Pieces of Home

40. Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Jake

The late-April sunshine warmed Jake’s face as he stepped out from under the Davises’ front porch. Glancing back over his shoulder, he gave a small wave to Shirley, who stood in the doorway, wringing her hands together. She frowned but then nodded and waved back.

“Don’t worry!” he said with what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“That’s like telling the sun not to shine, Jake, you know that!” She was only half joking, Jake knew, and when she looked past him, down to the driveway where Jake’s car was parked, the worry lines on her forehead deepened.

Jake paused and turned around to face her. “Shirley,” he said, softer this time. Her eyes shifted back to him, but she shook her head and waved a hand as though shooing him away.

“I know, I know. It’s just... Have fun, okay? Tell Phil good luck for me. And—and don’t forget to text me when you get there. Please?”

Jake nodded. “I will.”

“Thank you, Jake,” she said, and she smiled a genuine smile this time and then looked past Jake again and gave another small, awkward wave.

Jake turned back toward his car and paused for half a second when he saw Rye smiling and waving to his mom from the front seat, the now-familiar stutter of his heart almost stopping him in his tracks. Rye’s eyes shone with eagerness and excitement, and the sight made Jake feel things—warm, pleasant things that he’d been doing his absolute best to hide.

It’d been nearly six months since that morning he’d found Rye on his beach and just about four months since Rye had first opened up to Jake about what had happened to him. And they’d become close. Good friends close. Best friends close .

Knowing everything he now did about the time Rye had spent down in the cold, dark basement of Raymond Hirsh’s house, Jake had made every effort to continue hiding those other burgeoning feelings he seemed powerless to stop.

And he’d keep working on it, too, because Rye still just needed a friend.

He couldn’t hide his reaction to seeing Rye smile, though. And when Rye’s eyes, bright and happy, shifted to him and Rye’s face lit up in another huge smile, Jake’s heart did its whole flip-flop-flutter thing again.

God, what was he getting himself into? Inviting Rye with him on a three-day trip to Reno to watch Phil compete in his first ever national-level gymnastics competition had sounded like a good idea at the time. And it would be. It would be fun. His heart would just have to work really hard to behave itself.

He hurried the rest of the way to his car, glad his leg was back to its normal level of achy after the muscle strain he’d gotten nearly six months ago, and then he climbed in, buckled his seat belt, and glanced sideways at his friend with a grin.

“Ready?”

Rye nodded eagerly, and that made the warmth in Jake’s chest grow even more. “I’m ready,” he said. But then he tilted his head back toward the house and bit his lip, his smile faltering. “I’m not sure my mom is, though.”

“Ah, yeah.” Jake started his car and then put it into reverse and began backing out of the driveway. “She’s just worried, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Rye said, and he waved one more time to his mom as Jake shifted the car into drive and pulled away from the house. “It’s... the first time I’ll be... away.”

The slight hesitation in his voice hinted at the fact that Rye himself wasn’t entirely unaffected by it either, although he did seem more excited than anxious. Jake glanced at him, but Rye was grinning again and now looking down at his phone.

“Six and a half hours to Reno?” he asked.

Jake nodded as he focused back ahead of him. “Yep, or maybe a little longer depending on how often we have to stop. My doctor always suggests I stop at least every couple of hours. Get out and walk around a little. But, uh, when I head to my sister’s, I usually just drive straight through,” Jake admitted, grimacing.

Rye laughed. “My mom said the same thing. To make sure you stop every couple hours, that is.”

The car was quiet for a few minutes, and Jake navigated the familiar road in comfortable silence, stealing occasional glances at his companion. They drove past the road that led to Jake’s house, and then another mile or so later, they drove past a turnoff to the left—a long, roughly cleared dirt road that led to an old, now-abandoned house in the forest .

Jake’s chest tightened, and he let out a measured breath before sneaking another look over at Rye. Rye was staring out his window, his face turned away. His shoulders were tense, and his hand seemed to be pressing into his leg. Hard.

The memories were too fresh, even for Jake, and he could only imagine how Rye felt, especially given that Raymond Hirsh was still somewhere out there. Even just thinking the man’s name made Jake’s stomach churn.

That day Rye had shared part of his story with Jake, just about four months ago now, had been such a roller coaster of emotions. They’d gone to the police station, and Jake had recounted everything Rye had told him. And then there’d been a whirlwind of activity—phone calls and more phone calls, waiting for the county sheriff’s deputies to arrive, waiting more, answering more questions, fielding questions for Rye, being so, so careful to keep Rye comfortable while people descended on their small, quiet town again.

