Chapter 13 Naomi
Tyler Brady kissed me, and suddenly, we were seventeen again, standing outside his beat-up Honda, swearing we’d never leave each other. Now, I’m swearing to myself, trying to rub the thought of him off my brain like an oil stain.
The audacity.
"Sweetheart, why don’t we use that blue dinner set your dad gave me on our twentieth anniversary?" Mom’s voice comes from the kitchen.
"Where's it?" I ask as I enter her domain.
Her hands are everywhere, stirring, chopping, opening cabinets. There’s a distinct scent of tamales swimming through the air. It’s her coveted family recipe, and I wish I could be excited about this dinner. But I’m not.
My thoughts are complete and utter chaos because of Tyler Brady.
It’s been a few days since that parking lot kiss, and I’ve been desperately trying to erase the sensation of his lips on mine to no avail. Even the first wave of the Coachella crowd flooding Oasis this week hasn’t succeeded in distracting me.
"It's in the same cupboard it's been at for the past five years," Mom supplies.
"No, it's not. You have glasses there now."
Mom sets the knife on the counter and moves to the living room to check. She flicks her wrist toward the bottom like I can read her mind. I guess I can mostly. We’ve done this so many times, I can predict what she’s thinking before she even says it.
"You hid Dad's gift?" I say flinging the cabinet doors open. The set is indeed there. It used to be behind the glass in the top cabinet where the glasses are. I wonder when she moved it out of sight. I wonder why too.
"And put more napkins," Mom adds. "You know how messy your brother gets."
"Did he say what time he’s coming?"
"Seven." Mom returns to the kitchen to finish whatever she was doing while I retrieve the set.
Forget about the kiss.
Forget about those blue eyes.
Forget about how it made you feel in all the right places.
This is the mantra I repeat as I continue with my task.
I lay out the forks when I hear a car engine roaring outside, then the bell rings. I know it’s not Adri. Adri doesn’t announce himself. He just barrels in.
Mom has just set a bowl of salad on the table and is the one to answer the door. She's wiping her hands on her apron as she crosses the room.
"Hi, Mrs. Medina," a man on the porch says. My heart starts to beat faster. "I was in the area. I just thought I’d—"
"Oh my goodness, Tyler!" Mom’s voice is warm and delighted. "You come in here, mijo."
It’s so strange to hear her thrilled about something these days.
"Is Naomi around, by any chance?"
What is he doing here? How dare he?
I move to the door, where Tyler's standing, wearing that lopsided smile, with a little bouquet of flowers in one hand. They’re pink and yellow, the cheerful kind you get from a grocery store.
"Look who dropped by," Mom says excitedly, nudging him toward the dining area.
"Hi." He glances at me like he’s expecting something—probably not the frosty stare I give him.
"What are you doing here, Ty?" I ask, flat and unfriendly, my fists on my hips.
"Was passing by," he supplies as he hands the bouquet to my mom.
She takes the flowers, her face glowing. "How thoughtful! Thank you, Tyler. God knows we could use some color in this house." She rushes off to find the right vase for them. "You’re just in time for dinner! Wash your hands!" Her voice carries through the room as she turns on the water.
"Oh, I didn’t mean to impose." He scratches the back of his neck, looking unsure.
"Damn right," I grit out low enough for my mom not to hear it.
"Of course you’ll stay." She doesn’t take no for an answer, returning to the dining area with her favorite red vase with the flowers in it.
She puts them in the middle of the table like a centerpiece.
"I made tamales." She shoos him toward the sink.
"You know we always have extra. Plus, this is Grandma’s special recipe. "
He looks at me again, but I turn away without saying a word, pretending the napkin placement is the most important task in the world.
I know he’ll do the opposite of what I want him to anyway.
And I know it’s not for his sake, but for my mother’s.
She’s lonely, and Tyler Brady was always her little ray of sunshine since Adri is anything but.
If Letty Medina has someone in her sights she wants to fuss over and feed, it’s tough to say no to her.
"Are you sure that’s okay, Mrs. Medina?"
"Sweet boy." She pats his back gently. "Of course it’s okay. You’ve been part of this family ever since my son brought you in twenty years ago."
"Twenty-one," I correct solemnly.
"Has it really been that long?" My mom raises her eyebrows, a flicker of surprise dancing in her eyes. But then her features relax, soft like sunset clouds. "Who’s keeping track anyway? Right, Tyler?"
He gives a casual nod, surrendering completely. Then he rolls up his sleeves to wash his hands.
