63. Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Two
Rye
Rye turned the paper sculpture over in his hands, studying the shaping he’d completed the night before. The sea turtle was the same he’d been working on for months and months now; he’d had to restart three or four times when he’d made mistakes and hadn’t liked how some part of it had turned out. This one, though—this final version—was about as perfect as he thought he could make it.
It was a loggerhead sea turtle, modeled with a medium-brown, textured paper, and the whole thing was just big enough to fit in his hand. Each ridge in its shell, each crease of its flippers had been made carefully and with as much precision as he could.
He smiled and stood, cradling it in his hands. Then he walked out of his room and down the hallway toward the kitchen, where Jake was making them tea.
Pausing at the end of the hallway, Rye peeked around the corner. Jake had just poured the tea into their mugs and was discarding the used tea leaves in the trash. He didn’t seem to notice Rye yet. With a silly half-smile, Rye cleared his throat and said, “I’m back, but I need you to close your eyes before I come out.”
Jake’s brow furrowed with confusion, but he complied and then shook his head. “Alright. But why am I closing my eyes?”
Rye didn’t answer. Instead, he started walking again in Jake’s direction, watching carefully to be sure Jake wasn’t peeking. He stopped just in front of Jake, who had turned to face Rye as he’d approached, and he glanced up briefly at his boyfriend and then back down at the sea turtle.
He hadn’t quite thought all of this through, and he frowned. “Mmm, hang on,” he said. And Jake grumbled something—though his tone was playful—as Rye left, hurrying over to the coffee table. He paused for half a second before setting the sculpture right in the center of the table. Then he turned around and got the two mugs full of hot tea, which he also brought to the coffee table .
When everything was set up, he returned to Jake and took Jake’s hand, threading their fingers together. “Keep your eyes closed,” he instructed.
Jake laughed. “Okay, but, uh, promise you won’t run me into anything?”
Rye shook his head, though he knew Jake wouldn’t see, and he squeezed Jake’s hand. “Trust me.”
“I do,” Jake said with a grin.
“Good.” Rye took Jake’s other hand, too, and then started walking backwards slowly, leading Jake the short distance over to the couch. He guided Jake the rest of the way, helping to position him facing the coffee table right at the middle cushion.
“’Kay, sit here,” Rye said, releasing Jake’s hands. “And keep your eyes closed.”
Again, Jake complied, although he frowned a little as he carefully lowered himself onto the couch. Rye stood there awkwardly for another moment, considering, and he glanced back down the hallway. His mom’s door was still closed. She’d retired to get ready for bed shortly after Jon and Tanya had left a half hour or so ago, and Rye figured she’d probably already fallen asleep. Like him, she was exhausted. The whole last few days had been rough on all of them, and he knew she’d probably been nearly as affected by everything as he had.
He did want this moment just for him and Jake, though, and so he quickly turned back to Jake. “Just a minute. Do not open your eyes,” he said sternly.
Jake’s smile widened, which sent a rush of warmth through Rye’s chest, and Jake lifted his hands up and covered his eyes. “I won’t peek. Promise.”
Satisfied, Rye jogged back down the hall, his light footsteps silent on the plush carpet. He paused just in front of his mom’s door and then grinned. Her snoring was perfectly audible, even from the hallway. He turned back around and made his way over to the couch again. Then he lowered himself onto the cushions and pulled his feet up to sit cross-legged.
Jake’s eyebrows arched, and he tilted his head. “So? Can I look now?”
“Mm-hmm. Now you can.” Rye’s heart leapt in his chest as he watched Jake first lower his hands and then blink his eyes open. It seemed to take a moment for Jake’s vision to adjust and then for him to find the table and the sculpture. And then his smile faded and his eyes widened, and he mouthed a quiet “oh, wow” as he scooted forward to the edge of the couch.
“Wow. Wow, Rye . . .”
Jake reached out, his mouth slightly parted in awe, and gently picked up the turtle, cradling it in both hands as though it were the most fragile thing he’d ever held. He lifted it slowly, bringing it up closer to his face so he could study it. And he seemed at a complete loss for words.
