“You’re okay. I’m sorry to startle you.” More soft words, said in a kind, gentle voice. “The nurse I spoke with on the phone said I need to keep you warm and check your vitals—your heart rate and breathing and temperature. And I need to treat the wound on your cheek. I’m sorry I didn’t explain that first. Is that okay with you?”
Rye swallowed hard and shook his head.No.If he had a choice, which the man seemed to be suggesting, then the answer was a firm no. He doubted he really had a choice, though. That wasn’t how things worked.
“Ah, okay,” Jake said slowly. There was a brief pause. “That’s okay, that’s okay. You’re allowed to say no.”
A sharp, ragged breath left his lips. That wasn’t the answer he’d expected, and he didn’t quite know how to respond, except to not respond at all. Instead, Rye pulled the blanket up to his chin and scrunched his eyes shut tighter.
“Tell you what, I’m going to grab some clothes for you—they’ll be too big, but that’s better than nothing. And then I’m supposed to try to get you to drink something warm. Do you like coffee? Or tea, maybe?”
Lemon tea with honey.
The discomfort in his chest grew as Rye held his breath again.
“Hey, now, no pressure,” Jake said quickly, almost as though he could sense Rye’s unease. There was a pained grunt and a cough and then footsteps, the same heavy, uneven ones he’d heard earlier, as Jake spoke again, his voice now farther away. “I’ll make tea, and if you want some, you can have it. Otherwise, you know, just rest.”
Just rest.
Rye opened his eyes, this time moving his head just enough to catch sight of Jake leaving the room. He immediately buried his head under the blanket as all the breath left his lungs.
God, the man washuge. Tall and strong-looking, with a head of thick, dark hair and a full beard.
And—and—he’d left the door open. All the way.
Rye peeked over the top of the blanket toward the open door, his stomach churning. He heard the footsteps recede, then some rustling, sounds maybe of a drawer opening, and then the footsteps again, coming back this time. He bit his lip, hard, and felt himself start to shake. A moment later, the man stood in the doorway, holding a bundle of clothing. Rye huddled more under the blanket as the figure limped toward him.
“Here you go.” Jake set the clothes at the end of the bed and didn’t step any closer. Rye vaguely wondered if he could hear Rye’s heart pounding in his chest. With a gentle nod, Jake backed up a step. “Take your time getting dressed, and I’ll make that tea, okay? Are you hungry?”
Starving.
He didn’t answer, but he blinked his eyes closed and willed his heart to stop racing.
“Okay. I’ll bring the tea when it’s ready. You just rest, okay?”
The footsteps retreated, and then there was a quiet click as the door closed. And Rye’s hands flew up and covered his mouth to muffle his cry.
Chapter Five
Jake
Jakesatatthekitchen table while the tea steeped, and he lowered his head into his hands, blowing out a long breath.
God. What a mess. A sad, terrifying mess.
The young man—who wouldn’t tell Jake his name—had woken up. That was huge, wonderful news, and Jake had felt such immense relief.
But that relief hadn’t lasted long.
The man was obviously afraid. Scared and afraid. And probably ill. His coughing fit had nearly had Jake back on the phone with Sue, who ran the small medical clinic in town.
Shit. If the young man had pneumonia or something, what the hell would they do then? The road was apparently not passable thanks to the rain, so Jake would have no way to get the young man into town to get checked by Sue. At the bare minimum, the man needed careful monitoring of his temperature and vitals, but he’d outright refused.
Jake stared at the two mugs of tea sitting on the table in front of him, watching the steam rise up. Then he pushed himself back to his feet, even though he desperately needed more time to rest, and he hobbled over to the kitchen cupboard, gritting his teeth against the pain in his leg.
He hated it, but he could already feel the pain wasn’t going to just go away. At least not anytime soon. He’d pushed too hard—out of necessity, of course—and if he didn’t do something, he’d probably not be able to walk tomorrow. And if the young man was still here then, that would just make an awkward situation even worse.
So Jake opened up the cupboard and pushed away a row of random spices. Then he grabbed the small orange pill bottle hidden in the back and shook the bottle.
It was empty.
