34. Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jake
“I might have gone a little overboard, huh?” Krista laughed as she scooped up the leftover sausage gravy and transferred it into a container.
“I’m not complaining. I won’t have to cook for at least a week,” Jake said, grinning sideways at his sister.
She rolled her eyes and then heaved a dramatic sigh. “I suppose I didn’t have to cook the egg casserole, too, but I figured you’d eat it.”
“I will.” Jake snapped the lid on the glass casserole dish in front of him and moved the leftover casserole, along with the rest of the biscuits, bacon, and hash browns into the fridge. Krista handed him the sausage gravy, and he stuck that in, too, pushing a container of strawberries out of the way to make room.
Usually, he’d have headed to Sacramento for Christmas and stayed a few days, taking the opportunity to visit with Krista and Phil again and to see his dad. This year, however, his dad had gone on a trip to Hawaii with some of his work buddies, and so Krista and Phil had decided to come to Rocky Cove instead of having Jake drive to Sacramento again. They’d arrived the day before, on Christmas Eve, and planned to stay only until tomorrow afternoon. Phil had gymnastics practice on Friday, and with competition season coming up, he really didn’t want to miss it.
And even though it was just a short trip, Jake was thankful to have them. Spending Thanksgiving with them in Sacramento had been wonderful, and he’d been reminded of how much he missed his sister and his nephew.
Last night, they’d arrived just on time to go with him to the celebration in town, and that had been nothing short of wonderful. Phil had absolutely loved the small town, the huge Christmas tree, the hot chocolate, and the light displays and had barely stopped talking about it all long enough to fall asleep the night before .
Of course, the highlight of Jake’s night had been watching Phil get to meet Rye for the first time. Seeing Rye laugh was always special, even now, almost two months after Rye had shown up on Jake’s beach. But how his face had lit up and how he’d opened up and talked to Phil a bit as they’d spent the evening together at the celebration in town had been emotional and moving in ways Jake hadn’t expected.
His heart did something funny in his chest even now, just thinking about it.
He glanced up across the room to where Phil was sitting on the couch, completely immersed in the new Mario Party Jamboree video game Jake had gotten him for Christmas.
“You got it working okay, kiddo?” he asked, watching as Phil squirmed this way and that, mashing buttons on the controller.
“Hmm? Oh, yep! I’m just...” Phil trailed off and then jumped up from the couch and started flapping his arms like a bird. The character on the TV screen—maybe Rosalina, although Jake wasn’t quite sure—mimicked Phil’s movements, the big white wings sprouting from her back moving up and down as she flew higher. “Hah, it works! This is so, so awesome. I love it! Thank you for the present, Uncle Jake!”
Jake grinned and glanced at his sister, who was shaking her head. “Hey, now,” he said, lowering his voice a bit, “you okayed it. I did ask you first. And I also got him that Speed Cube and that Percy Jackson box set and that other book on Greek architecture and—”
His sister swatted at him playfully. “I know. Thank you for all that. He loves it. And he’ll read and read and read as soon as he’s done playing.” She huffed a laugh. “Actually, super extra thank you for that. When he’s reading is the only time he’s mostly quiet.”
“Except for when he feels the need to give line-by-line commentary on all the funny bits?” Jake guessed, recalling quite well from his trip over Thanksgiving.
“Exactly.”
The two adults finished cleaning up in the kitchen, and then Krista excused herself to go shower and get changed out of her pajamas. Jake sat with Phil on the couch for a bit, marveling at how quickly the boy had picked up playing the new game. Then he stood, grabbed his coat and his beanie, and headed outside to enjoy the Christmas morning sunshine on the patio.
The air was crisp and chilly, even without a breeze, and Jake walked slowly across the patio to the railing to look out over the clear blue water and down to the beach below.
He still hadn’t gone back down there. Nearly two months later, nearly two months after that panicked rush across the sand and the even-more-panicked fumble up the stairs carrying an unconscious Rye, he still hadn’t found the courage. Every time he’d thought about it recently, a weird nausea had hit him. His heart would start racing, and he’d immediately push the idea away. He wanted to. God, how he wanted to. The walks on the beach in town with Rye had been enough to keep the yearning at bay. But he missed his beach. He missed his daily routine. His walk. The quiet and beauty.
