Page 167 of Resurrection
"It’s rough," he admits.
"But it’s yours. No one else’s, and I can’t wait to hear it."
He smiles, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "You’re the reason Icando this," he says.
"Sure, I’ll take the credit." Another pause. "You’re serious about the studio?" I ask, still not quite sure he meant it. He spent half his life in big cities and on the move. The thought of Tyler Brady putting down roots is still hard to grasp.
"I am." He pulls me to him, my back against his chest. "The spot Jon just helped me close a deal on is perfect. Won’t take much to get it ready."
"And you’ve got a little helper too," I say, referring to Asher.
"Nomes," he whispers in my ear. "I’ve got lots of music in me. I couldn’t do it when I was in the band. I just couldn’t. But I think it’s time I get it out, and I think this will be a good start. And then…then when the time comes, we’ll see."
"You won’t hate me for it? For keeping you here?"
"Your family’s here. I know how important it is to you. My family’s here too. Just a short drive away." He laughs, the sound rolling across the hills. "Maybe the first record we track at my studio will be Phoenix Down’s debut EP."
"Really?" I twist to see his face. "You want to produce them?"
"Why not?" he says. "The kids have talent. I can whip them into shape if they want to keep doing it."
We sit like that, the light changing around us, the future spreading out below. The quiet settles in, comfortable and full.
"What’s Adri up to?" Ty finally asks.
I think of my brother, the new light in his eyes. "He’s taking time off work. Traveling. Finally. Focusing on his mental health. Sent me a picture from Tijuana last night."
"Good. That asshole needs it. I'm just not sure Tijuana is a nice place to visit if you're trying to lay off booze."
"Stop calling my brother names." I pause, then joke, "Only I can do that."
"Right. All of sudden you’re the protective, responsible sibling, and he’s the one who we need to be concerned about."
"He’s been through a lot. I was too blind to see it. But he spent his twenties in the military. That wasn’t easy."
Ty kisses the top of my head. "Okay, I’ll try to be nicer to him. But he also needs to be nicer to me. That constant threat of losing my balls is getting old."
"Well, let’s all go have dinner and hang out when he’s back," I suggest. I really don’t want to see the two most important men in my life arguing anymore.
"Then I’ll do my best," Ty promises.
We sit in silence again, staring at the valley, studying the field of windmills, the tiny palm trees, and the outlines of buildings and snaking roads.
"Ty," I start, pulling away just enough to face him. I reach into my pocket, the promise ring tight and familiar in my grip. I fish it out and hold it out to him.
His eyes lock on the ring first, then look into mine, and I see it there—the fear. The fear that I’ll change my mind.
"You can’t give it back, Nomes," he murmurs in a quivering voice. "I gave it to you because I loved you, still do. And you’re mine."
"No," I say softly. "I’m returning it to you because I want you to give it to me again. But this time, you gotta mean it."
"Oh." He thinks for a second. There’s a frown on his face, then he grabs the ring from my palm. "I should get you a better one. You deserve?—"
"I want this one." I shake my head. "I just want another promise along with it, Ty. I want to know it’s real."
His expression softens, his eyes warm and true. The panic falls away, replaced with something I never thought I’d see again.
"Naomi," he says. "It’s always been real."
