“Rye...” he started, but his voice cracked a little, and he cleared his throat to start over. Rye didn’t move. “Rye, I want to help you, okay? You’re safe here. I want you to know that. And I promise, you’re—”
Rye’s hands flew up to cover his head, which he buried down into his knees, and he started sobbing and trembling again.
Shit.
Jake clenched his jaw and forced a slow breath. God, he was awful at this—this whatever he was trying to do. Or he’d just said something that was triggering, maybe? Sort of like when he’d cursed the other day and Rye had reacted so strongly to it.
He knew how trauma responses worked, in general, that was. And he’d had enough of his own reactions to things over the last few years, especially when he’d been stubborn enough to try getting back on a boat again. That had been rough. But this... this was worse.
“I’m sorry, Rye,” he said softly, hoping to start over, again.
But it seemed like maybe Rye didn’t hear him. Or maybe Ryecouldn’thear him. He was shaking and shivering, and his hands still covered his head, as though he were trying to protect himself. From what, Jake hadn’t the faintest clue.
“I’m so sorry,” Jake murmured again.
And again, Rye didn’t respond.
So Jake just sat there silently for a few minutes, lost and unsure. He’d never felt so helpless before. So helpless and so inept. When a cold breeze blew in off the ocean, he shuddered and folded his arms over his chest to try to stave off the chill. It didn’t really work, but that was the least of his worries.
He wanted to help. Wanted to make things better. Yet he hadn’t, had he? The rational part of his mind reminded him that he actually had done a lot to help,and he could almost hear his sister’s voice in his head as he imagined what she might say. Rye had obviously been through something traumatic. Somethingverytraumatic. And although it had been slow, Jakehadmade progress in getting Rye to trust him.
He just hated that he’d managed to hurt Rye again. Something he’d said had hurt, somehow. He turned his words over and over, trying to figure out what it might have been. But all he’d said was that Rye was safe. And he’d been about to promise that he’d help Rye get home. But he hadn’t gotten all the words out...
From inside the house, the phone rang. Rye flinched, and his eyes darted up to find Jake’s, fear etched deep in his expression. Jake gave him a small smile and then glanced at his watch, careful to not frown.
“That’s probably my editor. We’re supposed to have a meeting.” Jake left off the part where the meeting was supposed to be a video call on Zoom and was supposed to have started over five minutes ago. Keeping his tone light, he tipped his head toward the house. “I’ve gotta head inside, okay? But we can talk later. I’d like to talk later. Can we do that?”
Once more, Rye didn’t respond. He just closed his eyes and rested his forehead back on his knees.
And Jake’s shattered heart ached even more as he stood and limped slowly into the house.
Chapter Twenty
Rye
Ryecouldn’tstoptrembling.Even after Jake left and went inside and Rye was alone. Even when he tried over and over to remind himself of where he was. Even when the cool, fresh ocean breeze ruffled his hair and the sounds of the waves echoed up from the beach below.
He still couldn’t stop. Because the voice in his head—the man’s voice—wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop, and, worse, it kept overlapping with Jake’s words.
“Hey, kiddo, you look lost. Want a ride home?”
God, he did. He wanted to go home. All he’deverwanted was to go home. Back then and right now. He just wanted to go home.
He tried to breathe, but his chest was too heavy and too tight. And it hurt.
“Wait, there it was! That was my street. Sycamore. You just passed it. Turn around, and—”
“Shut the fuck up, kid. I know where the fuck you live. We’re going somewhere else. You just be a good little boy, keep your fuckin’ mouth closed, and I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
I won’t hurt you.
I promise.
Promise.
I promise.
Rye gasped for breath, flashes of the same two rotten memories ripping through him with crystal clarity.
