Page 162 of Resurrection
The door opens, and I see them, a flood of faces and voices. Mom rushing in, worry written across her features. Ty’s parents behind her. And Ty.
Yes, we're going to be okay. I know it now with a certainty I’ve never had before.
Better late than never.
37TYLER
We standon the hospital terrace, the dawn warm and pink like fresh flowers, like promises, like second chances. Her fingers grip the railing, and mine grip the moment. I can feel the hum of everything beneath us—safety, change, forever—just a word away, if I’m brave enough.
She’s beautiful in the new light, the kind of beautiful that wrecks me. I watch her, letting the night’s terror settle. Letting my heart catch up. I need to say this right. Her eyes find mine, and I run a hand through my hair, nervous.
"He's okay, right?" Her voice is tentative, and I know she's thinking of the same thing. How close we came to disaster. How much it all still matters. And how, in the bigger picture, some things aren't as important as we thought. Things like some dumb kiss almost twenty years ago that meant nothing.
"Yeah." I nod, reassuring both of us. "Your brother is stronger than he thinks."
"Have you heard anything else?"
"Just whatever we already know. The authorities don’t think Decker actually meant to hurt anyone. He was shooting at the ceiling mostly. I think his only real target was Pratt." I keep my voice steady, but the memories of the classroom horror are there, vivid. "Your brother is a hero. He talked him down. Convinced him to lower his weapon. That was enough to allow Decker to be caught."
"And Lachlan?"
"Scratched up a bit in the chaos. Nothing serious."
Naomi looks at the news van parked further down the lot. "Maybe that’ll teach him not to be an entitled asshole anymore."
"I don’t know if he’s fixable."
"What happens to Decker now?"
"He’s going to be prosecuted. The outcome is hard to predict. He could be in jail for the rest of his life, or he could be committed to some mental institution. He’s clearly not well." I pause, wait a little. "We got lucky, Nomes. Nobody died." She lets out a breath. Her fingers loosen on the railing. I take her hand, needing to hold on to her, on to this. "I'm glad your brother's okay," I say, feeling the warmth of her skin, feeling everything.
"I am too," she admits. The wind catches her hair, and she pushes it back. "It was some wake-up call."
"It was," I agree. Things seem to have taken a different perspective all of sudden. You see what’s important clearly now. It’s this place, the people in this town, Naomi. It’s not the stage and not being in front of a crowd. And I know it now—I made the right decision when I declined the Vortex gig.
"Naomi," I begin, then stop, uncertain how to fit the whole universe into words. "I think—" I start again, taking a breath. "I think I'm parting ways with my manager."
Her eyes widen in surprise.
I push forward, not giving doubt the space to grow. "We're not seeing eye to eye anymore. I don’t want to leave you right now, don't want to be away from you."
"Ty—" Her breath catches, a soft, startled sound.
"Don’t say I’ll hate you because I have to give up music. I don’t have to. I can still do music. I just need to do it differently."
"I’d never make you choose."
"I won the bet. I still have my wish." I hold her gaze, steady and clear. "We lost seventeen years. During that time, I put my career first. I don't want to lose another minute. I want to put you first for once. That’s my wish."
She blinks, absorbing this new reality, her grip tightening on the moment, on me. "You're sure?"
I've never been more sure. "I want to be here, with you. It's all I’ve wanted since I left. I just realized it too late."
We stand close together, the early light wrapping us in the promise of more.
"Ty," she says, her voice full of something I thought I'd never hear again. "You're serious?"
I nod. "More than I've ever been."