I wipe the table again for good measure—anything to keep my eyes off him.
The memories are coming back too fast. Not just of the two of us planning a life together while sneaking out.
Everything. The dinners at this table when Tyler would casually drop by or when Adri would drag him here to try some new dish my father had created.
Mom clatters some plates in front of Tyler. "Ty, you set these. Naomi’s not doing it right," she jokes, her voice teasing.
"Sure," he says, still appearing uncertain but doing it anyway.
I’m too flustered to pay attention to the sound of an engine in the driveway. I come back to my senses only when the front door slams.
"Mom, you made extra, right?" Adri shouts. "I’m starving. Didn’t have time to grab lunch."
Then he walks into the dining area, all six-foot-something of him, loosening his hair from the bun, his shirt a little wrinkled, like he’s had an extra-long day of sheriffing.
His eyes land on Tyler, and I swear the room temperature drops ten degrees.
Tyler’s shoulders go stiff. Adri is silent for a beat too long, his stare intense, heavy. "I didn’t realize we were feeding the whole damn valley."
"Adri, sweetheart," Mom warns, her voice low and a little sharp.
I hold my breath, waiting for Ty to bolt.
All these years later, I still don’t know what happened between them. One day, they were inseparable, and the next, they were enemies.
"Adri," Ty says politely. "How are you?"
My brother scoffs with a frown. He shrugs out of his jacket, washes his hands, and plops down at the table. His gaze is still hard on Ty. "Guess it’s good you made extra," he mutters, glaring at Mom.
She just shakes her head and continues to put out the side dishes. "I don’t know what’s gotten into you kids."
"Adulthood," I supply coldly, helping her to load up the plates with steaming tamales.
Once we’re done, we both sit down.
Tyler sits too, as far from Adri as possible.
I’m in the chair across from Ty, wishing I could vanish into thin air.
My brother’s eyes are shooting daggers at the man who was supposed to be my future.
The man who had the nerve—and maybe a bit of foolishness too—to kiss me after seventeen years of nothing.
"Now it’s a real family dinner," Mom says, smiling softly. "It’s been too long since we’ve seen you, Ty. Thank you for the flowers."
I can almost hear Adri’s teeth grinding. I push my food around my plate and refuse to meet anyone’s eyes.
Mom obviously can’t read the room. "You’ve been busy with your music," she says to Tyler like it’s no big deal he’s here. Like he’s just been out of town for a week, not gone from our lives completely.
"Yeah," he says, clearing his throat. "Keeping busy. Studio work mostly after the band went on hiatus."
Adri snorts for no reason at all, loud and rude.
Mom glares at him, then turns to Tyler. "That sounds nice. No need to live out of your suitcase anymore."
"It pays the bills." He shrugs like it’s nothing. But I know what it means to him. He’s still that kid with a guitar and big dreams. The dreams he put before everything else, before me.
"You and your friends ever think of touring again?" Mom continues her interrogation.
"Not sure. They’re all busy with solo projects…and kids."
"Time for you to settle down too," Mom comments quietly, picking up a slice of radish from her plate.
Adri clears his throat loudly and takes a sip of water, then puts it down with a slam.
I look at my brother and raise an eyebrow.
"Have you been to Naomi’s restaurant yet?" Mom asks, ignoring her son’s antics.
"Yes. Great place. She’s done well."
"Of course she has," Adri chokes out, his knife and fork clanking against his plate.
"You know what would be fun?" Mom cuts in, a little too cheerful. "Why don’t we look at some of those old pictures Dad used to take? When are we going to have a chance like this again?"
"Mom—" I start, but she’s already up, her food deserted.
I know it’s how she’s coping with Dad’s death.
I know she’s feeling nostalgic, and Tyler’s presence only amplifies the emotion, but I don’t want to look at the photographs of the past I’m trying so hard to forget.
It’s bad enough that Ty is here right now with his stupid perfect face, messy hair, and countless tattoos.
It’s bad enough I haven’t been able to get that stupid kiss out of my mind for days.
It’s bad enough that the memory of that kiss has been doing strange things to my body.
"What are you up to, Strings?" Adri growls at Tyler now that Mom has left the room.
"I just stopped by. I lived next door, remember?"
"I told you to stay away from my sister." Adri’s voice drops to a dangerous whisper.
"For fuck’s sake," I blurt out, frustrated with this strange alpha energy emanating from both of them. "Will you stop this, Adri? I’m a big girl. I can handle my shit."
"Can you?" He looks at me like I owe him a kidney.
"It’s none of your business anyway."