He pushed away from the railing and took a step in that direction, toward the stairs. Not more than a few steps later, he was standing there at the top, looking down. But that fear was there still, churning up his insides.
He knew—deep down he knew —that his leg was only part of the problem. In fact, his leg had mostly healed by now—the muscle strain no longer bothered him, and he could usually walk well enough without his cane, though he still brought it with him when he was out or when he knew he’d be walking a longer distance, just in case.
No, it was more than just that. And it was stupid.
Well, not really. He understood it. He’d recognized this other part of his fear, and he’d thought about it quite a bit. Hell, he’d even talked to his sister about it, and she’d gently suggested to him, as she had so many times in the past, that he might want to see a therapist and talk about it.
And he thought maybe he would. Because every time he stood up here, looking down the stairs, down to the beach where he’d first met Rye, his stomach twisted in knots and his chest tightened and his breathing got short. And all he could see was that first image he’d had of the small figure curled up against the cliff face in the rain. Freezing and wet and cold and probably so close to death.
He screwed his eyes shut now, fighting against that same feeling and that same image. His hand snuck down into his pocket, almost of its own accord, and he had to also fight the urge to call Shirley, the need to make sure Rye was okay almost overwhelming him.
It was eerily similar to the panic he used to feel at times after his accident. For months after he’d woken up and even several months after he’d been discharged from the hospital, when something—anything—triggered him, he’d get this sense of dread that would be just as overwhelming, and he’d need to call up Steve or his advisor or his other colleagues who’d also been on the boat, needing to know that they were alive and okay.
This, though... for whatever reason, this felt even more acute. He tightened his grip on the phone in his pocket and took a shaky breath.
Rye was fine. He’d been fine and healthy since whatever that cough he’d had during the first week or two had disappeared, and there was no rational reason to think otherwise. Yet the feeling persisted, and Jake had to force his hand to stay in his pocket, since he seemed unable to release his grip on his phone.
“If you’re gonna head down, Phil and I can come with you.” Krista’s gentle voice came from just behind him, and Jake managed to shake his head as he turned away from the stairs.
“No, I . . .”
His sister reached out and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into an embrace that was both warm and comforting, and he felt another shudder rattle him.
“You still haven’t gone down?”
Jake shook his head and mumbled a quiet “no” into his sister’s hair. She smelled of strawberries now. Maybe her shampoo.
“You know, um...” Krista hesitated, but then gave him a little squeeze and stepped back to look up at him. “Have you thought of maybe asking Rye if he’ll help you?”
“Ask Rye to help me?”
“Yeah, because it’s about him. Right? You told me before, it’s like that feeling you got after your accident, how you—”
“Yeah,” he interrupted, his shoulders tensing. “Yeah, it’s like that.”
“So, maybe if he’s here and he walks down to the beach with you, your fear won’t feel as strong?” Krista gave him a small, hopeful smile.
Jake pursed his lips, thinking. She might be right—ugh, she was usually right—but the idea also sounded risky. And he wasn’t sure whether asking that of Rye would be too much. Rye was just starting to heal himself. Asking him to help Jake deal with this trauma response...
He shook his head. “I don’t know. What if—”
“You know, it might be healing for him, too. To help you, I mean. Maybe not quite now, not yet. But soon? Or, you know, you could call up Dr. Green and talk to her.” Krista’s voice had softened again, and Jake closed his eyes. “She helped me so much after Sheila left.”
Jake remembered all too well how much Krista had struggled in the months after her now ex-wife had left her and Phil, with no real warning, to take a job offer at an upscale restaurant in France. Krista had started seeing a therapist almost right away, and it had helped. It had helped her, and by extension, it had helped Phil.
And given how he hadn’t been having any real luck trying to face his fear on his own, he should probably at least consider it.
He opened his eyes to see his sister looking up at him. “You still have her number?” he asked quietly, and Krista nodded .
