37. Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Six
Rye
Rye watched the windshield wipers move back and forth across the windshield, clearing away the blur of the heavy raindrops that still fell. He wanted to roll the window down and stick his hand out, feel the sting of the raindrops hitting his palm. But it was cold outside and warm inside the car, and so he remained content with just watching the raindrops fall and remembering what they’d felt like not more than a few minutes ago, when he and Jake had still been outside.
Cool. Pleasant. Soothing. Freeing. And the smell! The smell of fresh rain and the ocean...
He laughed, not because it was funny, but because he could. And then he reached up and put his hand on the window of the car, feeling the chill from outside through the glass.
“Hmm?” Jake hummed from next to him, and the car’s blinker clicked on as Jake started to brake.
He almost just said how much he liked the rain, again , but then he thought better of it because he’d already told Jake that more than once. Instead, he said, “The rain... even smells good.”
“Ahh, yes! The rain plus the ocean—”
“Yes, exactly!” Rye cut in, grinning as he looked over at Jake. Jake was watching the road, driving carefully through the rain, but Rye could see he was smiling now too. And that made Rye feel much better.
The words he’d finally been able to share earlier had been so, so hard to say, and as soon as he’d said them, his stomach had felt awful and his chest had felt heavy, and he’d just wanted to take the words right back. Especially when Jake had stopped walking and looked so... horrified might be the right word. Or dismayed . Rye had learned that word in another book a few weeks ago, like how he’d learned the word formidable .
If it had been anyone other than Jake, his words would have caught in his throat before he’d even been able to force them out. And he’d have felt more sick. And the awful memories of that awful place would have jumped right back into his head and made him hurt more. Again.
But for the first time, the words had actually come. Small things. How he hadn’t experienced rain in so long. And how he hurt physically, sometimes a lot, when he tried to speak.
So now Jake knew something. Some answers to those questions the police officers had asked him, some of the things his mom had wanted to know, some answers to the questions he’d never been able to respond to, even with a nod or a simple yes or no... Jake knew them now. Sort of.
And Jake had been reassuring and kind as he always, always was. He’d promised he’d listen if Rye needed it but that he’d never push Rye to talk when he wasn’t ready. That had been just what Rye had needed.
The whole last two months—all the visits from the police, even the kind woman officer, Pamela; all the moments he’d spent in near panic, trying to push down the need to just run ; all the time he’d spent fumbling or huddled in a corner, hugging his knees and hiding his face, listening to the rotten voice of the man in his head—the weight of it all had maybe lifted just a little. Just enough that maybe, maybe he could enjoy moments like this. Moments in the rain or on the beach or just sitting in the car while his friend drove them to the post office. Maybe he could laugh and smile. Maybe he could talk .
And maybe he could share more with Jake and Jake could share that information with the police. And then maybe...
“We’re almost there. You’re sure it’s okay if we make this stop really quick before I take you home? Your mom won’t mind? I think we’re a bit late. I’d said I’d drop you off around one.”
“I... can text her, I think. Um, right?”
Jake grinned and glanced over at Rye briefly before looking ahead of him again. “Yeah, you can do that, for sure. It should only take a few minutes. I just need to drop off the box in the back seat there, and it’s already got a shipping label and everything. You can tell her we’ll be there in five or ten minutes.”
“’Kay.”
While Jake drove the rest of the way to the post office, Rye pulled his phone out of his pocket and fumbled around until he found his text message app. His mom had helped him put in her number and a few others, although Jake was the only person he’d texted so far. It took him much longer than it probably needed to, but by the time Jake pulled up into the parking lot at the post office and found a parking spot right by the entrance, Rye had just finished sending his mom a text telling her they’d be home in five or ten minutes, as Jake had told him.
His mom texted back right away with a smiley face emoji and the words “Okay! I love you! Hope you’re having a great time!,” and then Rye hit the power button to turn off the screen and stuffed his phone back in his pocket.
“All good?” Jake asked, and Rye nodded. “Great. You, uh, want to come inside with me or stay out here? It should be quick either way.”
“I...” Rye’s voice, which he’d been so happy to have only minutes ago, stuck in his throat again, and he glanced up at the small building in front of them. The double glass doors were closed, but he could see the lights on inside and a short, plump gray-haired woman behind a white counter near the back of the room. No one else was around. And that was both good and... not so good. “I’ll... come inside.”