“I made it. For you,” Rye mumbled, his voice faltering as Jake tore his eyes away from the turtle. The amazement in Jake’s gaze sent another warm shiver through him.
“It’s... it’s stunning. I don’t know what to say. It’s incredible. You made this? The detail, the—I just... I love it. I love it.”
Heat spread up Rye’s neck and into his cheeks, and he pursed his lips and nodded. “I finished it last night. I couldn’t sleep, and I needed... something to, you know...” His words stuck in his throat, and he swallowed and frowned.
But Jake just shook his head again. “I understand,” he said softly, and he looked back at the sea turtle again, carefully lifting it to inspect the detail on the underside of the belly. He murmured another “wow” or maybe two, and then he said, “It’s a loggerhead, right? The shape of the scutes and the detail, even the eyes, it’s all just... wow, I can’t believe it...”
With infinite care, Jake set the sea turtle sculpture back down on the coffee table, and then he turned to Rye, his expression softening. “Thank you,” Jake breathed, and Rye nodded, holding Jake’s gaze for several seconds.
Finally, when he couldn’t stay still any longer, Rye pushed himself over until he was closer to Jake, folded his knees under himself, and cuddled up against Jake’s chest. He breathed in deeply, then muffled a quiet laugh into Jake as the faint scent of sawdust tickled his nose.
“What?” Jake asked, his breath hot against the top of Rye’s head. Jake’s arm slipped around Rye’s shoulders, and Rye sighed and melted into the embrace.
It felt good and comfortable, and for a moment, Rye forgot that Jake had even asked him a question. He chuckled again and shook his head. “Nothing. I... like this,” he said, and then some more words started to spill out, though they weren’t what he’d been thinking about at all. “I did miss you the last two days. I’m sorry I needed to rest. Thursday was... Thursday night was not easy... at all.”
He didn’t want to say more. He didn’t want to go back to the place he’d been for the last few days—lost in an exhausted, fitful sleep filled with strange nightmares that never seemed to end. He’d finally woken up out of it earlier that afternoon, and he’d had a good evening with his mom and uncle and aunt.
And with Jake.
Jake made pretty much everything better.
And really, from here, everything had to get even better.
Because in a way, Rye was more free now. The always-there tickle in the back of his mind, the voice— that voice—hushed but ever angry, the cloud over him... threatening... Those things were still there, and he thought they probably always would be. But there was now maybe some other layer of something separating him from all of it. A space, protecting him .
The threats he heard, the words echoing in his head, the anger and rage, they didn’t feel quite as acute anymore. Because Raymond Hirsh couldn’t ever hurt him again. At least not physically.
He slid his hand low along Jake’s midsection, stopping at Jake’s side, and he took a long, slow breath. “Thursday night and last night were both... awful,” he admitted. He didn’t want to talk about it, but he also didn’t want to hide things from Jake. Not if his words were working.
“Mmm, I can imagine. They weren’t that easy for me either. I only, um, I... It was really hard to not be able to talk to you. I almost wanted to drive up to Eureka and just buy you a new phone so I could text you good night and... and see how you were.”
Rye smiled against Jake’s chest and then laughed lightly. “That would have been a little, um, what’s that word Phil’s always using lately?”
“Extra?”
“Yeah, that’s it. I think he would have said it was extra extra,” Rye teased, and he closed his eyes as Jake’s hand touched his forearm, fingertips trailing across the thin cotton of Rye’s long-sleeved T-shirt. “I would have appreciated it, though. I... needed to be home. I needed to be here, with my mom. But I missed you too. I think... I think I needed you too. I’m really glad you came over tonight.”
Something in what he’d said must have shaken Jake a bit, because Rye felt a tremble in his boyfriend’s large body, and Jake’s arm tightened around him as his hand flattened on Rye’s forearm.
Jake didn’t say anything right away, though, and so Rye just let out another long breath and relaxed into Jake. He didn’t know how long they ended up staying there like that, but by the time he moved again, straightening up and then reaching over to grab his tea from the coffee table, the tea was barely still warm. He took a small sip, but frowned and shook his head.
