Chapter 11 Naomi #2
"One at a time, one at a time!" Tyler laughs, holding his hands up like he’s under arrest. "For now, we’re just chilling. Working on our solo material. Lots of bands take breaks."
Minutes tick by unnoticed.
Finally, I glance at the clock and realize we’re running over. "Okay, rockstars, our time’s up!" I announce, making a cutting motion at my neck with my hand. "Leave some for next time. We’ll meet Thursday after school. Make sure the room is clean before you go."
The teenagers start to pack their instruments, groaning and asking if Tyler can come on Thursday too.
"If he’s available," I say, then clap my hands. "Chop, chop. Let’s wrap it up quickly."
Eventually, they’re done. Miranda’s parents—they’re the ones with the van—are already waiting by the door when the teens file out. They stare curiously at Tyler hanging back while we say our goodbyes.
And then it’s really just me and him in the cavernous rehearsal space. And I’m already regretting inviting him.
The room is silent except for the phantom echo of Phoenix Down still buzzing in my ears.
We’re perched on the edge of the stage, our legs dangling, Tyler’s guitar filling the space with lazy notes.
The moment feels familiar, like stepping into a memory.
Like time hasn’t changed us, even though I know it has.
I’m aware of every breath, every beat of my heart as I sit next to him.
"Feels like another lifetime, huh?" Tyler says.
"Feels like yesterday," I reply, my voice softer than I intended. I want to hold on to this, every detail of being alone with him again. Because I know it won’t last.
He stops strumming for a moment and looks around like he’s trying to take it all in. "You think those kids know how lucky they are?" he asks, giving me that crooked smile.
"I think they know how lucky they are today." I nudge his shoulder, and the touch lingers in the air between us. "I can’t believe you still have time for small-town talent shows."
"Hey, don’t knock it." His fingers find the strings again. "Gotta keep it real somehow."
"So is LA as wild as they say?" I ask, shifting the conversation away from how much it means to me that he showed up.
"Crazier," he says with a laugh. "Recording sessions that go all night, parties that last even longer. I think I’ve slept a total of ten hours in the past ten years."
"And you’re still alive?" I tease, leaning back on my hands. "Impressive."
What are you doing, Naomi?
"You should see the studio we recorded at once," he says, getting animated. "It’s this old converted theater. Crazy acoustics. We did a whole week without stepping outside."
There’s a long pause. I don’t know what to say.
"So how much is true?" I finally ask, trying to keep it light. "I mean, with all the rumors. Did you really jump into a pool from a hotel roof?"
"Half true," he admits, a little sheepish. "It was a second-floor balcony. And it wasn’t just me. The whole band did it." He shakes his head. "We were a little less rockstar about the landing."
I laugh, imagining the chaos. "Wish I could’ve seen that. Your less-than-perfect landing, that is."
"You're asking about LA like you've never been anywhere," he supplies.
"All in passing."
He keeps playing, switching from one familiar tune to another. I ask about that year that got him noticed, if he’d had any idea it would change everything. He’s honest, almost vulnerable, telling me he didn’t expect anything but a good time. He auditioned because he thought he had nothing to lose.
"Is it true…" I ask carefully. "About you and Justice?"
"The tension, you mean?"
"Yes."
"Yes and no." He shrugs. "How do you replace a man’s best friend?
" He stops talking as if needing a few moments to gather his thoughts.
"You gotta understand that the dynamics in the band are always complex.
The more money the band brings, the more muddied it gets.
Especially since we write our own songs… I mean wrote."
We remain silent again for a several heartbeats.
"You ever think about what it was like before the craziness?"
"All the time." He gives me a look that’s both warm and a little sad. "I miss it."
There it is. The thing neither of us wants to say out loud. It hangs in the air, daring me to respond. Instead, I shift back to safer ground.
"You never answered my question. How long you’ll be in town for," I note, like the answer isn’t more important to me than it should be.
"Long as I want. I may have some studio work in LA if the producers want me back on the show for the next season, but it’s nothing solid yet." He hesitates. "I wanted to see you."
I’m glad I’m sitting down, because I don’t trust my legs. "Guess you found me."
"Guess I did," he says, looking relieved. "Wanna grab some food? Ernie’s is still around, right?"
The mention of Ernie’s hits me like a wave. All those late nights and greasy burgers, sitting in his beat-up car, thinking we had forever. "Yeah. It’s still around." I try to sound casual, but on the inside, I’m all fire.
"Or we could do something else," he adds quickly. "Whatever you want."
