Then, the younger man lifted his eyes and looked right at Jake, his expression filled with some sort of deep uncertainty or something. It tugged at Jake’s heart.
“Is it okay?” Jake asked gently, and god, the response he got...
A smile. Arealsmile. Small, but unmistakable. And warm, bright, hopeful even.
Or maybe that was just Jake’s optimism.
Regardless, Ryedidsmile, and then he nodded. But then he dropped his eyes and bit his lip and lifted one hand out of his lap to fiddle with the edge of the table, tracing the lines in the wood for a second.
“I... like eggs.” Rye’s voice was soft and smooth and quiet. And oh so beautiful.
Jake wasn’t even sure where that last thought came from—how the man’s voice could sound beautiful. But it did. It sounded beautiful and precious, like something that needed to be treasured. He let a short breath escape him, and then he nodded.
“Ah, good. I’m glad to hear that. Me too, actually.”
At that, Jake was gifted with another small smile, though Rye sort of hid it quickly as he reached up to rub his eyes. Then, they both settled in to eat their breakfast. Jake finished his eggs and toast pretty quickly, and normally, he’d have his computer out to get started on emails and work for the day. Today, however, he had other things on his mind.
He sipped his tea slowly and tried not to be too obvious about the fact that he was watching his houseguest. His thoughts from the night before—all of his too-many questions—began swimming around in his head again, jumbled and out of order. But he closed his eyes and took a breath, letting everything settle.
The tea helped.
Rye was taking his last bite when Jake opened his eyes again, and Jake pursed his lips to hide his own smile as Rye used the last piece of his toast to wipe the edges of his plate, collecting the last few bits of his scrambled eggs.
Peculiar. But that was Rye, really.
Jake cleared his throat quietly, not wanting to startle Rye. Then he said, “I can make more, if you want.” With a smile, he glanced up to the counter. “Or we’ve still got a few cookies from that batch. Do you want one?”
When Rye didn’t answer, not even to shake his head, Jake frowned slightly. “No? Ah, well, I suppose cookies should only be eaten for breakfast once in a while, huh?”
It was a poor attempt to get a reaction, and Jake wasn’t surprised when Rye didn’t respond. It was okay, though. That wasn’t the important question anyway.
Jake’s chest tightened as he set down his mug. The important questions. He needed to ask them carefully. And make them easy to answer.
Don’t be a lunkhead. Don’t screw this up.God, he could almost hear Krista’s voice in his head. He nearly laughed at himself.
“So, uh, today is Tuesday,” he started, trying his best to keep his voice light and level. Rye frowned slightly and stared at his empty plate, his hands now in his lap. Jake imagined they might be clasped together, mirroring the tension that suddenly appeared in Rye’s face and jaw, but he couldn’t see. “The road isn’t going to be fixed for another few days, probably.”
Still no other visible reaction from Rye. Although maybe his breathing had faltered a bit. He was sitting so still, it was difficult for Jake to tell.
“I hope I’m not being too forward to ask, but... do you have a place to go? Somewhere I can take you when the road is passable?”
Rye’s eyes closed, and that tension in his jaw became even more obvious as he swallowed hard. He didn’t say anything, though. He didn’t nod or shake his head or offer Jake another one of his rare, precious words. He did, however, seem to shrink in on himself a bit, and that made Jake’s heart clench.
“You’re welcome to stay here longer if you need to,” Jake inserted quickly. Maybe a little too quickly. “I just...” God, what the hell was he supposed to say? Rye looked about one wrong phrase away from bolting. Jake swallowed slowly. “I just... don’t know what you need.”
No response. Jake’s heart thrummed a little louder.
“Are you... from around here?” Nothing. “Or, uh, do you have family nearby?”
Nothing. Except Rye’s eyes closing tighter. Shit.
“I’m sorry,” Jake said. He took a deep breath. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything, okay?”
Rye finally opened his eyes and met Jake’s gaze. His expression held so much. Pain. Uncertainty. Fear. Sadness. God, it was hard to look at. Rye dropped his chin again.
And all Jake wanted to do was comfort him. Make a silly joke to take away his pain and sadness. Say something reassuring that would ease whatever his fear and uncertainty were. But he couldn’t do that, because he had no idea what it was that was bothering the man in the first place.
“It’s okay,” he murmured instead, repeating words he knew he’d already said. “That’s okay. Um, just...” Rye’s eyes darted up very briefly before he looked back at his hands. Jake continued. “Whenever you decide what you need, you can tell me, okay?”