Nancy had been the key to so much. Jake still remembered when she’d come down to the police station in person after speaking to Wayne on the phone, how she’d recounted a phone call she’d had with a man named Raymond Hirsh on the evening of Friday, November 1. She’d called him earlier in the day to remind him of a package he was supposed to pick up that had been waiting for him for over a week. He hadn’t answered, so she’d left a message. Then, just before closing, she’d called him again. He’d answered this time, but he’d cut her off in the middle of the phone call, muttering and cursing.

He never came to get his package and hadn’t answered any calls since.

After Nancy’s admission, the police had gotten Hirsh’s address and then a search warrant, and late that night, Wayne, Craig, multiple police officers from the county sheriff’s department, and a few agents from the nearest FBI field office had gone out to Hirsh’s house.

They’d found nothing. And everything.

The house had been abandoned, obviously in a hurry. Mostly emptied dresser drawers had been left partway open, clothing strewn about the single bedroom, the fridge had been full of rotting food, including an entire gallon of expired milk and a large pot of mold-covered oatmeal, and the door leading down into the basement had had a large, fist-shaped dent right at about shoulder height. Raymond Hirsh had been long gone. And in his rush, he’d made no real attempt to hide any evidence.

A small backpack containing eight-year-old Rye’s books and school supplies had been collecting dust in the back of the bedroom closet, alongside a pair of child-sized shoes and a pile of old clothes that happened to match Shirley’s description of what Rye had been wearing the day he’d disappeared .

Even more damning was the video footage they’d found. A security camera placed right on the front porch of Raymond Hirsh’s home had captured Rye’s escape—timed to precisely when Nancy had mentioned having called to talk to Hirsh. And apparently, they’d also recovered multiple shoeboxes stuffed with mini DVDs labeled by date, some as old as March 2009. The content of those DVDs hadn’t been disclosed to Jake, although he knew Rye was aware of them.

There’d been more. A lot more. DNA evidence and more circumstantial stuff. And all of it together had been more than sufficient for the police to conclude, with a high level of certainty, that the man named Raymond Hirsh had kidnapped Rye and had been holding Rye down in his basement for fifteen years.

The media frenzy that had followed had been hard on Rye and his mom, and Jake remembered days when Rye hadn’t been able to talk at all, even to him. Days when their lunch at the café and walk on the beach had been mostly silent. He’d done his best to be as supportive and helpful as possible and to be the friend Rye had needed.

Weeks and months had gone by without any news—Raymond Hirsh was still nowhere to be found—and things had gradually calmed down. But it had been tough. Very tough. And every time he drove by the turnoff to Hirsh’s home, he still had to swallow back all the feelings that came with those memories.

Jake took a deep breath and glanced over at Rye again. The younger man was staring down at his hands now, and he reached up and pushed a loose strand of his hair back behind his ear, his jaw tight. Then he blinked and shook his head a little, still looking down.

“You’re driving. You should be... watching the road. Not me.” There was just a hint of playfulness in his tone, and it made Jake smile.

He looked ahead and huffed a laugh. “Yeah, you’re right. I just...”

“You and my mom, you both worry a lot.” Rye cleared his throat but didn’t say anything else, and Jake felt another of those now-familiar flutters in his chest.

“You’re my friend. I do worry,” Jake admitted, though what he really wanted to say was something a little different. Something about how much he cared and how much it hurt to see Rye hurting.

“I... appreciate you.” Rye’s voice had grown small, and when Jake stole another glance at his friend, Rye’s eyes were closed. But then Rye’s lips twitched up into a small smile. “Watch the road,” he teased.

Jake laughed and shook his head as he looked forward again. “Sorry, sorry. Yep, you’re right.”

And the comfortable silence returned for a few more minutes. Just as the road curved and their turnoff for the main highway leading out of Rocky Cove came into view, Rye spoke, his voice now bright .

“I’ve never been to Reno. Or watched gymnastics. This is going to be fun. Thank you for inviting me.”

And just like that, the mood shifted back to its earlier eagerness. Jake grinned and started talking, describing Reno as best he could remember from the last time he’d visited, which had been several years ago. Then, as he braked and put on his blinker to turn onto the highway, he started talking about Phil and his gymnastics training and how the competition they were going to watch in Reno would be Phil’s first time competing in a national-level gymnastics championship and as a pre-elite athlete.

Rye was interested and curious, but then he quickly seemed to get distracted, leaning forward to look out the front windshield with awe.

The road ahead was lined with huge sycamores, which was nothing new, really. Many of the roads in and around Rocky Cove had the same massive trees. But the way the sunlight filtered through the branches cast beams of light onto the road, and it looked nothing short of magical.

“Gosh, that’s . . . beautiful,” Rye breathed.

Jake snuck one more glance at Rye, letting his eyes linger for a second or two. “Yeah. Yeah, it is,” he agreed softly. Then he sighed inwardly as he shifted his gaze back to the road.

