Rye gave her another smile and a nod.
“Okay.” Her eyes almost looked sad, and he wondered what she was thinking. But he didn’t ask. “Good night, sweetie. I love you.”
“Love you, too, mama.”
She hugged him once more, briefly, and kissed his cheek, then disappeared back down the hallway. A moment later, Rye heard the door to her bedroom click shut softly, and he followed, taking one last look around the room before he headed down the hallway toward his own bedroom.
A half hour later, after a nice, hot shower, Rye crawled under the covers in his own bed in his own room and picked up his cell phone from the nightstand. Then he lay on his back, his knees bent up, and opened up his messenger app to type out a short text to his boyfriend.
Rye (10:43 p.m.):Just getting into bed now. You still up?
Rye stared at his phone, waiting for a response. It didn’t take long, and his heart fluttered in his chest as Jake’s message popped up on the screen.
Jake (10:44 p.m.):Yup. I just finished talking to Kris a few minutes ago. Heading to bedin a bit
Jake (10:44 p.m.):Are you doing okay? I hope you had a great evening with your family
Jake (10:45 p.m.):I love you <3
The pleasant swoop in Rye’s stomach was followed almost immediately by a sadness, a longing, and along with that, a ghost touch—fingers brushing along his cheek, a warm breath whispering in his ear, a kiss pressed to the top of his head. He closed his eyes.
God, how he wished . . .
Pursing his lips, he forced his eyes open so he could text Jake back.
Rye (10:47 p.m.):I’m doing good. The afternoon and evening were great. I think my mom and Aunt Tanya showed me about eleven billion photos from their trip. It was fun :)
He hit send, even though he hadn’t said everything he’d wanted to. He started typing again, only to erase it and start over. And he did that again and again, all the variations ofI missed you, I wished you’d been herejust not really communicating exactly what he wanted them to. Finally, he settled simply onCan’t wait to see you tomorrow. I love you, and then he closed his eyes and set his phone down on the bed next to him.
God, he wished Jake were here. Or he was there, with Jake. Just that they were together still. He missed it already—being in Jake’s arms, cuddling in that spot he’d come to love so much, feeling Jake’s strong arms surrounding him. He missed the warmth of Jake’s embrace, the feeling of closing his eyes and just knowing that he was... right where he was meant to be.
He missed the comfort of it. The familiarity. The sense of safety and belonging. The love.
His phone buzzed, and he sighed and lifted it up again.
Jake (10:51 p.m.):Tomorrow <3
Jake (10:51 p.m.):I hope you sleep well. Good night. I love you
Jake (10:51 p.m.):(yeah, I said that already, but I wanted to say it again) <3
Rye’s heart ached as he read the messages, that same deep longing tugging at him, and he actually turned over onto his stomach and buried his face into his pillow.
I miss you. I love you. I want to be there with you.
The feelings were strong and a little disorienting, and when Rye turned his head and opened his eyes, gazing at what he could see of his bedroom from this angle, he felt that same odd detachment he’d been feeling all afternoon and evening. He didn’t want to put words to it, though, because he finally thought maybe he understood it.
And it was scary.
But as he lay there, still staring at the bedroom he called his in the house he’d been calling his home, he realized even if it was scary, he knew exactly what he wanted and exactly what he needed. And he knew it was going to have to be him to make the first move.
He was going to have to initiate.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he took two measured, slow breaths. Then he sat up, stuffed his phone into the pocket of his pajama pants, and stood. He quietly tiptoed out of his room and down the hallway until he was in front of his mom’s bedroom door. Biting his lip, he knocked lightly three times. When he heard his mom’s sleep-filled voice call for him to come on in, he turned the door handle, pushed the door open partway, and peeked in across the dimly lit room to where his mom sat up in the bed, having just switched on her bedside lamp.
“What is it, sweetie? Are you okay?”
“Mama, I... I need to talk to you about something.”