“Yeah, I’ll text it to you.”
“Thanks.”
And she pulled him in for another hug.
Jake still had his hand in his pocket, gripping his phone, nearly fifteen minutes later, when he finally went back into the house. Krista was in the kitchen, cooking again, which wasn’t a huge surprise, and Phil had turned off the TV and was sitting on the floor in some odd contorted position, reading one of the books Jake had given him. The young boy looked up briefly, grinned, and then went back to reading, shifting to lie on the floor in a straddle split position while propping himself up on his elbows.
Jake raised his eyebrows and glanced at Krista, who laughed quietly and shrugged. “Does he always—”
“All the time,” Krista cut in, not letting Jake finish his sentence. “If he were just sitting normally on the couch, I’d worry he was sick or something.”
It was Jake’s turn to laugh this time. He stopped just in front of the dining table and rested his free hand on the back of the closest chair, and just as he’d finally convinced himself to let go of the grip he had on his phone, it buzzed with what seemed like a text message notification.
He pulled the phone out of his pocket and looked down at the screen. The notification was from a local number, but one he didn’t recognize. The phone buzzed again, and Jake clicked on the notification anyway. As soon as his eyes skimmed the first few words, all that tension he’d been holding since earlier, when he’d been standing outside at the top of the stairs looking down at the beach, all that fear and discomfort and anxiety melted away, replaced by warmth and relief and some other wonderful feeling that he couldn’t quite put a name to.
707-555-8633 (9:03 a.m.): Hi! This is Rye. Mom got me a phone for Christmas and she said I should text you so you have my number. So here it is
707-555-8633 (9:04 a.m.): 707-555-8633 in case it doesn’t show
707-555-8633 (9:05 a.m.): Merry Christmas!
A little Christmas tree emoji popped up under the last message as Jake finished reading, and he grinned and tapped on the screen to add Rye to his contacts and send a reply.
“Oooh, who texted you? I saw that look!” Krista’s voice was playful, but Jake looked up at her and rolled his eyes.
“I don’t have a look,” he retorted. “But if you really need to know—”
“I do!”
Jake groaned and shook his head. “You’re so nosy, sis.”
“Just because I love you, little brother. Really, who is it?”
Jake huffed a laugh but then answered Krista as he started typing Rye a response. “It’s Rye. He got a cell phone for Christmas, and he texted me to give me his number. That’s all.”
“Mm-hmm. That’s all. Yep.”
He sighed inwardly but ignored her teasing and the little uptick of his heart rate as he swiped his finger across the screen.
Jake (9:07 a.m.): Ah, that’s great! I’ve got your number now :)
Jake (9:07 a.m.): Merry Christmas! Are you having a good morning so far?
He knew he should stuff his phone back in his pocket and see if his sister needed help with whatever she was cooking. That would be the prudent thing to do. But instead, he found himself staring at the phone, eagerly waiting for Rye’s response. It didn’t take long, another short message popping up on his screen not more than a moment later.
And Jake could feel his sister’s “I told you so” brewing as his grin widened. But he ignored her again.
Rye (9:08 a.m.): Yes! I cooked Mom breakfast and we’re going to Uncle Jon’s this afternoon
Jake (9:09 a.m.): Perfect :) It’s been a good morning here too. Kris is cooking, and Phil is reading a book. I’m being a bit lazy and not doing much ;)
He didn’t get an immediate response, and he could still feel his sister staring at him. When he chanced a look up, her eyes were sparkling with amusement.
“Leave it, Kris.”
“I said nothing.”
“You didn’t have to.”
She lifted both hands as though to surrender and then lowered them again and grinned. “Mind helping me chop veggies for the soup, since you’re definitely not too distracted by texting your friend or anything?”
With a dramatic sigh, Jake nodded. He slipped his phone back into his pocket, moved to the sink to wash his hands, and then joined his sister at the counter and began chopping. Onions, garlic, red and green peppers, and celery. And as he chopped and minced, she added the veggies and some spices to a large pot sitting on the stove while she chatted away, talking mostly about work things.
