Pieces of Home

26. Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Five

Jake

“Thanks, Jake,” Sue said as she unfastened her seat belt. “And I mean it. Give me a call in a few days and let me know how you’re feeling. Okay?”

Jake nodded. “Yeah, yeah, of course. And thank you again. I’m not sure how I got through this last week. It was rough.”

“I bet. Take care, okay?”

Sue climbed out of the car and closed the door behind her, then she gave him a light wave and unlocked her own car. Jake watched as she pulled out of the parking lot of the small medical clinic, which was just down the street from the police station, then, when her car was gone and he was finally alone again, Jake closed his eyes, blew out a long, deep breath, and lowered his head to rest on the steering wheel.

Exhaustion attacked him from all sides—not just a product of the day, but of the whole week. He and Sue had just gone to the general store to get Shirley’s car, driven it over to the Davis home, and then come back to the medical clinic, where Sue’s car had been parked. It was the last thing in the long list of things he’d done today. He hoped that was it—that his day was effectively over and he could go home, have something to eat, and fall into bed. But realistically, he knew he needed to be ready for a much longer night. Neither Wayne nor Rachel had been entirely sure what was going to happen, but they’d both warned him of the possibility that whoever was sent over from the county or state police departments might need to talk to him again, and right away. So he should be prepared to head back into town if needed. It was also likely that they’d want to come over to his house in the morning and check out the beach where Jake had found Rye a week ago, see if they could find any clues as to where Rye had come from, or... something.

In any case, he was beat. The pain in his leg had finally, finally eased, thanks to the medication he’d taken earlier, and that was a huge relief .

Yet the pain in his heart had been growing all evening. And now, though he wanted to go straight home—though he knew he should go straight home—a part of him wanted to head back to Sycamore Avenue to make sure Rye was doing okay.

How... completely, terrifyingly awful. Now that Jake was sitting alone in his car, the only sound the high-pitched humming of the single light illuminating the parking lot, the entire situation suddenly seemed a whole lot heavier.

The last hour or so, he’d been trying not to let his mind run amok, but that was what it had been doing. Putting together the worst possible scenarios with all the little pieces he had. Every flinch from Rye might have meant... something. Every word Rye had said, and every word he hadn’t said. Sleeping on the floor rather than in the bed, and hiding out in the corner of the room. The way he’d savored every bite of Jake’s poor cooking. The way he’d not known how to play Mario Kart . And his fascination with the TV and the view outside and the dolphins.

And, fuck, the way he’d shown up seemingly out of nowhere, freezing and with his clothes dirty and in tatters, obviously malnourished, with that gash on his cheek and the bruising on his chest and sides.

There was no one who lived nearby Jake, not for at least a couple of miles, where the first few small streets of houses from the town extended down his direction. And yet, Rye had to have come from somewhere. He had to have been somewhere, not too long before Jake had found him.

Somewhere . . . restrained by some one .

Fifteen years ago, he had to have been taken , not lost. Taken, hidden away somewhere, and treated in the worst way.

God. Jake’s stomach hadn’t been settled in hours now, and the thought of where Rye might have been certainly didn’t help that.

With a long, tired sigh, Jake straightened up, put his car in reverse, and backed out of the parking spot. As much as he wanted to head back over to the Davises’, he knew he’d just be intruding. Apparently, Rachel would be staying there overnight, so at least he was sure everyone would be safe. Rye would be safe. And Rye’s uncle and aunt, who lived just about fifteen minutes up the coast, were also there for the evening.

Jake didn’t belong. Although maybe he’d give Rachel a call later, just to be sure everything was okay.

After the short ten-minute drive, he pulled up in front of his house and killed the engine. Part of him wanted to just sit there for a few minutes before he headed back inside, but another part of him knew he couldn’t. His sister would be calling soon, and... god, he needed to talk to her .

He opened up the door and stood, then gathered his new cane from the back seat and limped up the walkway to his porch. The house was dark and probably cold, and for some reason right then, he hated the feeling of being alone.

Not that he was scared to be alone. No, not that. He just wished his sister were here, so he could hug her and tell her in person how much he loved her. And his nephew, too—his silly, compassionate, outgoing nephew who was only two years older than Rye had been when...

A deep shudder ran through him as he grasped the railing at the bottom of the porch steps and stopped.

That was something he could not let himself think about. What-ifs and worst-case scenarios and all that. No, Phil was safe. And now, Rye was safe too. Safe and home with his family, where he belonged.

And Jake had better hurry before Krista called or he wouldn’t be safe. That thought made him chuckle lightly, though it didn’t really push away all of his unease, and with a final shake of his head, he hobbled up the two steps leading to the porch and let himself inside his home.

“Hey, Kris.”

“Hey, Jake . . . How are you doing?”

His sister’s tone was unusually solemn, and Jake chuckled lightly. “No wasting time getting right to the important questions, huh? I was expecting you to remind me of how much of a lunkhead I am first.”

Jake stared out over the ocean, the water nearly black in the darkness of early evening. Weak light from the half-moon above made the water glitter and sparkle on occasion as small waves crested out away from the shore, but the water was also oddly still, it seemed. Even the waves hitting the shoreline below seemed gentler than normal.