“One of these days, we’ll drink our tea while it’s still hot,” Jake joked, and his hand came to rest low on Rye’s back, as though he couldn’t stand the loss of contact.
Rye didn’t blame him. He couldn’t stand it either.
He set the mug back down and then cuddled up in his spot against Jake’s chest. “Mmm, this spot, though.”
His words didn’t make much sense in the context of what Jake had just said, although they did in his head, and Jake just wrapped his arms back around Rye and hummed an agreement, the sound rumbling in his chest.
“You’re comfortable?” Jake asked, his voice muffled into Rye’s hair.
“Mm-hmm, very.”
“Good. I am too. ”
Jake seemed to hesitate for a second, and then Rye felt him shift slightly. A second later, Jake’s fingers brushed lightly along his cheek, and Jake tucked a strand of Rye’s hair back behind his ear. His skin tingled where Jake touched him, the feeling rippling all the way down low, and he held back a quiet moan that wanted to escape.
God, that felt incredible.
Touch me again.
He didn’t say anything, because his heart was pounding much too hard in his chest, but Jake seemed to understand anyway, and he repeated the touch, this time letting his hand slip all the way back along the nape of Rye’s neck. Gently, lightly, barely a whisper.
This time, Rye did moan, and he flexed his fingers into Jake’s side, eager to feel closer.
“Mmm, sorry. Is this okay?” Jake’s voice was low and deep, with a heat to it that Rye could somehow feel.
He couldn’t nod because he couldn’t really move, but he breathed a quiet “yes,” followed quickly by “very.”
Jake hummed another warm breath against the top of Rye’s head, and his fingers continued playing at the back of Rye’s neck. And Rye made another sound, this one coming out a little more needy than the last. Which surprised him. A lot.
He tensed and then straightened up a bit, and Jake’s hand fell away as Jake, too, straightened up. Jake cleared his throat, probably about to speak, but Rye shook his head and tilted his chin back to look up at his boyfriend. Concerned brown eyes stared back at him, caring and gentle and everything Rye knew Jake to be.
He reached up this time. He cupped Jake’s cheek, ran his hand back until his fingers felt the warm, bare skin of the nape of Jake’s neck. Then he swallowed hard and stretched up and pressed his lips lightly to Jake’s.
It was all warmth and softness, their kiss. And it deepened this time as Rye held them close, not wanting to part. Jake moaned a low sound, and their lips moved together, caressing and exploring in some wholly wonderful and new way. Heat flooded Rye’s chest and worked its way lower, and when Jake’s hand found the small of his back, Rye felt a twinge of something different. Something he’d never really felt before but somehow immediately recognized.
Desire and arousal.
He pulled back, breaking the kiss and lowering his head to rest against Jake’s chest. His breaths came in short, fast pants, and he could feel Jake’s chest rising and falling rapidly too. Jake’s hand had stopped moving right in the center of Rye’s back, and it seemed to sear into him, all heat and pressure. And it was all suddenly traveling south.
It felt amazing. And also terrifying.
He pulled away a little more, and he mumbled, “Sorry.”
Jake’s hand fell lower on his back. “Mmm, no, no,” Jake said. “That was amazing. Just, um, are you okay?”
Rye sucked in a breath at the question, because he honestly had no idea how to answer it.
Yes, and no.
“Yes,” he managed, though his voice sounded breathless and rough. “I . . . just . . .”
“Was it too much?” Jake’s touch loosened, and Rye let himself sit up a little more, putting a tad more space between them.
He didn’t like that, however, and he frowned and forced himself forward again, settling against Jake with his head buried in the crook of Jake’s shoulder and his hand resting on Jake’s stomach. With more care than seemed possible, Jake’s arm settled back around Rye’s shoulders, and there was a light squeeze that was somehow protective and reassuring but also uncertain at the same time.
“Rye?”
Making himself take a few slow, measured breaths, Rye shook his head. “It was just overwhelming,” he said after another moment. “It was... a lot.”
“Mmm, okay, yeah. Yeah, I understand that,” Jake agreed, though the concern in his voice was unmistakable. He paused for a second and let out a slow breath of his own. “I’ve never felt anything quite like that before. I thought it was incredible.”
