“Yeah.”
The whispered word sent another ripple of heat and desire through Jake. He tempered it with a small smile and then bent down as Rye stretched up. They met in a soft kiss that deepened quickly. Rye took the lead, his lips caressing Jake’s with a deliciously silky warmth, which turned almost demanding as both of Rye’s hands settled on Jake’s chest and started to inch upward. His hands stopped on either side of Jake’s neck, and Jake groaned, suddenly wishing for something he knew both of them weren’t ready for yet.
Rye seemed to maybe be thinking the same thing, because he also made some sound deep in his throat and then pressed himself up against Jake, clasping his hands at the back of Jake’s neck to hold him in the kiss. Then his tongue darted out, running along Jake’s bottom lip, and Jake eagerly met him. It was bold, the kind of kiss they’d only shared a few times now, and there was something more to it this time, too. Like an urgent sort ofwantthat maybe Rye wasn’t hiding or holding back anymore. Or maybe he was just feeling for the first time.
Jake felt the now unmistakable pulse of his own arousal, something still relatively new to him as well. He groaned again and then pulled back, shaking his head as he huffed a breathless laugh. Rye hummed and stretched up to steal another kiss, this one short and light. Then Rye backed away a step, his hands sliding back down to Jake’s chest.
And god, the sight of him—his lips swollen and red from kissing, his cheeks flushed, his eyes bright—sent another jolt through Jake, and he swallowed hard and tried to catch his breath.
“You’re going to make me late, kissing me like that,” Rye teased, pressing both of his hands into Jake again.
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No, I’m not,” Jake agreed. And he chuckled and then reached up to brush his fingers along Rye’s cheek. Rye smiled and leaned into the touch, and Jake bent down one last time and placed a gentle kiss on Rye’s forehead. “But maybe I should drive,” he said when he pulled back, “or you reallywillbe late.”
Rye laughed and nodded. “Yeah, after last week, I have to say I agree.”
“I did tell you that it would be better if—”
“I thought we agreednotto mention that again.Ever,” Rye cut in firmly, though he was still smiling. He stepped away from Jake and started around to the passenger’s side of Jake’s car.
“We didn’t agree. You dictated,” Jake countered.
“Same thing. Now come on, or I’ll be late even if youaredriving.”
With another laugh, Jake gave in, heading around to the driver’s side and then climbing into the car. As soon as he’d settled and fastened his seat belt, Rye’s hand found his thigh, and while that didn’t really help his racing heart to slow, he loved it all the same.
Chapter Sixty-Four
Rye
Jakepulledupinfront of the bookstore at just one minute before nine, when the bookstore was to open, and Rye gave him a quick goodbye kiss on the cheek before climbing out of the car and hurrying inside. Janice was already there, straightening a new display she’d set up the day before, and she greeted him with a kind smile and wave as he entered.
“Good morning, Ryan. Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
She said that every morning, and every morning, Rye had to agree with her. He paused and glanced behind him. He could just see across the small street and out past the boardwalk to the water, where beachgoers and vacationers were already starting their day. The sun shone brightly, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
Rye smiled and nodded. “It is beautiful today,” he said, turning back to his boss.
Janice’s smile widened, and her eyes lit up with what was probably a mixture of surprise and pride, which was plenty fair. He usually couldn’t talk to her first thing in the morning. Or later in the day. Or much at all, really. Just like how he still couldn’t really talk to most adults outside his family and Jake. Sometimes he’d manage a few words or ayesornohere and there. But a complete sentence without hesitation or stuttering was still rare, even though he felt perfectly safe with Janice.
She stared at him for another few seconds and then smiled again and motioned him toward the cash register. He followed her over, and when they reached the small desk, she lifted up a single sheet of paper with a list printed on it and a few handwritten notes.
“I got nearly a dozen new orders from the online store last night and this morning,” she said, offering him the paper. “Seems folks are quite interested in those old poetry books we listed. Plus, I just got in a shipment of books andrecords and things from an estate sale. The box is in the back, if you want to try to get the listings ready to be posted. That should keep you pretty busy, I think?”
Rye scanned the list and her notes and nodded. “Yeah, I think so,” he said, glad that he was able to say the words instead of just nod. He looked back up at her to see that same expression of pride and surprise in her eyes.
“Alright. Thank you so much, Ryan. It’s great to have you here helping me.”
This time, he had no words, but he felt his cheeks heat up as he nodded. Then, he headed off to the back office to get to work. A few minutes later, he was settled at the desk, waiting for Janice’s computer to boot up while he opened the large box she’d received and began sorting through the contents. Old novels. Records. Some ancient-looking notebooks with tissue-paper-thin pages. Lots of interesting things. Janice would come back later to give him pricing for each of the items, but it was his job right now to take pictures, write up descriptions, and enter the details for each item into her online store for her to resell. Then, he’d stock the items on the shelves out in the main bookstore in case an in-person customer wanted to purchase the item.
And Rye enjoyed it. He liked working here, and he liked feeling useful.
He still hoped someday that maybe he’d get to work at the school. He’d loved running the book club with the children during the school year, and he usually hadn’t had much trouble talking to the kids. But communication broke down too quickly if he needed to talk to any adults, like teachers or parents. Plus, the couple of times he’d tried to go to the school in the last few months hadn’t ended well.
The first time, back in March, he’d tried to attend a small event at the school library and had ended up having a panic attack before even getting out of the car. The second time, right at the end of May, he’d tried to go speak with the principal about a job as a teacher’s assistant or tutor for the younger grade levels, but even though Jake had been with him, he hadn’t been able to get himself to go into the school, and the drive home, heading away from the school—that same route he’d walked over seventeen years ago now, when he’d been just eight years old—had been nearly as bad as the first time. He’d only barely managed to not panic when he’d closed his eyes and held tight to Jake’s hand.
