Birds chirped outside, a bunch of different ones making sounds that seemed familiar and comforting. He’d been focusing on that for a while, picking out each different sound and just listening quietly, his eyes lightly closed, when there was a gentle knock at his door.
Rye managed not to react, and he knew he should probably consider that a win in some way. But the fact that he couldn’t open his eyes and look up, even though heknewit was just his mom there, and the fact that his chest suddenly felt heavy and tight sure didn’t feel like wins.
“Good morning, my beautiful boy.” Her voice was soft and sweet, and it hurt, how much hewantedto feel comforted by it.
He forced his eyes open and up and made himself look at her, fighting every one of those awful thoughts, every one of those rotten words. Fighting against the panic rooted deep in his gut.
She stood there in the doorway, one hand resting on the doorframe, and she smiled at him. Her eyes, misty but bright, were filled with some happiness that Rye only wished he could feel. And it did help.
“Hi, Mom,” he said, but he thought maybe he sounded unsure, like it was a question. He closed his eyes and lowered his forehead back to his knees.
Good morning. It’s the best morning in so long because I’m here with you.He meant it, even if he couldn’t say it, and even if he was fighting against everything jumbled up in his brain.
“Rachel just texted me asking if we can go back to the police station around ten. Answer more questions and all.” His mom paused, and he made himself look up at her again. She was still smiling, but it was sadder now or worried, maybe, and he definitely didn’t like that.
So he forced a small nod and then made himself speak again. “O-okay.” And even though it was just one more word, and a pathetic, stuttering word at that, his mom’s smile softened, and that sadness in her eyes fell away a bit.
“Wonderful. And I thought we might stop at the store before we go. That’s... that’s where I work now, at the general store. Do you remember it?”
He bit his lip hard and tried not to react again except to shake his head.
“That’s okay, sweetie,” his mom said. She stepped forward a bit into the room and then hesitated for a second before coming the rest of the way over to the bed and sitting just at the edge. “I work there now. At the general store, I mean. And we’ve got this nice secondhand clothing section that’s got at least some basic clothes and shoes that might fit you, so we can return Jake’s stuff to him? And maybe later next week, or when you’re feeling up to it, we can drive up to Eureka and get you... well, whatever you need. How does all that sound?”
Like something a normal twenty-three-year-old should be able to handle.
He wouldn’t have said the words, even if he’d been able to, though he did force a short nod in response. His stomach was already in knots just thinking about it—both about the fact that going out meant being around people, which terrified him, and about the fact that he had absolutely nothing. No clothes, no shoes, no socks, no comb for his hair or razor to shave, no coat, no wallet or money. All things an adult should have, he assumed. And he didn’t have a job and didn’t know how to drive, and he probably couldn’t read or write or do math.
A tiny sliver of a thought fought against the negativity, though, telling him that he could still learn all these things, that he wasn’t helpless or hopeless. Jake had even taught him a bunch of things, like how to make tea and how to crack and cook eggs and how to playMario Kart. And he’d learned. Pretty quickly, actually.
The memory made him smile a little, which kind of felt really, really good. And when he glanced back up at his mom, she was smiling softly too.
“Great,” she said. “I’ll make us some breakfast, and then—”
“Eggs?” he cut in quickly, surprising himself maybe as much as he surprised his mom.
She paused, her eyes widening, and then she was blinking back tears. “Scrambled?”
He nodded right away, and he swallowed hard and said, “I... can help.”
“You want... to help make the eggs?” At Rye’s nod, his mom sucked in a breath and pursed her lips. A tear ran down her cheek, and he frowned. She just wiped it away and shook her head. “Of course, sweetie. Of course you can help. I’d love that.”
She shook her head again and brushed away another few tears as she stood. Then she sniffled a bit and gave him a small, hopeful smile. He could feel its warmth, her love and support, and he tried his best to smile back, wanting to give her the same.
“Okay, sweetie, come on. Let’s go make breakfast, huh?”
With another nod, he slowly pushed the blanket off of himself, scooted over to the edge of the bed, and lowered his feet to the floor, sliding them into the fuzzy pink-and-blue slippers Jake had let him borrow the day before. Then his mom reached out, and he took her hand and let her lead him into the kitchen so they could make breakfast. Together.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jake
Hisphonerangatsix, and the knock at his door came at almost exactly six thirty, just as he’d finished swallowing the last bite of the very last piece of toast he had in the house. A haggard-looking Wayne escorted in a group of three detectives from the Humboldt County Sheriff’s Department, who spent a good hour grilling him on the events of the last week and then another two hours exploring his property, including the beach and surrounding forest area.
Although he wasn’t happy about it, Jake decided not to join them when they headed down the stairs to the beach; he’d taken another pill that morning, and though it had helped alleviate the worst of his pain, Sue’s warning that he should take it easy and be careful stuck in his mind. In the end, he’d opted out and stayed up on the patio, watching as they’d searched and photographed what seemed like every square foot of the beach, the rocky cliffs, and the nearby forest.
They finished and left just before ten, with instructions for him to come down to the station later to sign a formal statement and talk to Roscoe from the FBI, who would be in at about ten thirty. The restful sleep Jake had gotten overnight seemed like some distant dream, and he hesitated at the cupboard for only a few seconds before opting for coffee rather than tea as his morning beverage.
Forty-five minutes later, after having showered, dressed, and driven back into town, with a brief stop at the post office to pick up his mail, including his new cell phone, Jake leaned heavily on his new cane as he stood in the entryway of the police station.