He pushed himself away from the railing at the edge of the patio and walked over to sit on his patio sofa, hoping his heavy coat, old Stanford beanie, and fresh cup of chamomile and lavender tea would keep him warm enough for a little while longer.

He didn’t want to go back inside yet.

“Well, you sound a bit sad,” Krista said quietly. “I’m sure you’re still a lunkhead, but we can talk about that later. Everything... didn’t go quite as you expected with Rye?” Krista’s voice was reluctant, like maybe she didn’t really want to know. Or maybe she just didn’t want to ask because she could tell Jake was sad.

“Not at all as expected, no,” he answered slowly, and he closed his eyes and took a short sip of his tea.

“You want to talk about it?”

“Hah, you’re giving me a choice, are you?” Jake leaned forward and set his tea down on the table in front of him.

“Oh, no, not at all. Just giving you the illusion of having a choice,” Krista teased with a light laugh, although she followed it up with a quick and much more serious, “I’m kidding, of course. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Jake was silent for several seconds. Then he sighed and reached up to rub his eyes. “I do want to talk about it actually.”

“Ahh, see! I knew it! When am I ever not intuitive?” she joked, and although her tone was teasing again, there was something different to it still.

Jake frowned. “You knew... I wanted to talk?”

She huffed another laugh. “Well, yeah, that. I mean, why else would you have called me , and before eight o’clock, even?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he mumbled, sitting back into the sofa cushions again and closing his eyes.

“Sorry, little brother, you do sound sad. Is everything okay?” Serious Krista was here now. The one he knew would listen to his rambling explanation of the last few hours and give him the honest advice he needed.

“It . . . will be?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

Jake laughed, though he didn’t really feel the humor in it. “Uh, both, I think?”

And so, he started into what did end up being a long, rambling explanation—starting from Rye’s slow deterioration over the course of the day and his collapse outside Jake’s car, and ending with Jake’s completely unjustified feelings of wanting to head back to the Davis home to make sure Rye was okay.

Because for some reason, that also seemed like something he needed to tell her.

She stayed silent the entire ramble, not even interrupting him once—which was a miracle in itself. Then he heard her shudder, her breath ragged and shaky. “God, Jake...”

“I-I know.”

Neither of them spoke for what might have been a minute or two, and Jake found himself absently rubbing his leg, though it didn’t really hurt anywhere near as much as it had earlier in the day. He closed his eyes .

“Do you remember watching the news?” he asked, but he didn’t give her time to answer as he voiced all the other words that had been running through his head for the better part of the evening. “God, Kris, I can’t believe I didn’t realize it was him, and I can’t... I can’t even imagine how... or, I mean, what... what he must have gone through. And I...” He trailed off and brought his free hand up to rub his eyes.

“I think maybe you shouldn’t,” his sister said softly.

“I shouldn’t what?”

“Try to imagine it, what he went through.” There was a quiet sniffle, which made Jake frown. Then Krista continued. “It was probably awful, and I feel like...”

Krista sighed in a way that told Jake she was sad now too, and his heart hurt even more. He cleared his throat, wanting to apologize, but she started talking again before he could.

“I feel like maybe Rye will tell you if he wants to, when he’s ready.”

It was a strange thing to say, and Jake found himself shifting a bit uncomfortably. He sat up, shaking his head again, and then stood, needing to move... or something.

“Why would he tell me? I’m just . . . I mean, I’m just . . .”

“...the first friend he had once he... found his way out of whatever situation he’d been in,” Krista finished for him. “You do realize you may have been the first one—” Her voice broke in a quiet sob, and she sniffled again and cleared her throat. “Sorry, I, um, I just think, maybe you might have been the first person who cared about him in... a very long time.”

It was complete conjecture on her part, Jake knew. And yet, with all the little pieces of Rye’s story his mind had already put together, he couldn’t say he disagreed.

He exhaled a short, harsh breath. “Fuck.”

“Right.”

“But he’s got his family, and...” Jake felt an unfamiliar tug in his stomach, and he let out another uneasy breath.

“And he’ll still need a friend. Can you imagine how hard it’s going to be for him if—god, never mind, I just said we shouldn’t be imagining all the things.” Krista laughed, probably at herself, though like many of their “laughs” tonight, it seemed to hold no humor. Then she was quiet for another minute before she repeated, “He’ll still need a friend. And, if you’ve got it in you to get out of your house every once in a while, you’re the type of person who would make a really good friend, I think. ”

Jake rolled his eyes at his sister’s tease or whatever that had been, but then he sighed again and took a small step in the direction of the water.

“I do care about him,” he admitted. And because he didn’t want that to be taken the wrong way, he quickly added, “I mean, I think I could, you know, force myself to leave my house ‘every once in a while,’ for Rye. If he does... need a friend.”

“He will.”

And Jake knew she was right.

He’d seen how difficult everything had been for Rye, even after his mom had shown up. As heartwarming and heartbreaking as their reunion had been, it hadn’t been magically healing. Whatever Rye’s fears and anxieties were, they hadn’t just miraculously disappeared when his mom had hugged him.