Rye nodded in agreement. “It was.” Then he swallowed hard and closed his eyes. “Can we, um, try again, but just...”
“Just... a shorter, lighter kiss?” Jake guessed, and Rye nodded once more.
“Yeah, that might be good.”
“I would love that,” Jake said, his tone earnest and caring, and when Jake’s fingers very, very lightly grazed up Rye’s arm and then along his jaw, Rye tilted his head back to look up at his boyfriend.
Jake still looked as kind and caring as he always had, and with a brief flicker of shame, Rye wished he could just not have to think so much. He wished he could just feel all the good and let things progress like they probably would under normal circumstances.
“All of this is new,” he explained slowly. Not that he needed to say anything more, but he really wanted Jake to understand .
“It is to me too,” Jake said, and he smiled softly as he cupped Rye’s cheek. “And I don’t ever want to do anything to make you uncomfortable, so I’m sorry if I—”
Rye shook his head, cutting Jake off, and he dropped his chin for a moment, blond curls falling down over his forehead. Jake silently reached up and brushed them back, tucking Rye’s hair behind his ear.
“I love it when you do that,” Rye admitted, and then he said, “And you didn’t do anything wrong. It was, um, me. It was my... um, I... I felt...”
It was too hard to talk about, even though he would have really liked to be able to at least tell Jake the truth—that what he’d felt had been arousal, a tug in his groin, a need. He’d never felt anything like it before, or, well, never... in a pleasant way. Never in a way that didn’t involve him also feeling sick, nauseous, shameful.
But he wasn’t ready to talk about that yet. And he wasn’t ready for anything more. And he wasn’t even sure, now, if he wanted another kiss tonight. Even just a light kiss.
So he leaned back against Jake and let Jake hold him.
It was a few long moments later when Rye was finally able to relax ever so slightly into Jake’s embrace.
And as he did, Jake seemed to relax too. He buried his head into Rye’s hair and breathed deeply. Then he murmured, “Mmm, you’re just... beautiful.”
The compliment sent a burst of warmth through Rye’s chest, and he closed his eyes as Jake continued.
“I think you know this,” Jake began, his voice soft, like his touch, “but I want to say it again, just in case. I want nothing more than for you to be comfortable in whatever we do. I don’t want anything more than what you’re really ready for and what you want.” Jake’s chest rose and fell as he took a slow, controlled breath, and then he said, “And, um, I wanted to say I understand. If you’re thinking what I think you are, about not having felt things like this before. It’s the same for me. But we can talk about that some other time. Maybe when we’ve both had a chance to, um, process it.”
That made sense to Rye, and he nodded weakly against Jake’s chest. He did remember Jake telling him about his own lack of experience, how he’d tried to date a few times but he’d never really felt anything, and every attempt he’d made hadn’t gotten him anywhere. Jake had said he assumed he was somewhere on the asexual spectrum; Rye didn’t really know too much about all that—sexuality and asexuality and whatever kind of spectrum it could be. But he understood what Jake had said, and right now, he was quite glad Jake agreed they could put off talking about it .
He did need time to process it. And it seemed Jake probably did, too.
More than that, he was also starting to feel exhaustion creep back in, and he wondered if maybe, now that he’d seen Jake and talked a bit and had some semblance of a normal evening, maybe he’d be able to sleep tonight without all the nightmares and strange, unsettling dreams that had been plaguing him for the last couple of nights.
Rye tilted his head back, and Jake shifted to look down at him. He blinked and nodded, hoping the gesture communicated what he needed it to. And he moved his hand to Jake’s chest, setting it right in the middle so he could feel Jake’s heartbeat.
You can kiss me again. Just a little kiss. I want that.
Jake didn’t move, which wasn’t surprising, since he certainly couldn’t read Rye’s mind, even if it seemed sometimes like he could. So Rye lifted his hand up and touched Jake’s cheek and then stretched up just enough to brush his lips—very lightly—against Jake’s. Lightly and briefly. A sweet, soft, tender kiss that didn’t push for more this time.
And it was perfect exactly like that, because it felt just as he expected it to. It felt like a promise.