“This, Jake, look.”
He twisted around. Rachel still knelt a few feet away, and she’d pulled out her own cell phone and turned the screen toward him. And his heart clenched painfully in his chest—nausea and unease and disgust hitting him all at once.
There, under an old, awful photograph of a man Jake recognized as Raymond Hirsh, was the title of a news article dated just about an hour ago. The large, bold font read “Police in Pursuit of Suspect in Attempted Kidnapping in Tucson, Arizona.”
A curse nearly escaped him, but he held it back, and his eyes darted up to meet Rachel’s. “Is that why you’re here?”
Rachel nodded. “We called Shirley,” she explained, “and she said Rye was with you. We called your cell and your landline. My dad sent me out here when we couldn’t get a hold of you.” She kept her voice quiet, but Jake felt Rye flinch again.
He turned his attention back to his boyfriend. “Did they catch him yet?” Jake asked, his heart now hammering in his chest. Rye must have seen that photo. God, he couldn’t even imagine what that must have felt like to Rye. He listened to Rachel’s response as he started murmuring quiet nothings to Rye again, reminding him he was safe and not alone.
“He tried to take a young boy—six or seven years old, I think,” Rachel explained, keeping her voice low. Jake’s stomach lurched, and he closed his eyes for a long second. “The boy screamed and struggled, and Hirsh panicked and took off. Someone nearby saw the whole thing, helped the boy, called 9-1-1. Hirsh happened to drive right past an officer on their way to the scene, and they took off after him. They’re currently in a standoff after Hirsh barricaded himself inside a home somewhere in South Tucson. He’s armed, and it’s tense.”
Jake swallowed back a few more curses and nodded. “Give me a few minutes here. He needs space, and quiet.”
“Yeah, ofcourse.”
Rachel backed away, and Jake heard muffled sounds of footsteps, the front door closing, and then a chair being scooted out at the table as he refocused all his attention back on Rye.
“Rye?” He wanted to scoot closer and gather Rye up in his arms, kiss his forehead and hold him tight. He wanted to protect Rye from whatever was in his head, wherever his thoughts had gone that had to be so dark and scary. But he knew Rye needed time, and so he waited with him, his hand still softly touching Rye’s knee. Keeping his voice low, he continued to talk to Rye, offering words of reassurance and encouraging him to breathe slowly.
It was several more minutes before Rye finally took a longer breath, and it shuddered and shook as he exhaled.
“There we go,” Jake murmured. “There we go. Try again. Deep breaths.”
Rye tried, but then shook his head and mumbled something Jake couldn’t understand, and he pushed himself away, shifting until he was sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. Jake could see his body shaking now, a visible tremor in his hands and legs, and Rye pushed himself away a few more inches.
It hurt. It hurt suddenly and strongly and in so many ways.
God, they’d been... about to kiss. And the whole morning had been incredible, uplifting, and filled with so much hope. Rye had helped Jake work past his own trauma, and they’d walked on the beach, holding hands the whole way.
Then, in an instant, everything had shattered.
Maybe under different circumstances, Rye would have been able to handle the news. After all, it was essentiallygoodnews. Maybe they were going to finally catch that awful man. And the child was safe—Hirsh hadn’t succeeded this time.
But if Rye had indeed seen that same news article pop up in his notifications—if the face of the man who had abused him for fifteen years had suddenly, unexpectedly beenright there, staring back at him with those awful, unnerving eyes and unhinged sneer—his reaction not only made sense but was also warranted.
Jake had no doubt Rye hadn’t even gotten to read the headline.
“Rye, you’re safe, okay?” he tried, watching as Rye took more short, labored breaths. “I’m here with you now, okay?”
To Jake’s relief, Rye lifted his chin just enough to look out at Jake through the mess of curls that had fallen over his forehead. His stormy eyes met Jake’s but then darted around as though just realizing where he was. Then Rye closed his eyes again and buried his head back in his knees, and his whole body shuddered.
“I’m here, and you’re safe, Rye. Okay?” Jake repeated, and when Rye gave the tiniest nod a few seconds later, Jake breathed in a sigh of relief. “Can I sit with you?” he asked gently, and Rye nodded again.
Carefully and slowly, Jake scooted over to sit next to Rye, his back against the glass door of the patio. He reached out, as he had several times in the past, and lightly placed his hand on Rye’s back. Another shudder or shiver seemed to ripple through Rye as he let out a long breath, and then Rye actually moved closer to Jake until their knees were touching and he could rest his head against Jake’s shoulder. Swallowing hard, Jake slipped his arm up and around Rye’s shoulders.
And Rye sucked in a breath and let his legs fall, and he turned and buried his face into Jake’s chest, shaking with another sob. “S-s-sorry,” he rasped between breaths, and Jake shook his head.
“No, no, no. You’re okay. I’m here with you, alright?”
“I-I-I s-saw...” Rye’s hand gripped Jake’s sweater, and some small sound escaped him. A small, terrified mumble, followed quickly by more tension and another shudder.
“Shh, shh. I think I know what you saw. You don’t have to say it. Okay?” Rye seemed to nod into him, which was more than enough response for Jake. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek against the top of Rye’s head. “Rachel’s here, but she’s at the table, so it’s still really just you and me. Okay? And we can stay right here until you’re ready to get up.”
Rye made another small noise that seemed like some sort of agreement, and Jake gave him a gentle squeeze as he opened his eyes and looked up across the room. Rachel sat at the kitchen table, watching them over the top of her cell phone, and she nodded in acknowledgement and mouthed something liketake your time. Jake offered her a tight smile in return.
He continued talking to Rye, humming reassurances in a low, quiet voice, and slowly, Rye’s shaking started to ease and his breathing started to deepen. It was several minutes later when Rye finally released his hold on Jake’s sweater and mumbled some rough apology.