The drive to Reno did indeed take a little more than six and a half hours, probably because Rye had insisted they stop to get out and walk around every two hours or so. When they arrived at their hotel just around five o’clock, still with plenty of time before they were supposed to meet Krista and Phil for dinner at six, Jake was grateful for Rye’s insistence.

He climbed out of the car and stretched, happy that his leg didn’t ache any more than normal, and he watched with a small smile as Rye pushed his door open and stood slowly, wonder in his eyes. The four-story hotel wasn’t anything special—Jake had picked it mostly because they had two-room suites available, and he figured Rye would be more comfortable having his own “room.” But the parking lot was full, and people were coming and going out the entrance. It seemed busy, at least compared to the quiet Rye was used to in Rocky Cove. And Jake was pleasantly surprised that Rye didn’t seem bothered by all the activity—at least not yet .

“The convention center where the competition is tomorrow is just a couple miles north. I think we actually passed it on the way here. And Krista and Phil are staying closer, at the same hotel as a bunch of Phil’s teammates,” Jake explained as he popped the trunk to his car and then started unloading their luggage. Rye joined him but didn’t say anything, which was okay. Jake shouldered his messenger bag and set his luggage on the ground, then pulled up the handle, and Rye lifted his own duffle bag out of the trunk and slung the strap over his shoulder.

Together, they headed inside, got checked in, and took the elevator up to the third floor. Rye was quiet the whole time, and as soon as the elevator doors closed, he seemed to hold his breath. When the doors opened on their floor a moment later, Rye hurried out ahead of Jake, shaking his head.

“You okay?” Jake asked softly, stepping out of the elevator behind Rye.

Rye managed a nod, though his shoulders were tight. He seemed like maybe he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite make the words come, so Jake just gave him a gentle smile and motioned ahead and to the left.

“We’re in room three oh one. That way.”

After a short trip down to the end of the hallway, Jake tapped the keycard on the lock, pushed open the door, and held it for Rye, then he followed Rye inside. The room was huge. It had a full kitchen and living room area and then two bedrooms on opposite sides of the suite, each with an attached bathroom. Rye chose the room with two queen-sized beds rather than the room with the single king-sized bed, and they took a few minutes to get settled in before heading back down to the car to go meet Krista and Phil for dinner.

The restaurant Krista had chosen was close to the convention center and thankfully not busy when they arrived. Krista and Phil were already seated around a small, secluded table near the back of the room, which looked to be perfect for what Rye should need to be comfortable, and Jake waved as soon as he saw them. Phil’s face lit up with excitement as he waved back.

Jake glanced sideways at Rye, who was taking in the space slowly, his shoulders tense and his jaw tight.

“Is this going to be okay for you?” Jake asked softly, fighting the urge to set his hand on Rye’s back for reassurance.

Rye seemed to spot Phil then, and the boy waved to Rye, nearly bouncing up and down in his chair now. Rye laughed quietly and waved back to Phil, then looked up at Jake and nodded.

“Good, good,” Jake said. Hesitantly, he added, “I know sometimes it can be hard going to new places?”

Rye simply nodded again.

Jake motioned ahead of them and let Rye lead the way to the back of the restaurant. By the time they reached Krista and Phil’s table, Phil had jumped up to greet them. He launched himself into Jake’s arms first.

“I’m so glad you came, Uncle Jake! And Rye! Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you’re here!” Phil turned to Rye and paused, his eyebrows raised and an eager look on his face. And Rye smiled and nodded, opening up his arms to invite Phil in for a hug. With a huge grin, Phil stepped up and wrapped his arms low around Rye’s waist. “Isn’t Reno so cool?” Phil asked as he let Rye go a moment later. He took Rye’s hand and tugged gently, leading Rye over to the chair next to where he’d been sitting at their small, squarish table. Rye followed, and so did Jake as Phil kept talking. “We got here this morning, and the whole team—well, I mean, everyone who qualified and who’s already here—we all went to this really neat automobile museum and then to lunch together, and...”

Phil continued, explaining the entire day to Rye in great detail, as he and Rye took their seats around the table. Jake finally locked eyes with his sister, who was looking just as amused as ever, an all-too-knowing grin on her face. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and instead, he just smiled back and shook his head slightly.

“Hi, sis.”

Krista stood and immediately pulled him in for a hug, and when she pressed her face up against his chest, he heard her whisper, “I’m so happy to see you, little brother.” She didn’t say anything more then, although there was plenty Jake could hear in her tone and see in her eyes when she pulled back and smirked at him.

“Don’t even go there tonight, Kris,” he grumbled under his breath, and she laughed and winked at him.

“My lips are sealed,” she said quietly. They both sat, and Phil immediately brought Jake into the conversation.

