Page 18 of Resurrection
Those are all the right words, but somehow, they don’t reach me. Somehow, seventeen years of hate and pain and not knowing why he did what he did has made me numb on the inside.
I choke back my fury and face him, wondering why he had to pick today, of all days, to show up. "That’s right. You are an asshole, Ty."
The corner of his mouth tilts up a little.
"I don’t think it’s funny," I say flatly.
"No, it’s not," he agrees.
Another long, awkward pause.
"How long are you staying in town this time?" I ask, my voice hard and unfriendly. It hits me that I care way too much about the answer. "Or are you going to disappear again without saying goodbye?"
Tyler lifts his head, and there’s something raw in the way he looks at me, like he’s just as lost as I am. The sun dips lower, dropping long shadows over us and the surrounding nature.
"I just finished working on a score," he says like he’s asking for permission to stay. "And I’m sure you know the band’s on hiatus."
Of course. The band. The band that kept him busy all these years. I feel a bitter laugh creeping up but swallow it back down. "So you’re killing time?"
"I suppose." He steps toward me, then stops. "Is that a problem?"
It is and it isn’t. I can’t figure out which. "I’m surprised you came back." I don’t mean for it to sound like an accusation, but it does.
"It didn’t feel right not to see your dad off."
"Apparently, it takes someone dying to get you back to Sageview Ridge."
"Don’t do this, Naomi."
"Don’t do what?"
"Don’t put more guilt on me. I already feel shitty."
"As you should… It’s been a long time, Ty. A long time for you to finally show up."
"Maybe too long." His eyes meet mine, and they’re full of something I don’t want to name.
"What do you really want?" The question feels like a challenge, a dare for him to come up with something that makes sense.
"I don’t know," he admits. "I thought maybe… I wanted to see how you were. If we could talk."
"You mean if I could forgive you?" The confession stings my tongue, and I can tell by his face that it stings him too.
"I don’t want to leave things unsaid between us. I owe you an apology."
"I don’t care," I blurt out. "I’ve moved on." It’s a lie.
The crunch of gravel underfoot breaks the spell as he takes another tentative step in my direction. The sound is loud in the empty park. He shifts, kicks the rocks with the tip of his boot, the movement sending a small cloud of dust into the air.
"Everything’s different now," he whispers.
"How?"
"I’m not as… Tied up with the work."
"So work is your excuse for not reaching out to me all these years."
"No."
