Rye shook his head in response to Jake’s question and backed up a step until he hit the railing behind him.No.No, he wasn’t okay. Why did Jake keep asking him that? Wasn’t it obvious? He wanted to scream it again, scream the word out loud like he had inside the house. But nothing would come this time.
And Jake just nodded so gently, as though he somehow understood everything. Even though he couldn’t. He couldn’t possibly understand. He couldn’t possibly know.
“Okay,” Jake said softly. “That’s okay, you know. That’s okay.” Jake almost seemed to laugh. “I’m really not okay either. But I want to help you if you’ll let me. Why don’t you come back inside, and then—”
Rye shook his head again and took a step to his right, toward what looked like an old set of steps leading down to the beach. He reached behind him to grip the railing, though his hands almost immediately started to ache with the tension.
“Okay. You don’t have to. But it’s cold out here, and—” Jake let out a short breath and then ran a hand through his dark hair. Rye watched, and he found himself distracted by the very, very beginnings of wrinkles at the edges of Jake’s eyes. He stared, tilting his head slightly. Jake was... close to the age his mom had been. She’d had those same very slight wrinkles. Especially when she’d smiled.
What would she look like now? Would she look the same? Or would she have more wrinkles? Would her hair be gray? Would she still smile? Would she smile if she saw him?
He found himself sinking back down to the ground. And more tears. Too manyfuckingtears. Like a stupid fucking child.
No. No, no. A sharp pain lanced through chest as the curse seemed to echo in the space around him, the chill in the air suddenly thick and filled with the smell of cigarettes. He buried his head in his hands.
Footsteps approached, but he didn’t flinch away this time. They were heavy and uneven but careful. And somehow, he didn’t lose the fact that they belonged to Jake. The footsteps stopped only a little bit away, just in front of him and to his left.
“I know this is really difficult,” Jake said. And his voice was still so kind, so soft. “But please come back inside. It’s cold, and I’d be really worried if you stayed out here. I’m sorry if I said or did something else that bothered you. I didn’t mean to. Please come back inside.”
There was worry in the man’s tone, and it was unmistakable, even to Rye. Even though he’d heard nothing of the sort in years.
And so maybe that was why.
Maybe that was why he wanted so badly to trust Jake.
Another breeze blew in off the water, and Rye shivered as it cut right through the sweatshirt he was wearing. The one Jake had let him borrow. After Jake had fed him and cared for him and let him take a shower and sleep in a warm bed.
I’m scared.
He was. He was so scared. So scared that his stomach started twisting up into knots again and he felt lightheaded and dizzy. But he nodded, and he heard Jake blow out a short breath.
“Good, good. Uh, can I help you up?”
Immediately, Rye shook his head, and he heard what had to be a quiet laugh.
“Yeah, you’re right. If I tried, it’d probably be you who’d have to be helpingmeup. This leg of mine is in bad shape.” There was another chuckle, and Rye managed to look back up. Jake had taken a couple of short steps backward, and his smile seemed a bit forced. “I need to go sit. You promise me you’ll be inside soon?”
Yes.
Rye just nodded and then looked back down at his hands, which rested on his knees now. His skin was red from the cold, and when he balled his hands up into fists, he could barely feel his fingers. How had he gotten so cold so quickly?
“Alright.” Jake let out another breath, this one rougher, and Rye had to close his eyes for a second against the twinge of panic. But the feel of the wood planks under him and the railing up against his back, the cold of the breeze and the freshness of the ocean air all reminded him of where he was. Or rather... where hewasn’t.
Jake’s footsteps moved away, the wooden boards underneath Rye vibrating with each heavy step. And after another few minutes, Rye finally opened his eyes. Jake was inside, making his way slowly back to the couch, one hand gripping his right thigh.
Carefully, Rye pushed himself up to his feet, keeping hold of the railing as his body swayed a bit. When he felt steady enough, he let go and crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his hands under his arms to warm them up. Then he made his way back inside the house.
Chapter Eleven
Jake
Thedaypassedslowly.Probably, Jake figured, because he felt every single minute so intensely. His pain didn’t go away. He knew it wouldn’t help, but he tried a hefty dose of Advil just after lunch anyway, hoping it might take the edge off just enough.
By the time evening came, Jake could barely focus enough to put something together for dinner. If it’d just been him, he would have skipped dinner altogether. But he had a houseguest who needed to eat. So, just as the sun started to go down, Jake forced himself up onto his feet and limped from the couch into the kitchen, holding back a string of curses.
He’d make something very simple. Maybe grilled cheese sandwiches and chicken noodle soup, if he had the ingredients. It was relatively quick and easy, at least.
And although he hated the stuff, he almost,almostwished he just had canned soup. Because that would take two minutes to heat up rather than twenty minutes to cook.