“Right, Uncle Jake? Grandpa used to have an old car, like from the 1960s? But it was stolen?”

Jake laughed at the random topic but nodded. “Yep, a 1963 Chevy Impala. He loved that car.”

“Ah, right, that’s what it was!” Phil said excitedly. “So, Rye, they had one of those at the car museum! Most of the cars were way older than that, though. I can’t wait to tell Grandpa! He couldn’t be here today because he’s traveling again. He’s somewhere in Europe, I think. Right, Mom?”

Rye’s lips were pursed as though he was trying to hold back laughter, and when he glanced at Jake, his eyes were sparkling with amusement. Phil kept talking, and Rye kept listening, answering only with a nod or a shake of his head, which Phil took in stride and didn’t seem at all bothered by .

Their server, Max, a kind-looking older gentleman with graying hair and a short beard, came by to get their drink orders, and Phil finally stopped talking and looked at his mom expectantly, lifting his eyebrows and grinning. But Krista laughed and shook her head.

“Nope, uh-uh. After the meet tomorrow, you get all the ice cream shakes and Sprite you want. Tonight, stick to water or iced tea, please, or you’ll never fall asleep.”

Phil groaned dramatically, but then sighed, straightened up, and clearly and respectfully asked the server for water with lemon. Krista ordered coffee, and Jake ordered an Arnold Palmer. The server then turned to Rye, who was staring at the menu on the table in front of him, holding himself very, very still.

“And you, sir?” the server asked.

Jake saw Rye flinch, and when he glanced up at Jake, his eyes were pleading for help. Jake smiled gently and gave Rye an encouraging nod. “You wanna show me what you want?”

Rye nodded once, pushed his menu closer to Jake, and pointed at one of the items in the beverages section.

Jake grinned. “Good choice.” He looked up at the server. “He’d like the mango smoothie, please.”

The server scribbled something down on his notepad and gave Jake a nod, then told the group he’d be back shortly with their drinks.

And the easy chatter— Phil’s easy chatter—returned, this time to the topic of the most recent Percy Jackson book he’d finished reading. Rye seemed to be listening, but Jake could see that Rye’s tension hadn’t really faded. When the server returned and gave each of them their drinks, then went around the table to take their food orders, Rye got even smaller, shrinking down into his seat the moment the server asked him what he wanted.

This time, Jake reached over, slowly and gently, and set his hand on Rye’s upper back, rubbing softly. Rye closed his eyes and seemed to exhale long and deep.

“Did you pick—”

“Oh, oh, can I help you order this time, Rye?” Phil cut in eagerly. “Just show me what you want, okay, and then I’ll tell Max for you!”

Rye’s lips turned upward in a small, amused smile. Then he blinked his eyes open, lifted his chin, and nodded at Phil before pushing his menu across the table.

The rest of the exchange made Jake smile with appreciation for his nephew’s kindness and compassion. Phil shifted his seat closer, his expression turning serious, and when Rye pointed at one of the menu items toward the top of the second column, Phil leaned in, reading the menu, and nodded .

“Okay, yeah.” Phil looked up at the server and said, very deliberately, “He’ll have the California chicken sandwich, please. And thank you.” The young boy then sat up taller, obviously quite proud of himself, and Rye’s smile looked even more amused.

Krista had watched the exchange without saying anything, just like Jake had, but after the server left, she chuckled and reached over to ruffle Phil’s hair. “Sorry about Phil, Rye,” she said, shaking her head. “He’s always eager to help.”

“Hey, Mom!” Phil exclaimed with mock offense, pushing his mom’s hand away.

Rye laughed lightly and pursed his lips as he looked back down at the menu. After another moment, he lifted his eyes again and smiled at Phil. “I appreciate the help,” he said quietly.

The words were the first Rye had spoken since they’d arrived in Reno, and Jake couldn’t help as his heart fluttered and flipped and did all those things it wasn’t supposed to do. His sister caught his eye with another of those annoyingly knowing grins, and heat crept up his cheeks as he shook his head once and glanced back at Phil.

The boy’s expression had softened. “You’re welcome. That’s what friends are for. Right, Uncle Jake?”

Jake was caught off guard by Phil’s words, for whatever reason—though he was sure Krista would be more than happy to tell him the reason and tease him about it later. But he managed a nod. “Yep, kiddo, that’s right.”

And as Phil started talking about Percy Jackson again, picking right back up where he’d left off earlier, Rye turned his head just enough to meet Jake’s gaze. His beautiful blue eyes shone with appreciation, and his expression looked so earnest and real that Jake’s stomach swooped, more heat spreading to his cheeks. Rye smiled softly and held Jake’s gaze for another few seconds before turning back to Phil.

And Jake lowered his eyes to the table again, careful to avoid looking at his sister.