oh good, you’re home, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for—”
He recognized Rachel’s voice, but he ignored her, and he carefully slowed his pace and steps as he got closer to his boyfriend. Rye’s cell phone lay on the ground, the screen shattered and blank, and Rye was shaking badly, his face pale and his breaths coming in short, uneven pants.
“Oh, shoot, what happened?” Rachel asked from just behind him, her voice quiet.
“I don’t know,” Jake said, and he stepped around the cell phone and then lowered himself down to the ground without any grace or elegance at all. “Rye? Hey, Rye, you’re okay.”
Rye didn’t seem to hear him, and if anything, Rye’s shaking got worse. Jake scooted a little closer and tried again, murmuring soft words of reassurance.
“What can I do?” Rachel asked from behind him, still a good distance away, but Jake shook his head.
He had no idea. “Rye, shh, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Slowly, Jake scooted even closer, ignoring the ache in his leg, and he reached out and set his hand lightly on Rye’s knee. Rye flinched and whimpered, and Jake could now feel how much he was trembling. “You’re safe, Rye. It’s me, Jake. You’re okay, you’re okay.”
“He must’ve seen it,” Rachel said, and Jake frowned and glanced back over his shoulder at her. She was kneeling a few feet away, watching Rye with concern.
“Seen what?” Jake asked. He didn’t wait for her to answer, though, and he turned back to Rye and started talking quietly again, letting his thumb rub gently back and forth across the material of Rye’s sweatpants. There was some rustling behind him.
