Rye nodded, finally, and Jake breathed a sigh of relief. Then he got out of the car, ignoring the stiffness and pain in his leg—yet again—and closed the door before limping around to the other side. Rye hadn’t moved, and it took Jake another couple of minutes to convince him it was going to be okay.
And actually, Jake wasn’t even sure he had Rye convinced. But at least Rye had gotten out of the car. He stood next to Jake, his much shorter frame hunched and tense, and he stared at the building, taking stilted, measured breaths.
“It’ll be okay,” Jake repeated, and then he finally gave in to that pull he’d felt several times now—the one that had him wishing he had some better way to comfort Rye—and very, very slowly reached out to set his hand on Rye’s back.
But even before his fingers came in contact with the coat Rye was wearing, Rye flinched and nearly jumped forward a step, shaking his head.
And Jake’s stomach twisted. He started to apologize, but then Rye took a step forward and then another. They were small steps, hesitating, yet they moved him forward, and this time, it was Jake who was following.
When they reached the building, Jake carefully moved ahead of Rye to open the door, and they both stepped inside. It was a small space and sparsely furnished, with just a bench near the doorway, a couple of desks in the main room, and two offices off to the left side.
Rye stopped a few feet in past the doorway, and Jake could see his hand had moved up again, crossed over his midsection to hold his opposite arm. He was gripping tightly, squeezing with some sort of pulse to it, like he was deliberately distracting himself. And although he’d lifted his eyes and was looking around the room, everything about him was tense.
“Alright, we made it, yeah?” Jake said gently, and just as he was about to suggest Rye take a seat so he could go find Rachel, a petite, middle-aged redheaded woman wearing the beige-and-olive-colored uniform of the Humboldt County Sheriff’s Department peeked her head out of the closer of the two offices.
“Heya, Jake and Jake’s friend. Good to see you finally made it!” she greeted as she stepped out of the office fully, leaving the door open behind her.
Jake gave her an awkward sort of half wave. “Hi, Rachel. How are you doing?”
“Ah, well, can’t complain, you know. Dad’s on his way over, but he was havin’ to make another stop on his way, so he’ll be a few. Hope that’s not a problem.”
Jake shook his head in response, and Rachel grinned and nodded, her bright green eyes jumping from Jake to Rye and then back again.
“Why don’t you both come on over and have a seat,” she suggested, motioning to one of the desks in the main room. “And then we’ll see how I can help you.”
Rye didn’t move for a count of three, but then he started walking again, his steps small and hesitant, like the ones he’d taken in from the car. His fuzzy pink-and-blue slippers shuffled across the carpet, and Jake struggled to not grimace at how out of place Rye looked, especially with the oversized, ill-fitted clothing he wore.
Jake followed right behind him, careful to leave enough space this time. And when they made it to the desk, Rachel moved around to the opposite side and sat down, then pulled a notepad and pen out of the desk drawer.
“Okie doke, hun, why don’t you go ahead and sit right there,” Rachel said to Rye, indicating to the single chair positioned on Jake and Rye’s side of the desk. Rachel looked down at the notepad and started to scribble something at the top. “Jake said you’re a bit lost and you’re trying to get home? What’s your name, hun?”
The office was silent except for the low hum of a heater unit and the scratch of Rachel’s pen on the notepad. When Rye didn’t answer after several seconds, Jake cleared his throat and took a small step forward.
“His name’s—”
“Ryan,” Rye cut in, his voice so quiet, Jake wasn’t sure he’d heard right. But then Rye closed his eyes and tucked his chin down against his chest and said, a little louder this time, “I’m Ryan Henry Davis.”
All the air left Jake’s lungs as decade-and-a-half-old memories slammed into him. He knew that name. He’d watched the news. Him and his dad and his sister, they’d huddled together in their living room, watching news story after news story. Day after day after day of the frantic search happening out along the coast for the boy who’d gone missing on his way home from school. Ryan Davis. Rye. The boy who’d been just a few years younger than Jake. Eight to Jake’s thirteen at the time.
Rachel’s eyes darted up from her notepad, and Jake knew she’d remembered too. Holy fuck, she’d... worked here then. Her eyes met his just as his stomach dropped with all the implications of everything, and Jake shook his head, not knowing what to say. She pursed her lips and looked back at Rye, straightening up as she seemed to study him.
“I’m sorry, hun, what was that?” she asked gently, as though she just couldn’t believe it, because, well... damn.
Rye didn’t look up, and this time, when he spoke, his voice caught in his throat. “R-Ryan Henry Davis.”
Holy. Shit.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rye
Ryehadplannedtosay many more words. He’d planned to explain who he was and how sorry he was for making the biggest, stupidest mistake ever in getting into the man’s car. He’d planned to beg the police officer lady to help find his mom, to explain that she used to live on Sycamore Avenue and how he hoped she still lived there and wanted to see him. He’d even planned to thank Jake for being so kind to him and bringing him to the police station.
But after he said his name once and then a second time, the weight on his chest became heavier and breathing became harder and his stomach felt awful, the years and years and years of being kept in silence—beingforcedinto silence—bearing down on him again.
“Ryan? You’re Ryan Davis?”
Jake’s kind, gentle voice saying his full name sent another wave of something through him, and he reached out toward the chair in front of him, gasping for breath as the room started to spin. Somehow, he managed a nod, and then everything around him seemed to be too loud and too bright. He heard the police officer lady’s voice again—what was her name? Rachel?—and then Jake’s voice, and they both sounded upset or something.
