Pieces of Home

20. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

Jake

Under no circumstances was he going to do it. It would be the worst idea. And he knew that.

Yet Jake stood at the top of the steps on the patio, holding onto the railing as he stared longingly at the water below. The tide was low, exposing the arc of beach heading south along the cliff face, and the light breeze coming off the ocean just called him. That, plus the beautiful, bright Wednesday morning sunshine and the fact that he hadn’t been back down to the beach since Saturday...

God, he just really needed —

He closed his eyes, let out a sharp breath, and turned away. No, he didn’t need it. What he needed was to not screw his leg up more. What he needed was to wait just a couple more days until he could get into town to get his medicine and buy a new cane. Because the next time he was able to go down those stairs to the beach, he was going to need that little extra assurance that having a cane would give him.

It would be really, really stupid to head down there without it. And he knew it.

That didn’t stop him from feeling frustrated about it, though.

Jake sighed and hobbled the few steps over to his patio sofa, then dropped down into his favorite spot—one that gave him the absolute best view of the cliffs and beach and water to the south. He pulled his coat tighter around him, because despite the sunshine, it was chilly, and he gazed out at the water, watching the waves break, their white foam washing up along the shore and disappearing again in predictable patterns.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, letting his mind get lost. He watched the waves and catalogued each dolphin and seal and seabird he saw. And he followed the shadows receding along the cliff face as the sun rose up a little higher in the sky. It was all a huge, welcome reprieve from the circles he’d been running around and around and around. All the questions he had, still , about his houseguest. And it was another of those distractions he so desperately needed from the pain in his leg.

The pain wasn’t really getting any better, but it also didn’t seem to be getting worse, and he thought that was probably a good thing. He’d been able to do his exercises again that morning, and he’d cooked breakfast—cutting himself down to only one egg when he’d realized they were actually getting low. He’d even managed to do the dishes and take the trash and compost out to the outside bins.

That was probably all he had in him for the day. Or rather, he shouldn’t push himself to do anything else physical, if he could avoid it.

And that included being an idiot and trying to go down to the beach.

He laughed at himself, though he was glad that, for once, he seemed to have some sense to do the responsible thing, and he glanced back toward the house for just a second before turning to the ocean again. As far as he knew, Rye was still sitting in his corner—the spot he’d chosen for whatever reason. Even though Jake had somehow managed to get Rye to sit on the couch both to watch the documentary and to play that single round of Mario Kart with his nephew, that “progress” (if that was what it could be called) hadn’t really stuck, and as soon as they’d finished dinner last night, Rye had scooted right back into the corner, his knees hugged up to his chest like they were protecting him somehow, his eyes wary and unsure.

And he hadn’t spoken again. Which Jake was kind of starting to worry about. Or, worry more about, that was.

He just really wished he knew whatever it was he needed to know to help Rye as best he could. But Rye was a mystery, and none of the little fragments of information Jake had been trying to piece together seemed to make much sense.

It was as though Jake was missing something big, and the only for-sure thing—the only thing that he really knew by now—was that whatever Rye had been through had been awful. Wherever Rye had been, wherever he had come from, Jake never wanted him to have to go back.

Behind him, the quiet sound of the patio door opening was followed by slow, tentative footsteps, and Jake turned just enough to see Rye walking carefully across the patio, staring out to the ocean. The man’s hands were tucked under his arms, probably to help keep them warm, and the ocean breeze blew his loose blond hair back off his face. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes were wide and bright, and Jake could almost feel his wonder.

Rye stepped right up to the railing and stood there, his gaze drawn out to the water. It wasn’t more than a few seconds later that his eyes widened even further, and he pulled his hands out from under his arms to grip the railing, leaning forward as his mouth parted in amazement .

There was a small tug in Jake’s chest, warm and bright. He understood that wonder, that pull toward the ocean, that awe. He grinned and sat up a little straighter as he followed the line of Rye’s gaze out beyond the beach. “What do you see?” he asked quietly.

After a few seconds, a dolphin surfaced maybe a few hundred feet from the shore, its two-toned gray dorsal fin barely becoming visible before disappearing back into the water again. Two more dolphins surfaced, and then another, obviously part of a small pod traveling north along the coast.

He heard Rye suck in a breath, and when he looked back at the man again, Rye was still leaning forward over the railing, his eyes glued out on the water.

“That’s a pod of Pacific white-sided dolphins. They’re pretty common around here,” Jake explained. He paused and glanced back out at the water. The dolphins surfaced again, farther up the coastline now. “You haven’t seen them before?”

Rye seemed to hesitate, and he ducked his chin. “M-maybe.”

“I see them all the time from here. But it still seems magical to me.” Jake let his gaze drift up the coast.

