51. Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty
Rye
Rye hadn’t slept much, and he was up early with the sun. He cooked breakfast for his mom—scrambled eggs, hash browns, and homemade biscuits with sausage gravy. And after they ate, he did the dishes and cleaned up.
When she left for work just before nine, he pulled out his books and tried to study a bit, because that was what it seemed like he should do.
He was much too distracted, though. So he packed his books back up into his suitcase and then went back into his room, cleared off his desk, and pulled out one large sheet of a special, textured origami paper and a diagram he’d downloaded online. And he got started.
By the time the knock came at his front door about two hours later, he’d only just barely made a dent in the complex design. He quickly tucked it away in a drawer in his desk to work on more after he got back from Redding, and he grabbed his cell phone and his suitcase and headed for the door.
The nervous excitement he’d been feeling all morning bubbled up in his chest as he reached for the door handle. He only paused for a moment before pulling the door open, and that nervous excitement turned into something much warmer as his eyes met Jake’s.
“Hi,” he said, his voice catching in his throat. Which was silly, right?
“Hi.” Jake’s voice sounded different too. It didn’t catch, but it was deeper maybe, like it had sounded when they’d said good night the night before.
Rye ducked his head as he remembered how they’d stood on the front porch, their fingers still intertwined, neither wanting to let go. Jake had tentatively reached up, silently asking permission, and when Rye had nodded, he’d gently cupped Rye’s cheek. And Jake’s smile...
Rye lifted his eyes, wanting to see it again, and warmth spread through his chest. It was there, just like the night before—that soft, kind smile that made him feel all sorts of new and amazing things .
“You ready?” Jake asked, and Rye nodded. “Great.”
They got his suitcase loaded up in the trunk, though Rye pulled out one of his GED study guides to keep with him in the front seat in case he wanted to study on the drive. Then, after a quick stop in town for pastries and iced mochas, they were on the road.
He didn’t end up studying at all because for most of the drive, he was much too distracted. Jake talked a lot, as he usually did when the silence needed to be filled. And for an hour or so, they listened to some podcast Jake had been meaning to listen to.
But what was really distracting was that most of the drive, they held hands, his much smaller hand resting comfortably on top of Jake’s larger one.
And it felt every bit as good as it had the night before. Maybe even better, actually, because Rye wasn’t quite as nervous this time. Plus, when Jake did that thing where he let his thumb brush across Rye’s skin, there was an incredible little jolt of... something, and it mixed with that tingling warmth he’d felt the night before. And he just closed his eyes and basked in it.
Safe. Comfortable. Protected. Not alone.
That was what Jake made him feel. It was more than that too, but Rye knew he couldn’t really put any more words to his feelings yet. He still didn’t quite understand them. He just knew he wanted to keep holding Jake’s hand for as long as possible.
They reached the hotel just after four and reluctantly let go of each other long enough to check in and find their room. Thankfully, Jake had requested a room on the first floor this time, so Rye didn’t have to suffer through any claustrophobic rides in a tiny, clunky elevator. He silently reminded himself to thank Jake for that later, when he had the chance.
Their room was nothing special, not like the huge suite they’d had in Reno, but it looked cozy and clean, and Rye managed to not flinch when the door clicked shut loudly behind them. Jake walked ahead and over toward the far bed, closer to the window, limping slightly.
“This is okay, yeah?” he asked, turning back to look at Rye as he set his duffle bag down on the bed. “If you’re not comfortable, I can see if they’ve got a separate room.”
Rye’s stomach dropped immediately, and he shook his head.
“No, no, that would be...” He trailed off, unable to get himself to say the rest of the words, to say just how awful it would be, being alone and hearing the door click closed behind him. He wondered then if Jake knew or realized, and his hand balled up into a fist. “It’s better to... not be alone. Or, I mean... it’s better wh-when I’m with you.” And because he didn’t want things to get serious or sad, he forced a grin and added, “As long as you don’t snore too loudly, that is.”
Jake’s eyes lit up, and he shook his head. “I don’t think I snore. I guess you’ll have to let me know.”
