Jake almost felt like an intruder, and he stood there awkwardly for another few seconds while Jon kept talking, his voice still low and calm. When Jon finished what he was saying about how they’d put together what Jake realized was the birdhouse Rye had mentioned on Thursday, Jake cleared his throat and knocked lightly on the door.
Jon glanced up and gave Jake a warm smile, and Rye swiveled around on his stool until he was facing Jake. He held a couple of small metal hinges in his hand, and there was a smudge of sawdust on his cheek. But his eyes lit up as he saw Jake, and it was beautiful.
Hewas beautiful.
“Hi, Rye,” Jake said, groaning inwardly at how breathless he sounded. He cleared his throat again and then nodded to Jon. “Jon, good to see you too.”
“Come on over and help, we were just about to start putting everything together. Rye helped cut all the wood pieces, and he just finished sanding them while I was cleaning up.”
“Ah, okay, if you’re sure? I don’t want to intrude,” Jake admitted, and though he’d been responding to Jon, he looked back at Rye. His boyfriend smiled and then shook his head and reached out a hand.
Jake pushed himself away from the door and moved to join the two other men at the workbench. As he approached, Rye set down the hinges and stood, and without any sort of hesitation, Rye stepped up to meet Jake and wrapped his arms low around Jake’s waist.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Rye murmured, letting his head settle on Jake’s chest.
Jake hummed a quiet agreement and returned the embrace, holding Rye to him.
“Yeah, me too,” he said. Then he closed his eyes and rested his cheek on top of Rye’s head. “But I think you’re getting sawdust all over me.”
Rye’s warm laughter was muffled into Jake’s sweater, but he didn’t move to back away. Jake didn’t either. He didn’t want to let go. “Your fault for wearing black to a birdhouse-making party.”
“This is a party, huh?”
“Mm-hmm, yeah.”
“I missed you,” Jake breathed, because he couldn’t hold it back any longer. He held Rye a little tighter for a second, and then he lifted his head. Rye leaned back in his arms and looked up at him.
His eyes were tired but still had a brightness to them, and that made Jake’s heart swell in his chest.
“I missed you too,” Rye said, though his voice faltered. He seemed to try to smile, but he couldn’t quite get there. “I’m... okay. Kind of. I was really tired yesterday, and today.”
Jake gave a small nod and then reached up slowly, his eyes asking for permission. Rye tipped his head in consent and then closed his eyes, and Jake let the back of his fingers lightly graze along Rye’s jawline. It was all that he needed then—that little touch—and all his lingering unease faded as he leaned forward and pressed a soft, soft kiss to Rye’s forehead.
“Mmm,” Rye hummed, and his hands came to settle on Jake’s chest.
“You’re getting more sawdust on me.”
“Yeah.”
Jake laughed, and Rye looked up at him again. This time, his eyes were even a little brighter, and his cheeks were tinged pink.
“Should we finish the birdhouse?” Jake asked, suddenly acutely aware of Jon standing only a few feet away, sweeping up some sawdust on the floor.
Rye nodded, and his lips finally turned up into a small smile. “Yeah.” He stepped away but slipped his hand into Jake’s, intertwining their fingers easily as though it were something completely natural.
It was all that he needed and more.
Chapter Sixty-Two
Rye
Ryeturnedthepapersculpture over in his hands, studying the shaping he’d completed the night before. The sea turtle was the same he’d been working on for months and months now; he’d had to restart three or four times when he’d made mistakes and hadn’t liked how some part of it had turned out. This one, though—this final version—was about as perfect as he thought he could make it.
It was a loggerhead sea turtle, modeled with a medium-brown, textured paper, and the whole thing was just big enough to fit in his hand. Each ridge in its shell, each crease of its flippers had been made carefully and with as much precision as he could.
He smiled and stood, cradling it in his hands. Then he walked out of his room and down the hallway toward the kitchen, where Jake was making them tea.
Pausing at the end of the hallway, Rye peeked around the corner. Jake had just poured the tea into their mugs and was discarding the used tea leaves in the trash. He didn’t seem to notice Rye yet. With a silly half-smile, Rye cleared his throat and said, “I’m back, but I need you to close your eyes before I come out.”