And the next few days would probably be just as tough for Rye as the whole last week had been. Rye would no doubt be questioned by those out-of-town investigators Wayne had mentioned, the same ones who would probably need to talk to Jake too. Hell, Wayne had even said the FBI might show up, which made sense given the nature of Rye’s disappearance. And, fuck, the media too. Once word got out that Rye was home, their quiet little town would probably be swarmed.

The thought of the media hounding Rye, trying to get him to talk, made Jake physically ill.

Rye would need a friend, especially over the next few days and especially after the dust settled. Regardless of whatever happened during the investigation—whether Rye found his voice and was able to tell the police where he’d been and what had happened, or whether some other new leads came up—it was going to be difficult. For all of them, yeah, but especially for Rye.

He slowly finished the walk across his patio and to the railing overlooking the water. Then he leaned against it, resting his weight on one hand, and he stared out at the ocean.

Krista had started talking, quietly having switched the subject to Phil’s upcoming gymnastics competition season, which apparently started next month, and Jake listened as she spoke, glad for the distraction. Yet he also couldn’t help as his mind wandered again, back to when he’d been recovering from his accident.

His family had been there; his sister had been at the hospital when he’d woken up and then every single day after, and his dad had been there much of the time as well. They’d been infinitely supportive of him, even when his stubborn ass had argued with the doctors about, well, nearly everything. But it had been hard on them—watching him nearly die and then having to stand by as he’d struggled with the reality of his injuries and the length of his recovery .

He’d been incredibly lucky to have his friend Steve to talk to when he’d needed someone but hadn’t wanted to, for lack of a better word, burden his family. Yeah, his sister was amazing, and she cared about him and loved him and supported him in every way, but he’d also just needed another friendly voice. And Steve had been there for him to listen to him and commiserate and joke with him in a way his family just couldn’t.

Rye’s situation was quite different, but Krista was right. Rye was going to need someone, too, just as Jake had. And Jake found himself hoping he could be that person, that friend, when Rye needed it.

“So, as I’m sure you could guess, Phil’s a little nervous,” Krista said, her deep sigh cutting into Jake’s thoughts.

He grimaced as he realized how far from the conversation he’d drifted. “Sorry, I, uh—”

Krista interrupted him with a laugh. “You’re sorry that you totally missed what I was saying about Phil being selected to compete in the junior elite division this year because you were somewhere else, thinking about... some one else?”

Jake groaned. “I was not.”

“You’re the most terrible liar, Jake, you know that.”

“Yeah, I do, actually.” He laughed to himself and then straightened up, shivering as he noticed the chill for the first time in a while. He turned back to the house. “I’m sorry, though. That’s incredible. Junior elite, huh?”

“Yeah. It means longer practices, though. A couple extra hours on top of the twenty he’s already doing every week. And he has to learn extra routines and some hard new skills.”

“That’s perfect for him. He loves a challenge,” Jake said, slowing to grab his mostly empty mug as he passed the table.

“He does.”

“And it’ll give him a chance to go to some national championship?”

“Yeah, in—”

“—Reno. See, Kris, I was listening. Thinking about Rye and listening. I’m an excellent multitasker, really.”

“Jesus, Jake, you’re so full of it,” she said, but she was laughing now, and Jake smiled right along with her as she continued. “Anyway, yeah, it’s in Reno. Next April. His coach says he’ll qualify, easily, and you know he’s going to need his favorite uncle—”

“I’m his only uncle!”

“He’s going to need his favorite uncle there. So clear your calendar. It’s the last weekend in April.”

“I wouldn’t miss it. Tell him I’ll be there, okay? ”

“I will.”

Jake paused to open the back door, and a rush of warm air hit him. It felt good and more comforting than he’d expected, although at the same time, the exhaustion he’d been battling with earlier after dropping Sue off returned to him full force.

Mustering up the very last of his energy, he stepped inside and slid the door closed behind him. “I’m beat, Kris. I think I’m gonna call it a night,” he said, and he heard his sister’s laugh on the other end of the line.

“I’m surprised you’re still awake, honestly,” she admitted, and her voice then got serious and quiet when she added, “I know you haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Yeah... the pain made it hard. I think tonight should be easier.” God, he hoped. And he also hoped his brain would slow down long enough for him to fall asleep in the first place.

“So long as they don’t call you in another hour or two and make you go back into town to answer questions?” his sister asked gently.

“Yeah.” He made his way across the living room to the kitchen, then set his mug on the counter, promising himself he’d deal with it tomorrow. And he reached up and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. God, he was tired.

He heard Krista clear her throat. “Okay, well, um, I’m sure you’re going to be busy tomorrow, so just... call me when you can? Please?”

“Of course.”

“Love you, little brother.”

“Love you too, Kris. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Jake hung up the phone, closed his eyes for a beat, and took a long breath. Then he awkwardly stuffed the cordless phone in his pocket—because he needed to be sure to keep it with him overnight, in case Rachel or Wayne called—and shuffled slowly toward his bedroom.

Not more than fifteen minutes later, after a quick shower, he collapsed into bed, already drifting off to sleep by the time his head hit the pillow.