Jake half listened, too aware of the silence of his phone in his pocket. Finally, just as he’d finished chopping the last of the veggies Krista had given him, the phone buzzed again. Just once.
Quickly, he washed his hands and then pulled his phone out.
Rye (9:20 a.m.): I have a gift for you
His breath caught in his throat, and he wasn’t even going to think about what his heart was doing. Stupid heart.
“God, Jake, you’re totally blushing.”
“I am not. Stop making things up.”
The words came out automatically, even though he knew they weren’t true. He could definitely feel the heat spreading across his cheeks and climbing up the back of his neck. But he wasn’t going to tell her that.
“What did he say? ”
He wanted to shoot back “How do you even know it’s Rye?,” but that seemed like the wrong thing to say, because of course she knew. So he just shook his head and typed another message back.
Jake (9:22 a.m.): I have a gift for you too. Can I stop by to drop it off before you head to your uncle’s?
He’d been planning to give the gift to Rye the next time he saw him, which he’d assumed would be tomorrow or in a couple of days at most. But giving him the gift on Christmas Day would be much, much better.
Rye’s reply came almost immediately.
Rye (9:23 a.m.): Yes, that would be perfect
And Jake couldn’t help grinning again, even as he heard his sister giggling.
“You sound like a teenager, you know,” Jake said, leveling her a look. It was supposed to communicate his annoyance, but he was sure it must have fallen short, especially when she snorted another laugh.
“You look like a teenager, staring at your phone with stars in your eyes,” Krista teased.
“I don’t have—” Jake cut himself off, knowing he’d lost this battle a long time ago. She was right. Just like always. Dammit. “I... can’t...” He shook his head. She knew, right? Even if a part of him felt something more than just friendship with Rye, it wasn’t something he could give in to and really let himself feel. Not... yet.
“I know,” Krista said softly. “And I’m sorry. It’s just... it’s been a while. If ever , actually. I mean, even when you were with Steve, you didn’t—”
“That wasn’t really anything. Steve and I just went out twice, and it was obvious right away that we were better off as friends.”
“My point exactly. I’ve never seen you like this before. It’s different.”
That’s because Rye’s different , he thought, but he didn’t say anything. He just looked back down at his phone and over the last few messages again.
I have a gift for you.
Something tugged at his heart, and it was warm and felt good. He wanted to be annoyed at it—and at how he just knew his sister was probably grinning madly at whatever the hell his expression looked like right then—but he really couldn’t.
Jake (9:25 a.m.): I can stop by in about fifteen minutes. Does that work?
Rye (9:26 a.m.): Yes!
Jake (9:26 a.m.): Great! See you then :)
Rye (9:27 a.m.): Okay!
Jake stuck his phone back in his pocket and braced himself as he glanced back up at his sister.
Yep, she had that annoyingly knowing grin on her face again and that I-told-you-so glint in her eyes.
“So, uh, I’m going to be heading over to Rye’s for just a bit,” he started, and he tried not to react when she pursed her lips in amusement. “He says he’s got a gift to give me, and I need to give him his too.” And then, preemptively, because he knew what was coming, he shook his head. “It’s nothing more than that, Kris. Really.”
“Oh, I believe you.”
“Good.”
“Uh-huh.”
Jake let out a short breath and ran a hand through his hair. “So... I’ll just go then? You’re okay to hold down the fort here? I shouldn’t be long.”
Krista just smiled at him again, all of the tease in her eyes gone. “Yeah,” she said. “Take your time. We’re fine here.”
“Tell Rye I said hi and merry Christmas!” Phil called out from his spot over on the living room floor, where he still lay sprawled out, reading.
Jake grimaced, wondering just how much Phil had overheard. “Will do, kiddo.” He smiled tightly at his sister, who laughed and gave him a reassuring nod.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “He’s totally, joyfully oblivious.” And she stepped up to him and gave him a small hug. “Go on. Drive safe. We’ll be here when you get back.”
“Yeah. Thank you, Kris.” He hugged her back, lingering in the embrace for an extra few seconds. Then he released her and headed off to his bedroom to grab Rye’s gift.