“I...” Rye closed his eyes for a second, and when he opened them back up, there was a seriousness in them. “I want to thank you... both of you,” he said, and he lowered his gaze to where his hands sat in his lap. “Jake, you... saved me. I... can’t tell you how much that... means.”
A brilliant warmth and some feeling of tenderness spread through Jake’s chest, and he smiled softly. “I’m so grateful for your friendship, Rye.” His voice might have cracked a bit on the last few words, but he did his best to ignore it.
“Me too,” Rye said, and he blinked as though trying to keep his tears from falling. He turned to his mom. “And Mom, I...” A tear did fall then. One andthen another and another. And Rye seemed to have run out of words, too. He shook his head and then reached up to wipe his cheeks.
“Oh, sweetie, don’t cry,” Shirley said, even though she was clearly struggling with the same thing. She laughed lightly and then brushed the tears from her eyes. “Look at me, all cryin’ now too. Ryan, I—”
“I . . . love you, mama,” Rye cut in.
And Shirley couldn’t stop more tears from falling then, and she didn’t continue to try. She pushed herself up to stand, and a moment later, she and Rye were hugging. She murmured something into Rye’s ear that Jake couldn’t quite hear, but it didn’t matter. Jake’s heart probably couldn’t have been any more full in that moment. Hope mixed with more of that warmth and tenderness again. And it was a beautiful feeling and a beautiful sight.
Thedrivetohissister’s place in Sacramento was just over five hours, and by the time Jake arrived at about three o’clock, the weather had turned from crisp and sunny to overcast and breezy, with a chance of rain later that day.
He pulled up into the driveway of his sister’s modest single-story home and had barely just put his car into park when ten-year-old Phil came tumbling out of the house—literally. He did some cartwheel or something across the short walkway that connected the front porch to the driveway and then kicked up into a handstand and walked the rest of the way around the front of Jake’s car on his hands.
Jake grinned as he opened up his door. “Careful there, kiddo!”
“Uncle Jake! You made it!” Phil stepped down out of his handstand easily, like it wasn’t a big deal at all, and grabbed Jake’s hand, tugging him up out of the car. “Come on! Grandpa got here about an hour ago, and Mom’s been cooking all day, and I’m just soooooo bored! Will you playMario Kartwith me? Mom said we could, and it’ll be much more fun to play together in person. Oh, and—”
“Okay, okay, kiddo, slow down! Give me a second here.” Jake laughed and placed his hand on the roof of the car to steady himself. His leg was complaining from the trip—sitting and driving for over five hours with only the one break he’d taken hadn’t been the smartest idea. He took a breath and motioned to the back of his car. “Can you help with my overnight bag? It’s in the trunk.”
“Yes! You’re staying! Mom said you might! Of course I’ll help!”
Jake laughed to himself and shook his head. Then he leaned over to pop the trunk and let Phil lug in his bag. He followed as the eager boy led him into the house and then took off down the hallway to put Jake’s bag in the guest room. Before Jake could even close the door behind them, Krista barreled into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and pressing her cheek to his chest.
“Little brother, I’m so glad you could come.” Her voice broke, and Jake closed his eyes for a moment as he returned her embrace. She smelled like apple pie and lemon, and something about that just felt so comforting. He bent down a bit and buried his face in her auburn hair, and he squeezed her tighter.
“I missed you, Kris.”
His sister held him just as tight, and they were soon joined by Phil.
“Family hug!” Phil declared, wiggling his way in between Jake and Krista. “Grandpa! Uncle Jake is here!”
Jake laughed and pulled back a bit. His sister was looking up at him now, her brown eyes glistening with tears. She smiled at him and then reached up to touch his cheek.
“Gosh, you’re tall.”
Jake laughed. “You say that every time we see each other. Maybe I’m not tall. Maybe you’re just short.”
“Littlebrother, you’re at least what, six-foot-four? I’d say that’s tall by anyone’s measure.” Jake just shrugged, and Krista smiled, though it was a tight smile now. “I just... forget. And it’s been so long.”
Phil took off toward the kitchen, yelling “Grandpa!” one more time, and Jake watched him go as he leaned on his cane.
“I’m sorry I—”
“No, all that matters is that you’re here now, and we have a lot to catch up on. Dad’s got a new job, and Phil’s got some news for you too. And you look like you’re doing well after all the stuff that happened the last few weeks.” Krista frowned a bit and shook her head, and Jake could only nod and then pull her back into him for another hug, this one shorter than the last but no less meaningful.
“Iamgood, Kris,” he assured her finally, when they pulled apart. “Stiff, because I should have stopped on the drive a few more times to stretch. But I left Rye’s kinda late, and I didn’t want to be getting here after you’d already finished cooking.”
His sister’s eyes softened, and at the same time, her smile came back. She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, the double doors leading into the kitchen opened, and Phil burst out, tugging Jake and Krista’s dad along behind him.
Oren Wright grinned down at his grandson, his brown eyes sparkling, and he shook his head. “This kid never runs out of energy, does he?”
“Nope!” Phil answered, also grinning. “Uncle Jake, Grandpa says he’ll even giveMario Karta shot. Can we play? Please!”
Jake’s heart felt full as he met his dad’s eyes. After giving his dad a half-smile and a nod in acknowledgement, Jake turned to Phil. “Well, I’d say yes, but then who’s gonna help your mom finish cooking dinner if we’re all playing video games, kiddo?”
Phil frowned. “Mom, do you need help?”