The dolphins were out of view—or at least, he couldn’t see them anymore from where he sat—but the ocean itself sparkled and gleamed, its deep blue dotted with flecks of white waves and reflected sunlight. Contentment came with the view. Contentment and some other feeling of peacefulness. He cleared his throat lightly and looked at Rye again. The man was watching him now, and there was an intense curiosity in his eyes, although it was mostly hidden behind reservation and anxiety.

“Every time I see them, it’s a treasure,” Jake said slowly. “They have an entire vast ocean to swim through, and yet, they’re right here, right along my short, insignificant stretch of coastline. It’s . . .” He paused, searching for the right words. Then he smiled. “It’s just something very special. That’s all.”

Rye’s brow had furrowed, and he bit his lip as he seemed to be thinking about what Jake had said. He turned back to the water without responding, however, and Jake also sat back more into the sofa cushions, closing his eyes and trying to relax.

But it was tough, given the pain in his leg and the circles his brain was running. Mostly the latter. Rye hadn’t spoken all morning until just now. And his first word of the day— Maybe —was just about as confusing as everything else had been.

It didn’t really clarify anything. In fact, it just made even more questions come to mind.

He opened his eyes partway. Rye was still standing there at the railing, watching the ocean. Only now, his shoulders looked tense, and his jaw was tight .

“Rye,” Jake said, and though he hadn’t meant it, his tone was maybe just slightly... gruff. He frowned and silently scolded himself when Rye flinched. When he started again, he made sure his voice was softer and quieter. “Sorry, um, I need to ask you some questions. Will you come and sit?”

Rye’s head dipped down, and he closed his eyes. God, Jake could almost see him shaking, his whole body tense and uncertain. Rye swallowed, and his small frame almost curled in on itself as he shrunk back from Jake. Not a huge amount, not much, but Jake could see it, and he definitely felt it.

He shook his head gently. “I just want to talk to you. There are a few things... well...” Jake trailed off, but at the same time, Rye nodded slowly. Then, without looking at Jake, Rye turned and took the few steps he needed to reach the side of the patio sofa opposite Jake. He sat stiffly and then pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

Jake’s heart hurt. Again. And he also hated himself right now. He hated that he’d had to interrupt whatever that moment of peace was that Rye had had staring out at the ocean, watching the dolphins. He hated that he’d been the cause of Rye’s wonder and awe disappearing into tension and anxiety.

It was important, he knew. He needed to talk to Rye. He needed to understand enough to be sure Rye was safe and would be safe, and he needed to understand what Rye wanted. But it pained him to see the change in Rye nonetheless.

Jake took a deep breath and then, keeping his voice soft, asked, “This morning, at breakfast, did you hear my phone call with Tim?”

Rye flinched slightly as though he hadn’t expected the words. He shook his head and scrunched his eyes shut, and for a minute, Jake just wanted to back off completely, apologize, and... maybe offer Rye more cookies or something. Instead, he just nodded and spoke slowly and gently.

“Tim has been keeping me up-to-date about the work on the road. He called during breakfast, remember?”

No answer. Rye buried his head into his knees.

“I probably should’ve brought it up earlier,” Jake said, although he remembered why he hadn’t. He’d been frustrated with the news from Tim, and he hadn’t wanted any of that frustration to come through as he’d spoken with Rye. “He said the rain did slow them down, and he thinks they’ll be finished maybe late Friday afternoon or sometime Saturday morning. He said, uh, definitely not tomorrow.”

This time, his heart didn’t just hurt. It broke. It shattered into a billion pieces that he was sure he’d never be able to put back together. Because Rye did respond this time. He responded with a short, stifled sob that he muffled into his knees, and then he forced out a string of five words, clear and painful.

“I want to go home. ”

Ah. Ah, fuck.

Jake blew out a quiet breath. “You want to go home?”

Rye nodded emphatically, even as he shrunk back into the corner of the sofa more.

God, what the hell had happened to him? A jumble of horrible speculations that Jake could barely even fathom jumped to mind, but he quickly pushed everything else aside, needing to focus on the here and now.

He moved very carefully, very slowly, to reposition himself so he was facing Rye more, and the young man sniffled and swiped one hand across his face, smearing his tears.

“Okay, it’s okay,” Jake murmured gently, fighting the urge to reach out and comfort Rye somehow. He swallowed thickly and tried to keep his voice more level. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to... I didn’t, um...”

There was a whimper and another sob, and one of Rye’s hands set on the sofa as though he were about to push himself up and take off.