Rye agreed with a nod, and then he plopped down on his back on the nearest bed, leaving his suitcase right at the foot. He closed his eyes for a count of three, then turned his head to watch his friend. Jake was sitting on the edge of his bed facing Rye, and his expression was taut as he slipped off his shoes. When one of Jake’s hands moved to his thigh and he started rubbing his leg with a grimace, Rye rolled over onto his side to face Jake, frowning.
“Your leg is hurting again?” he asked. “We got out of the car twice on the way here. I thought that was supposed to help.”
“Oh, it did.” Jake took a deep breath. “It’s just stiff. It would definitely be worse if we hadn’t stopped on the way.”
Rye nodded in understanding, and he kicked his shoes off and rolled back over onto his back, then turned his head to look at Jake again. When Jake glanced up from his leg and met Rye’s gaze, Rye asked, “Will it... always hurt?”
The answer he got wasn’t the answer he’d expected, because Jake didn’t really answer. Not right away. He stared at Rye for a few long seconds, then he frowned and dropped his eyes back to his leg.
“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Rye said quickly, and he propped himself up on his elbow. “I just... don’t like to see you hurting, and I wish...” I wish I could take your pain away. It sounded a little silly in his head, so he was almost glad the words had stuck in his throat then. He swallowed and continued watching Jake.
Jake’s hand had stopped on his thigh, but it was pressing down, and his jaw was tight. Then, Jake took a long, slow breath, and his grimace was replaced with a small, wistful smile.
“You didn’t upset me,” he assured. “I don’t talk about some things much, so I’m not sure how to say it, I guess.”
“You don’t have to talk about it if it’s hard,” Rye said slowly. “I just want to know you better and... and understand.”
Something about his words made Jake’s smile turn from wistful to some other emotion, not quite as sad. “I want that too,” Jake said, and he took another long breath. “And I want you to feel comfortable asking me anything. It’s, um, just that, yeah, I don’t talk about it much.”
A weak tug in his gut had Rye scooting closer to the edge of the bed, and he swallowed hard. He could have said about the same words to Jake, although there were things he was pretty sure he still wasn’t ready to talk about, even with Jake. But he definitely understood the sentiment and Jake’s hesitation.
Carefully, Rye said, “I... can hold your hand while you talk, if that would help.”
The smile on Jake’s face softened, and he gave a tentative nod. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”
“Oh, good.” Because I already miss holding your hand. Rye didn’t say those words, but he meant them, and he felt them, an ache in his chest much like the one he’d had when he was apart from Jake. “Because I-I would too,” he finished instead, and he pushed himself to his feet.
Jake was watching him with that same soft smile, and his eyes seemed to be searching for something. What, Rye wasn’t sure, but he felt another flush of heat in his cheeks, and he bit his lip.
“Can we sit together on the bed? So we can talk?” he suggested, somehow without stuttering or faltering or hesitating, even though nervous butterflies fluttered around in his stomach.
For once, Jake seemed to have no words. He just nodded silently and scooted over to the other side of the bed to give Rye room, his back propped on the pillows at the headboard. Rye sat and then shifted until he was in the same position as Jake, only with one leg curled up under the other.
And it was more than a little awkward for several seconds. The foot or so of space between them felt huge. But then Jake tentatively let his hand come to rest on the top of the comforter, palm up in invitation, and Rye closed his eyes and slipped his hand into Jake’s.
Soft warmth surrounded him. Soft warmth and safety and reassurance.
A tiny, quiet sigh escaped his lips as he threaded his fingers through Jake’s.
“That’s... better,” he said, and this time, he didn’t feel silly when his voice caught, because Jake squeezed his hand oh-so gently.
“Definitely,” Jake agreed.
They were both quiet for a few minutes, but Rye liked this quiet. He let his thumb slowly drift back and forth this time, rubbing lightly along Jake’s skin. It felt different than when Jake did the same to him, and when he glanced sideways at Jake, he saw Jake’s eyes closed and his chest rising and falling with a carefully controlled rhythm.
He wondered exactly what Jake was feeling, whether Rye’s touch was affecting Jake in the same way Jake’s affected him. And he suddenly felt more than unsure and a little small, because if it wasn’t...
“Does this... feel good?” Rye asked slowly, needing to know .
And Jake didn’t even hesitate. “Very,” he said, the single word sending a rush of heat to Rye’s cheeks.
Rye ducked his head again. “Good.”
