Chapter 22 #2
Ru’s fingers tightened around his mug. He’d been here before.
Hadn’t he invested in someone who couldn’t or wouldn’t let him in fully, who’d maintained emotional distance?
Cooper, who’d been so self-absorbed even if Ru had chosen to pretend otherwise.
He’d been hurt, made to feel stupid, but he’d also made a quiet promise to himself to never make himself small again, or to be so damn accepting, even if it did scare the living daylights out of him.
He knew what he had to do because there was only one choice.
He wouldn’t demand explanations or issue ultimatums, he couldn’t make Jake tell him what had gone so wrong.
But he wouldn’t pretend, either. He wouldn’t act as though this morning had been casual or inconsequential, not when it felt like his whole world had shifted and changed.
Ru jumped to his feet before he could change his mind, abandoning his tepid tea.
His heart beat a little faster as he approached the stairs, a fluttering nervousness taking root in his stomach.
He wasn’t sure what he’d say, exactly, only that something needed to be said, a bridge extended across the sudden chasm between them.
The stairs creaked beneath his feet as he climbed, following the sounds of movement now coming from the hallway near Jake’s bedroom. He found Jake there, positioned beneath an open attic hatch, one foot braced on the first rung of a small stepladder placed beneath it.
“Need help?”
Jake’s eyes widened for a split second. “No, it’s fine, but thanks for offering.”
Jake disappeared into the attic. Ru remained where he was, fidgeting with the cuff of his borrowed jumper, rehearsing and discarding openings for the conversation he dreaded.
Why are you so distant?
Too accusatory.
Are you okay?
Too vague.
Did I do something wrong?
Too self-centred, putting Jake in the position of having to reassure him.
Nothing felt right, because nothing was right.
The minutes stretched, filled with the muffled sounds of Jake moving around.
Ru’s nervousness grew with each passing moment, his resolve wavering.
Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he should just retreat, wait out the weather, then leave.
Put it all down to a strange, unexpected blip in his life, forget it and carry on as though nothing had happened.
But something had happened. And he would never, ever, be able to forget any of it.
At last, Jake came down from the attic. “You didn’t need to wait here.”
“I disagree.”
Jake’s eyes widened before he ducked his head and folded the ladder. “All dry,” he muttered, “at least for now.”
Ru couldn’t even pretend interest in the state of the attic. He took a breath, steadying himself. “Can we talk?”
Jake’s hands stilled on the ladder, his back to Ru, his shoulders visibly tensing.
“About?” The single word held a wariness that made Ru’s chest ache.
“This morning, and what’s happened since.”
Jake said nothing. The silence stretched between them, taut and thrumming with tension. Jake exhaled, a sound so soft Ru almost missed it.
“Downstairs,” he said, turning to face Ru, his expression somehow both guarded and resigned. He pushed his fingers through his hair. “I need a drink for this conversation.”
In the living room, Jake poured two whiskies before he sat on the opposite end of the sofa to Ru and stared into the glass, his shoulders stiff looking and hunched.
Ru said nothing, gripping his own glass tight to stop his hands from shaking.
“I don’t regret it.” Jake’s words were sudden and abrupt, cutting through the silence. “What happened between us. I need you to know that.”
The knot in Ru’s chest loosened slightly. “Okay,” he said cautiously. “Good. Because from where I’m sitting, it’s felt a lot like regret since we woke up.”
Jake’s gaze remained glued to his glass, avoiding Ru’s eyes. “I don’t know what comes next. Or whether there should even be a next.”
“There doesn’t have to be.” The words felt like glass in Ru’s mouth. “If that’s what you want.” Ru cleared his throat, attempting to clear the wobble in his voice. Maybe one moment was really all it was to Jake.
Jake’s eyes finally lifted to meet his, something vulnerable and conflicted in their depths. “I didn’t say that.”
“Then what are you saying?”
Jake’s gaze drifted to the fire. “I don’t believe I’m meant to be with anyone. I’m solitary by nature and that’s not a good foundation for… anything else.”
Ru took a sip of the whisky, needing the quick hit of Dutch courage. He put the drink down on the coffee table, the glass clattering from his trembling hand. His heartbeat quickened, his mouth going dry with apprehension.
“Why do you live out here on your own, Jake? Why did you leave the army? Who was it who hurt you?”
Jake’s fingers tightened around his glass, knuckles whitening with the pressure.
Ru clamped his lower lip between his teeth, afraid suddenly he’d asked too much, pushed too hard. “You don’t have to tell me. Not if you’re not ready.” But he had asked, and it was too late to take the questions back.
“You’re right, I’m not ready.” The bitterness in his voice made Ru twitch.
“But if not now, then when?” He looked at Ru, his eyes bright and feverish, with anger and pain.
“If the rain keeps up, the roads will soon clear. Unless the storm returns. You’ll continue onto Bobblecombe, and then go back to London.
And this,” he flicked his hand between them, “this will become something that happened during a storm. A memory, nothing more.”
The stark assessment hit Ru hard in the chest. Is that what Jake thought? That once the roads cleared, whatever connection they’d formed would simply dissolve like the snow, become nothing more than an anecdote, a brief interlude in otherwise separate lives?
“Is that what you want?” Ru asked, unable to keep the hurt from his voice. “For this to be just a memory?”
“What I want,” Jake said carefully, “and what I believe possible are two different things.”
The words hung between them. Ru’s pulse quickened, hope and apprehension mingling inside of him. Before he could respond, Jake continued, his voice dropping to barely a whisper.
“You want to know what happened,” he said, each quiet word measured and steady. “About why I live here alone, and why.” He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “You want to know about him.”
Him.
Ru felt himself poised on the edge of something significant, a story that would illuminate the shadows he’d sensed in Jake from the beginning. Whatever Jake was about to share, it was the key to understanding not only Jake’s withdrawal, but to understanding Jake himself.
Jake sat up straight, squaring his shoulders as if preparing for battle.
“His name was Phil,” Jake began, the four simple words opening a door to a past Ru had hammered on.
Outside, the rain continued to fall, little by little washing away the snow, transforming the landscape. Inside, Ru held his breath, watching Jake’s face, waiting for what would come next.