“Alright,” Jake said, and even though there wasn’t any question in his tone, Rye almost felt the need to explain.
He watched Jake unfasten his seat belt, and when Jake looked back up at him, Rye blinked. Jake had said he didn’t need to talk if he didn’t want to. But he sort of... wanted to. Because a part of him just really, maybe, wanted to be... understood. Even if his reason—the reason he needed to go inside with Jake rather than stay in the car—was maybe a little... childish.
So, he cleared his throat. “I, um, get scared when I’m alone. It’s b-because I...” God, it was harder than he’d expected. The words were simple words. And Jake was patient and kind. And he wouldn’t expect any more than Rye was ready to give. And he could do it. Please. “It’s because I was alone when... it happened.”
“When it happened?” Jake repeated softly, and his gentle voice seemed to surround Rye with warmth and give him courage.
He nodded. “When... I was taken. I-I was alone when I was taken.” And that was all he had. All he could give. He’d already shut his eyes at some point, but he scrunched them closed even tighter, trying not to remember that day that was so long ago and yet felt like it was yesterday. Walking home from school. Feeling lost as he’d looked for Sycamore Avenue. The small white car pulling up next to him. The man’s face—
Rye sucked in a sharp breath and then let it out slowly, trying to keep the exhale even.
Next to him, Jake made some soft, reassuring sound. Then Rye felt Jake’s hand settle lightly on his back, as it had earlier. And the touch was soothing, like the rain had been. The fear, the panic faded, and he breathed again, deeply .
“I’m so sorry, Rye,” Jake said quietly, rubbing Rye’s back. Now it was warmer, and maybe his heart was beating at a normal speed. “You’re safe. You’re safe now.”
Rye nodded. He was safe. He was okay and safe with his friend. As long as he wasn’t left alone. And Jake seemed to understand that.
“I’m perfectly happy to have you come inside with me. Okay?”
With another nod, Rye forced his eyes back open and then made his hands move, shaky as they were, to unfasten his seat belt. His fingers felt stiff—probably both from the cold and from all of his whatever-this-was.
He climbed out of the car and shut the door behind him. Jake was moving slowly as well and using his cane a lot, like he had been all day today. And Rye frowned as he remembered Jake mentioning something about how the cold weather and rain made his injured leg hurt more. He hurried around to the other side of the car.
“I... can help,” he offered as Jake opened up the door to get the box from the back seat.
Jake seemed to hesitate, but then he nodded. “I’d appreciate that.”
Rye grabbed the package from the back seat, and then he and Jake headed up to the entrance. Jake stepped in front of him and opened the door, since Rye had his hands full with the box. It certainly wasn’t heavy, but it was a bit awkward to carry, and he mumbled a quiet thanks to Jake as he entered the building. The rough click of the door shutting behind him made him flinch, but he blinked away the feeling of unease and looked up across the small room. The woman who had been at the counter was nowhere to be seen now, but Jake didn’t seem bothered by that.
“You’ve got it still? Here, we can set it on the counter. Usually they have a sign for drop-offs, but I’m sure we can just—”
Jake cut himself off as the door to the back of the building opened and the gray-haired woman stepped out, looking up at both of them with surprise. She waved a greeting.
“Why hello there, Jake! How’ve you been?”
“Good afternoon, Nancy!”
Whatever else Jake might have said was drowned out as the ground suddenly shook under Rye’s feet, the jolt hitting him in the chest and throwing him back into the door.
The closed door.
The closed door to the unfamiliar room.
Where he was trapped .
“Shit. Fuckin’ phone. It’s probably fuckin’ Nancy again. Dammit.” The rough hand gripping his arm tightened painfully, and he muffled a cry, squeezing his eyes shut. “Stay right there, or you’ll wish you were dead when I’m finished with you.”
Nancy.
The man had gotten a phone call from Nancy .
And Rye was going to die. The man was going to kill him this time. Actually, really kill him.
He turned around, barely seeing through the thick haze of darkness suffocating him, and he pushed at the door as hard as he could. It swung open ahead of him, and he stumbled out into the cold rain.