Chapter Twenty-One
Jake
“That’sit,that’sit.Think you can do two more?”
Rye shook his head and then collapsed onto the ground and rolled over onto his back with a groan.
Jake chuckled as he lowered himself onto his back as well. “You did great. Push-ups aren’t easy. Doing even a few in a row is more than a lot of people can do.”
He turned his head to look at Rye, who was pushing himself up to sit. Rye had been wide awake this morning when Jake had gotten up, and after a little coaxing, he’d agreed to try some of Jake’s exercises with him. Jake was grateful; it was something to keep Rye’s mind off whatever was going to happen that afternoon.
And admittedly, Jake was feeling anxious about it too.
All day Thursday, he’d been on and off the phone. He’d called Sue to set up a checkup for himself since he wouldn’t be able to see his physical therapist for at least another week. Sue also managed the small pharmacy at her medical clinic, and she’d confirmed that his prescription was ready and that she’d received the special cane he’d asked her to order for him. Later in the day, he’d called the post office to see when he could pick up his mail, since they hadn’t been able to deliver it for nearly a week. And he’d called his sister, of course.
But all the while, he’d been waiting—he and Rye had both been waiting, really—for an update from Tim. It had finally come late in the day, and with good news.
The road would be passable by early afternoon today, Friday.
Today, he’d be able to do what he’d told Rye he would. What he’d promised Rye he would.
He’d be able to help Rye get home.
Rye was silent now, as he had been most of the day yesterday and all of the morning so far, and he’d scooted back to rest against the wall in the position he always sat—with his knees pulled up to his chest.
“You feel up to trying another set while I do my PT stuff?” Jake asked. “I bet you can do a few more.”
When Rye frowned and shook his head, Jake laughed again. “Yeah, I don’t blame you. The push-ups are probably my least favorite.”
Jake rested his head back on the floor, looking up at the ceiling. Then he bent his knee on his good leg, and, keeping his bad leg straight, he lifted it up slowly until his foot was about level with his knee. He closed his eyes against the aching throb in his thigh and repeated the motion. Three sets of ten reps, if he could handle it.
It was rough today—not just the pain but also an odd sort of weakness in his hip that had him worried. Nevertheless, he pushed on. He finished all of his physical therapy exercises and massage in about a half hour, as usual, with Rye watching silently from his spot against the wall. Then, when he was done, he closed his eyes for a beat.
Breakfast.
He had to make breakfast. Then he needed to take a shower and write up a shopping list. He should probably start a load of laundry too.
And he needed to make one more phone call. He needed to call the police station.
He needed to call and talk to Police Chief Wayne Harris or Lieutenant Rachel Eisenberg and let them know he’d be bringing Rye in. He wasn’t sure why that made him so worried, but as he turned his head to look at Rye, his eyes landing on the nowalmost-healed gash and slight discoloration from the bruising on Rye’s cheek, Jake felt a coil of something uncomfortable in his stomach.
He’d been dealing with the feeling for the last couple of days, and he knew it was probably just concern. Rye’s situation was still so much of a mystery, and until he was sure Rye was safe and comfortable, he didn’t really expect the unease to go anywhere.
Even once they got to the police station, there would still be the matter of finding the place Rye called home. Where was it? And when they found it, would there be someone there who loved him? Someone to help him and take care of him?
Rye frowned slightly, his arms tightening around his knees, and Jake realized he’d been staring. He shook his head and blinked away his unease.
“Sorry, I was just thinking. Are you hungry? We’ve got two eggs left, and they’re all yours if you want,” Jake offered, bending his elbows and then pushinghimself up into a sitting position. “Or...” He trailed off and glanced toward the patio briefly, remembering lunch two days before. How Rye had closed his eyes lightly as he’d taken a sip of the strawberry and banana smoothie Jake had made. Then the small but not insignificant smile that had brightened up his face. Jake turned back to Rye and said softly, “I can make you another smoothie if you want.”
And there it was, that small hint of a smile again. Rye’s gaze dropped down to the floor in front of him, but he nodded slightly, his cheeks tinged light pink, maybe with embarrassment. Jake grinned and said a quick “Smoothies it is.” Then he let his eyes linger for just a second longer before he shifted his focus to standing up.
With a quiet groan, he bent his bad leg under himself and then pushed himself up to his feet, stumbling slightly when pain shot through his hip. He reached out and set his hand on the wall to steady himself, shaking his head. God, he was in poor shape.
Taking a deep breath, Jake forced his eyes back open. He had other things to worry about today, other more important things. Like Rye, who now stood just a few feet away, his arms crossed low over his midsection and his shoulders hunched. He looked concerned too.
“I... can help,” Rye said in his beautiful, soft voice.
“With... breakfast? You want to help with breakfast?” Jake asked to clarify, and when Rye nodded, his movement tentative as though he wasn’treallysure, Jake’s heart ached in his chest. The offer was so kind, and the gift of hearing Rye’s voice was still so precious. He managed another smile and carefully pushed himself away from the wall. “I’d appreciate that,” he said. Then he tilted his head toward the kitchen. “Shall we?”