"Ernie’s is fine," I say, feeling the flutter in my chest again. "I haven’t been there in a while. Perfect opportunity."
"Sounds great." He packs up his guitar with the same care he used to take with me, and we leave the rehearsal room together. We’re walking side by side, and I’m hyper-aware of everything. How close we are. How natural it feels. Like no time has passed but also like I’m holding an electrical wire.
In the parking lot, he points at an Audi. It’s a far cry from the rusty thing he drove in high school. His father bought him a used Honda Civic for his seventeenth birthday, and he was so attached to that car.
"Hop in," Tyler says, opening the door with a flourish. "No sticky seats this time."
I get into the passenger seat. "You’ll drop me off back here after?"
"Of course." He rounds the vehicle and settles behind the wheel.
The interior smells like leather and him, a mix that’s both new and nostalgic. I buckle up, trying not to read too much into this. Into any of it.
Tyler’s car glides down familiar streets and I relax into the leather seat, pretending this is just a ride with an old friend and that the radio playing softly and Tyler humming along is no big deal.
We pass places that are loaded with history, each one a mile marker in the story of us. I point out what’s changed and what hasn’t, trying to focus on the scenery instead of the guy behind the wheel.
"There’s that taco stand. Remember?" I say, gesturing out the window. "We used to get dinner for a three dollars and twenty-five cents."
"Sure do," he replies and glances over at me. "Best cheap date spot in town. It’s still there."
"Looks like it. But there’s competition now. Big, fancy restaurants. Some chef from San Diego opened a sushi place."
"Just what Sageview Ridge needs," he jokes. "You gonna take me there next?"
I snort, turning my head to look at his profile. "Like you’d set foot in a sushi place."
He laughs as he takes a right down a street that seems smaller than I remember. "I’d set foot in any place you take me to."
I ignore the comment, watching my childhood landmarks roll by. There’s the movie theater where we had our first real date and the park where we used to hang out after school, making out under the stars.
"Wow," Ty says, his voice full of awe. "They haven’t torn down the drive-in."
"No, they haven’t."
"They still show movies there?"
I nod, feeling the pull of the past. "Friday nights. Two for one."
"What about this place?" he asks and gestures at a new strip mall in the distance. "Wasn’t that the old video store?"
I roll my eyes, remembering all the bad action movies he used to rent. "Guess you’ll have to find somewhere else to get your B-movie fix."
He gives me a playful shove, his eyes still on the road. "You loved those movies. Admit it."
"Maybe," I say, letting myself get caught up in this easy back-and-forth. It feels dangerously good.
We’re pulling up to Ernie’s, and I’m steeling myself for what it’ll feel like to sit with him again, late-night-burger style. Then my phone rings—a buzz that snaps me back to reality.
I see Koda’s name and feel my heart sink. It’s never a good sign when the owner of the casino where your business is located calls you at this hour. It’s not necessarily late, but it’s not working hours either.
I’m tempted to let the call go to voicemail, but my sense of responsibility doesn’t allow for it. Instead, I swipe at the Answer button.
"Koda?"
"Naomi. How are you?" Koda says, his voice serious and slightly annoyed.
"I’m fine. How are you?"
He gets right to the point. "Your brother’s here again. He’s had too much to drink, and he’s making a scene at the tables."
Damn it, Adri.
"Okay. I’ll be there," I say, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. This isn’t the first time my brother’s made a fool out of himself at the casino, but I thought that with time, he’d mellow out.
I thought all the bad memories from his deployment would eventually get muddy, and he’d sleep better and drink less. I was wrong.
"What’s up?" Tyler inquires.
"I’m so sorry to do this, but Adri’s at the casino. Drinking and causing trouble," I admit, my excitement turning to embarrassment. "Can I take a rain check?"
"Of course. Want me to drive you there?" he asks, no hesitation, already turning the steering wheel.
"You don’t have to. I can—" Get an Uber.
"I’ll take you." His voice is gentle, understanding but firm. He makes a quick U-turn, Ernie’s already fading in the rearview.
I don’t know what to say. The carefree nostalgia has twisted into something more complicated. "Thanks," I manage, staring at my hands. "I appreciate it."
The mood in the car is different now, charged and uncertain. "Is this a regular thing?" Tyler breaks the silence.
I shrug, not ready to spill the whole messy story. "Depends on the week."
"He’s okay, though?"
I look out the window. "I don’t know," I reply quietly, preparing myself for what’s next, for the mess my brother’s made and the mess I’m making of my own heart.