She wanted to see him? Really? His heart raced faster, and some dizzy, lightheaded feeling hit him, making the room around him sway, even though he was still seated.
Mom?
God, his voice wouldn’t even work to say that one word now. Would she care? Would she care if he couldn’t talk? If he couldn’t sayI’m sorryandI love youandI missed you so much? And would she care that he...really,reallywasn’t her little baby boy anymore? He was taller and older, and even when hecouldtalk, his voice was different. And he’d fucked up and—
“Ryan?”
Something inside him broke open, every question and doubt cracking under the sweet sound of her voice.
Mom.
“Here, Rye.” Jake’s hand slipped under his arm, and the next thing he knew, he was standing up, his legs shaking and weak.
And then the most wonderful, wonderful warmth surrounded him as two smaller arms encircled his waist. He smelled cookies and bread and lemon, sweetness and warmth together, and it felt suddenly so, so familiar.
She was crying as she hugged him, crying and saying something that he couldn’t hear, and then her hands were on his cheeks, wiping away his own tears. She lifted his chin just slightly so he was looking down at her.
His mom.
He took in all the details—the deep lines of wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, the redness on her cheeks, the streaks of gray in her dark-blonde hair, which she had pulled back into a messy bun. It was her; not her from his memory, exactly. But he still knew it was her.
She’d grown older, just like he had. It seemed impossible, but time hadn’t frozen the day he’d disappeared.
She squinted as though studying him, but there wasn’t even the smallest hint of anything even close to uncertainty in her eyes. Just the same look she’d always had. The same look he now remembered from forever ago. The same love.
“Ryan, my beautiful boy, I missed you so, so much.”
I’m so sorry, Mom. I missed you too. I love you. Please...
He tried to blink away his tears, but they just fell in warm, wet streaks down his face, and his mom’s thumbs swept lightly across his cheeks once more, brushing them away. She shook her head as she looked slightly up at him.
Then she hugged him again, her head coming to rest against his cheek, and he closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair and wrapped his arms around her as a fresh sob escaped him.
And finally,finally, he managed to choke out one word, rough and stuttering.
“M-Mom?”
His mom held him tighter. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, it’s me, sweetie. It’s me. It’s me.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jake
NothingcouldhavepreparedJake for the overwhelming emotions he’d felt watching the scene unfold in front of him. Hell, nothing could have prepared him for the entire last half hour or the entire last week. But watching Shirley Davis’s tears as she’d hugged her son for the first time in fifteen years . . .
Yeah. Nothing could haveeverprepared him for that.
He’d known Shirley since he’d moved to town five years ago, but he’d had no idea she was the mother of the young boy who’d gone missing in 2009, disappeared as he’d been walking home from school. And that... that was also unbelievable.
Rye was Ryan Henry Davis.TheRyan Henry Davis that Jake so clearly remembered hearing about, watching news stories about.
The knots in Jake’s stomach twisted more as he stood off to the side of the room, watching Rye bury his head into his mom’s messy hair, his whole body trembling with sobs. It wasn’t lost on Jake that the last time Rye had hugged his mom, he’d probably barely reached the top of her shoulders, if that. Now, Rye was two or three inches taller than her. An adult. An adult who’d had his childhood stolen right out from under him.
And it also wasn’t lost on Jake how incredibly, incredibly huge this moment was.
He’d had no idea. No fucking idea. Even his wildest speculations over the last week hadn’t brought him anywherenearthis truth.
Rachel and Sue stood back from Shirley and Rye several feet, tears in their eyes. Sue’s hand covered her mouth, and she was shaking her head lightly, just watching. Wayne had his arms crossed over his chest as he half sat on one of the desks. And hell, evenhelooked misty-eyed.