Jake shook his head lightly. “I’ll help you, Rye. Okay? I’ll help you get home. Do you... do you know where home is? Do you—”

“No. No, I couldn’t find it. I-I couldn’t...” Rye was crying again, and this time, he did move, turning and stumbling to his feet and then backing away while wiping the tears from his cheeks. His head shook again, and then he wrapped one arm around his midsection. His other hand came up to grip his opposite arm. Tightly.

Jake stayed seated where he was, but his heart started pounding in his chest, and it was getting harder to keep all those speculations at bay.

Rye... couldn’t find it? What did that mean?

He set his hand on the sofa cushion next to him and patted it gently. “It’s okay.” He kept his voice low and soft as best he could, even as he watched Rye shake and shift uncomfortably on his feet and glance toward the stairs leading to the beach. “It’s okay. We’ll find it. Okay? I’ll help you, and we’ll find it. We’ll get you home, okay?”

Rye nodded, but it was forced, and the hand he had gripping his arm tightened again as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Here, sit. Or... I really don’t want you to get cold. Maybe we could go inside?” Jake suggested, but that was obviously not the right thing to say, because Rye flinched and stepped backward, shaking his head. “No? Okay. But, um, here. Please take my coat. Okay?”

Before Rye could answer, Jake unzipped his coat and then leaned forward slightly and slipped it off. He offered it to Rye, who stood several steps away from the sofa, biting his lower lip and watching Jake warily .

Ignoring the wave of unease that rolled through his stomach, Jake managed what he hoped was a kind smile. “Please take it. It’s chilly out here, and I don’t want you to get cold. Please.”

Several tense seconds later, Rye finally moved a step toward the couch, then another. And he let go of his arm to reach out and take the coat, his eyes downcast and his shoulders hunched. He slipped it on awkwardly—it was much, much too big, just like the sweats he’d been borrowing from Jake, but that didn’t matter. Not right now.

“There we go,” Jake said softly. “And here, sit, and then...”

Rye listened. But there was some stiffness in the way he moved and the way he curled up in his spot on the sofa, making himself as small as possible. Jake pursed his lips, trying his best to act calm, even though his stomach was hot and churning.

“Rye...” he started, but his voice cracked a little, and he cleared his throat to start over. Rye didn’t move. “Rye, I want to help you, okay? You’re safe here. I want you to know that. And I promise, you’re—”

Rye’s hands flew up to cover his head, which he buried down into his knees, and he started sobbing and trembling again.

Shit.

Jake clenched his jaw and forced a slow breath. God, he was awful at this—this whatever he was trying to do. Or he’d just said something that was triggering, maybe? Sort of like when he’d cursed the other day and Rye had reacted so strongly to it.

He knew how trauma responses worked, in general, that was. And he’d had enough of his own reactions to things over the last few years, especially when he’d been stubborn enough to try getting back on a boat again. That had been rough. But this... this was worse.

“I’m sorry, Rye,” he said softly, hoping to start over, again.

But it seemed like maybe Rye didn’t hear him. Or maybe Rye couldn’t hear him. He was shaking and shivering, and his hands still covered his head, as though he were trying to protect himself. From what, Jake hadn’t the faintest clue.

“I’m so sorry,” Jake murmured again.

And again, Rye didn’t respond.

So Jake just sat there silently for a few minutes, lost and unsure. He’d never felt so helpless before. So helpless and so inept. When a cold breeze blew in off the ocean, he shuddered and folded his arms over his chest to try to stave off the chill. It didn’t really work, but that was the least of his worries.

He wanted to help. Wanted to make things better. Yet he hadn’t, had he? The rational part of his mind reminded him that he actually had done a lot to help, and he could almost hear his sister’s voice in his head as he imagined what she might say. Rye had obviously been through something traumatic. Something very traumatic. And although it had been slow, Jake had made progress in getting Rye to trust him.

He just hated that he’d managed to hurt Rye again. Something he’d said had hurt, somehow. He turned his words over and over, trying to figure out what it might have been. But all he’d said was that Rye was safe. And he’d been about to promise that he’d help Rye get home. But he hadn’t gotten all the words out...

From inside the house, the phone rang. Rye flinched, and his eyes darted up to find Jake’s, fear etched deep in his expression. Jake gave him a small smile and then glanced at his watch, careful to not frown.

“That’s probably my editor. We’re supposed to have a meeting.” Jake left off the part where the meeting was supposed to be a video call on Zoom and was supposed to have started over five minutes ago. Keeping his tone light, he tipped his head toward the house. “I’ve gotta head inside, okay? But we can talk later. I’d like to talk later. Can we do that?”

Once more, Rye didn’t respond. He just closed his eyes and rested his forehead back on his knees.

And Jake’s shattered heart ached even more as he stood and limped slowly into the house.