Undernocircumstanceswashe going to do it. It would be the worst idea. And he knew that.
Yet Jake stood at the top of the steps on the patio, holding onto the railing as he stared longingly at the water below. The tide was low, exposing the arc of beach heading south along the cliff face, and the light breeze coming off the ocean just called him. That, plus the beautiful, bright Wednesday morning sunshine and the fact that he hadn’t been back down to the beach since Saturday...
God, he just reallyneeded—
He closed his eyes, let out a sharp breath, and turned away. No, he didn’tneedit. What heneededwas to not screw his leg up more. What heneededwas to wait just a couple more days until he could get into town to get his medicine and buy a new cane. Because the next time hewasable to go down those stairs to the beach, he was going toneedthat little extra assurance that having a cane would give him.
It would be really, really stupid to head down there without it. And he knew it.
That didn’t stop him from feeling frustrated about it, though.
Jake sighed and hobbled the few steps over to his patio sofa, then dropped down into his favorite spot—one that gave him the absolute best view of the cliffs and beach and water to the south. He pulled his coat tighter around him, because despite the sunshine, it was chilly, and he gazed out at the water, watching the waves break, their white foam washing up along the shore and disappearing again in predictable patterns.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, letting his mind get lost. He watched the waves and catalogued each dolphin and seal and seabird he saw. And he followed the shadows receding along the cliff face as the sun rose up a little higher in the sky. It was all a huge, welcome reprieve from the circles he’d been running around and around and around. All the questions he had,still, about his houseguest. And itwas another of those distractions he so desperately needed from the pain in his leg.
The pain wasn’t really getting any better, but it also didn’t seem to be getting worse, and he thought that was probably a good thing. He’d been able to do his exercises again that morning, and he’d cooked breakfast—cutting himself down to only one egg when he’d realized they were actually getting low. He’d even managed to do the dishes and take the trash and compost out to the outside bins.
That was probably all he had in him for the day. Or rather, he shouldn’t push himself to do anything else physical, if he could avoid it.
And that included being an idiot and trying to go down to the beach.
He laughed at himself, though he was glad that, for once, he seemed to have some sense to do the responsible thing, and he glanced back toward the house for just a second before turning to the ocean again. As far as he knew, Rye was still sitting in his corner—the spot he’d chosen for whatever reason. Even though Jake had somehow managed to get Rye to sit on the couch both to watch the documentary and to play that single round ofMario Kartwith his nephew, that “progress” (if that was what it could be called) hadn’t really stuck, and as soon as they’d finished dinner last night, Rye had scooted right back into the corner, his knees hugged up to his chest like they were protecting him somehow, his eyes wary and unsure.
And he hadn’t spoken again. Which Jake was kind of starting to worry about. Or, worrymoreabout, that was.
He just really wished he knew whatever it was he needed to know to help Rye as best he could. But Rye was a mystery, and none of the little fragments of information Jake had been trying to piece together seemed to make much sense.
It was as though Jake was missing something big, and the only for-sure thing—the only thing that he reallyknewby now—was that whatever Rye had been through had been awful. Wherever Rye had been, wherever he had come from, Jake never wanted him to have to go back.
Behind him, the quiet sound of the patio door opening was followed by slow, tentative footsteps, and Jake turned just enough to see Rye walking carefully across the patio, staring out to the ocean. The man’s hands were tucked under his arms, probably to help keep them warm, and the ocean breeze blew his loose blond hair back off his face. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes were wide and bright, and Jake could almost feel his wonder.
Rye stepped right up to the railing and stood there, his gaze drawn out to the water. It wasn’t more than a few seconds later that his eyes widened even further, and he pulled his hands out from under his arms to grip the railing, leaning forward as his mouth parted in amazement.
There was a small tug in Jake’s chest, warm and bright. He understood that wonder, that pull toward the ocean, that awe. He grinned and sat up a little straighter as he followed the line of Rye’s gaze out beyond the beach. “What do you see?” he asked quietly.
After a few seconds, a dolphin surfaced maybe a few hundred feet from the shore, its two-toned gray dorsal fin barely becoming visible before disappearing back into the water again. Two more dolphins surfaced, and then another, obviously part of a small pod traveling north along the coast.
He heard Rye suck in a breath, and when he looked back at the man again, Rye was still leaning forward over the railing, his eyes glued out on the water.
“That’s a pod of Pacific white-sided dolphins. They’re pretty common around here,” Jake explained. He paused and glanced back out at the water. The dolphins surfaced again, farther up the coastline now. “You haven’t seen them before?”
Rye seemed to hesitate, and he ducked his chin. “M-maybe.”
“I see them all the time from here. But it still seems magical to me.” Jake let his gaze drift up the coast.
The dolphins were out of view—or at least, he couldn’t see them anymore from where he sat—but the ocean itself sparkled and gleamed, its deep blue dotted with flecks of white waves and reflected sunlight. Contentment came with the view. Contentment and some other feeling of peacefulness. He cleared his throat lightly and looked at Rye again. The man was watching him now, and there was an intense curiosity in his eyes, although it was mostly hidden behind reservation and anxiety.
“Every time I see them, it’s a treasure,” Jake said slowly. “They have an entire vast ocean to swim through, and yet, they’re right here, right along my short, insignificant stretch of coastline. It’s . . .” He paused, searching for the right words. Then he smiled. “It’s just something very special. That’s all.”
Rye’s brow had furrowed, and he bit his lip as he seemed to be thinking about what Jake had said. He turned back to the water without responding, however, and Jake also sat back more into the sofa cushions, closing his eyes and trying to relax.
But it was tough, given the pain in his leg and the circles his brain was running. Mostly the latter. Rye hadn’t spoken all morning until just now. And his first word of the day—Maybe—was just about as confusing as everything else had been.
It didn’t really clarify anything. In fact, it just made even more questions come to mind.
He opened his eyes partway. Rye was still standing there at the railing, watching the ocean. Only now, his shoulders looked tense, and his jaw was tight.
“Rye,” Jake said, and though he hadn’t meant it, his tone was maybe just slightly... gruff. He frowned and silently scolded himself when Rye flinched. When he started again, he made sure his voice was softer and quieter. “Sorry, um, I need to ask you some questions. Will you come and sit?”