They sat there for another few minutes, then Jake finally squeezed his hand lightly.
“So, uh, my leg...” Jake started, and he blew out a short breath. “My doctor says it’ll always hurt to some degree. It’s usually not that bad, though. I do my workout every morning so the rest of my body stays strong, and that’s supposed to help. Usually it’s just stiffness or aching. It’s a little worse after long car rides. But, um, it’s the other things that have stuck with me from the accident that are more difficult to deal with, actually.”
A deep sadness tugged at Rye’s gut, and he shifted so he could look up at Jake. “Like... not getting to walk barefoot in the sand?” he guessed.
Jake nodded. “Yeah. That and, uh”—he paused and his expression tightened—“not being able to go back out on the water. It’s been harder to deal with, I think, than getting used to the pain...”
“But maybe . . . someday?”
“Yeah, I don’t know. I... I hope so?” Jake’s hand squeezed Rye’s again, and he sighed. “You know, when I was a kid, I was obsessed with marine life. Completely obsessed. All I ever wanted was to be a marine biologist,” he said, but there was a deep sadness in his voice that Rye could hear so clearly.
Rye nodded gently, then shifted just a few inches closer, until their shoulders were almost touching, and he hoped it was okay. Or actually, he hoped it was more than okay. He hoped that Jake could feel Rye was here for him. Or something. He wasn’t entirely sure. But he scooted over another few inches and then, holding his breath, he leaned over and let his head rest against Jake’s shoulder.
Jake stiffened slightly and sucked in a breath, and Rye closed his eyes. “Sorry, you sounded sad, and I—”
“No, no. It’s perfect, Rye,” Jake cut in quietly. “I like this.”
Relief and something happy spread through his chest, and Rye nodded. “Okay, good.”
After another moment, Jake continued. “After the accident, I, um, told you how I decided to not try to go back to school.”
Rye nodded again, remembering their conversation at the beach months ago.
“It was the right decision, and I don’t regret it,” Jake said. “It would have been really difficult for me, and what I needed to concentrate on at the time was my recovery and my health. And so, I started writing instead. And I still get to have an impact—I think my articles are important, and since I often get to publish in National Geographic , they get a lot of attention. I think it’s good. I’m happy with my life now. Really happy, actually. But sometimes, it’s still hard. Sometimes I wonder where I’d be if I’d made a different decision. I’d be... a postdoc by now. Or maybe assistant professor somewhere, doing my own research, probably on the effects of micro- and macroplastics on marine life. And I’d be making a difference in that way. It’s, um, another of those things the accident took away from me, and I just... yeah, I sometimes wonder where I’d be otherwise.”
The last few words hit Rye hard, for more than one reason. He forced himself to take two slow, deep breaths, and he squeezed Jake’s hand and turned his head slightly to press his cheek more against Jake’s shoulder.
“You... wouldn’t be here with me,” Rye said, though the awful truth was more than just that. “Just like... just like how I w-wouldn’t be here w-with you, if...”
And he instantly regretted having said the words, because Jake actually gasped, breathing out a rough “god” with his next exhale. “Rye, I...”
“Sorry,” Rye said softly. “Sorry, I... hate what happened to you and—and—and wh-what happened to me.” His words sounded stilted and forced, but he pushed through his stammering. “We can’t control... things or—or change the past and... and we just have to try to move on, and... even with what happened, I’m really, really glad we met.”
“Me too. I am, too,” Jake agreed immediately.
Rye could feel a subtle shift, a stutter almost, in Jake’s next breath. Then Jake’s thumb rubbed lightly along Rye’s skin. It seemed to Rye like a soft reminder or maybe a promise. And it felt good. So good that Rye closed his eyes and let out another of those comfortable sighs. Then he relaxed more into Jake.
“Thanks for listening.” Jake rubbed Rye’s hand again, and Rye hummed a quiet response.
He should probably go sit at the desk so he could study. Or they should watch a movie. Or maybe talk more. After all, Jake had opened up to him about all of that, yet there was still so much Rye hadn’t told him... or anyone. Also, it would be time to have dinner soon.
But all Rye really wanted to do then was to stay right where he was, right in this spot. So he snuggled in deeper, and Jake sighed contentedly.
It did feel good. Really, really good.