Page 26 of The Beach Shack Summer (Laguna Beach #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

He rolled out of bed carefully, muscle memory from years of pre-dawn photo shoots. A quick note on the kitchen counter— Gone to check waves. Back before breakfast. -T —because he’d learned that much at least.

The truck started louder than necessary in the pre-dawn quiet. He winced, glancing back at the house, but no lights came on. Good. Stella needed sleep more than she needed to wonder where he’d gone.

Luke’s truck was already at their usual spot, parked facing the ocean. Of course it was. Eight years of dawn patrol had created its own language between them.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Luke asked as Tyler approached, two coffees already waiting on the hood .

“You saw my text at one in the morning and figured I’d show up here?”

“I know you.” Luke handed him a cup. “Also, I couldn’t sleep either. Meg called last night. Talking through her lists for the move.”

“Lists. Of course she has lists.”

They stood in comfortable silence, watching the horizon lighten from black to deep purple. The waves were small but clean, perfect for a mellow session if they’d brought boards.

“She’s moving back into our childhood home,” Tyler said finally. “Everything Sam couldn’t erase, all those memories just... sitting there. Waiting.”

“Heavy.”

“My surf trophy’s still on the mantel. The one from when I was eight, that tiny thing I was so proud of.” Tyler took a long sip of coffee. “Stella found photos of us covered in flour from when we tried to make Mom a birthday cake. Anna added salt instead of sugar.”

“Sounds like Anna.”

“It’s all there. Like we’re still those kids, frozen in time while Sam ran off to find herself.” His laugh was bitter. “And now Meg’s moving back in, and I’m terrified I’m going to screw this up the same way Sam did.”

Luke turned to look at him. “You’re not Sam.”

“Aren’t I? Gone for months at a time, showing up with presents and promises, missing everything important?—“

“Stop.” Luke’s voice was firm. “I was here, remember? When you first found out about Stella. You dropped everything, flew to Australia immediately. You’ve restructured your entire life around her.”

“Because I had to.”

“No, because you wanted to. Sam had choices too. She chose differently.”

Tyler stared at the lightening sky. “What if Stella realizes she doesn’t need me? Without Meg there as buffer, what if we just... can’t connect?”

“You mean what if you have to actually parent without a safety net?”

“When you put it like that, it sounds pathetic.”

“It sounds normal.” Luke finished his coffee. “When I started teaching kids to surf, I always wanted another instructor nearby. Someone to catch what I missed, step in if I froze. Know what happened when I finally had to teach solo?”

“What?”

“I figured it out. Made mistakes, sure. Had a kid cry because I explained duck diving wrong. Another one quit because I pushed too hard.” He shrugged. “But most of them learned. And I got better.”

“Stella’s not a surf student I can hand back at the end of the hour.”

“No, she’s your daughter who chose to spend the summer with you. Who’s learning photography, working at the Shack, slowly unpacking that bag she kept by the door.” Luke gave him a meaningful look. “Did you notice? Yesterday? She hung up a sweater in the closet.”

“She did? ”

“Meg mentioned it. Small things, but they matter.”

The horizon was orange now, promising a clear day. Tyler thought about Stella’s careful organization of the Polaroids on the fridge, the way she’d started leaving her phone charger plugged in by the couch.

“I keep waiting for her to realize I’m just fumbling through this,” Tyler admitted.

“Every parent fumbles. The good ones keep showing up anyway.” Luke pulled out his phone, checking the time. “Speaking of which, you should probably head back soon. Make actual breakfast before she wakes up.”

“I was thinking frozen waffles.”

“Tyler.”

“I can make eggs. I’m not completely hopeless.”

“Debatable, but we’ll go with it.” Luke started walking back to the trucks. “Hey, can I ask you something? About the move?”

“Yeah?”

“Meg seems... I don’t know. Guilty? About leaving you guys. Even though it’s clearly the right thing.”

Tyler nodded. “She’s always been the fixer. Even as kids, she’d try to hold everything together. Make sure Anna and I were okay when Mom and Dad fought.”

“And now she feels like she’s abandoning you.”

“I told her we’d be fine, but...” Tyler shrugged. “Maybe she needs to see it, not just hear it.”

“Maybe you all do.” Luke opened his truck door. “You know what might help? That dinner thing Stella suggested. Regular meals together even though you’re living apart.”

“Like shared custody of family time.”

“Exactly. Shows Meg you won’t fall apart, gives Stella stability, keeps the connection without the cramped quarters.”

Tyler considered this. “Tuesday dinners at Meg’s, Thursday at mine?”

“Add Sunday breakfast at the Shack.”

“Bernie will run a betting pool on whether we can maintain it.”

“Bernie runs betting pools on everything. Might as well give him good material.”

They stood by their trucks as the sun broke the horizon, painting everything gold.

“Thanks,” Tyler said. “For the coffee. And for not letting me spiral. Again.”

“That’s what we do.” Luke’s grin was familiar, comforting. “Besides, in a few weeks I’ll probably be the one panicking about something with Meg, and you’ll have to return the favor.”

“What kind of something?”

Luke’s expression went carefully neutral. “Just... something. Don’t worry about it.”

“Luke—”

“Go make breakfast for your daughter, Tyler. Real food. With nutrients.”

“Eggs have nutrients.”

“Then make eggs. And maybe some toast that isn’t burned. ”

Tyler drove home feeling lighter. Not fixed—nothing about this situation was fixed—but manageable. He had a daughter learning to trust him, a sister finding her own space, a best friend who showed up with coffee and truth at dawn.

His phone buzzed at a red light. Stella.

where r u? meg’s already texting about moving boxes

He typed back.

On my way. Want eggs or pancakes?

Three dots appeared immediately.

pancakes. but not burned ones

I don’t burn pancakes.

tyler. yes you do

He laughed despite himself. She was calling him Tyler now, not “my father” with that formal distance. Small things, like Luke said. But they mattered.

I’ll try not to burn them.

try hard. meg says she’s stealing your good pan anyway

Of course she was. By tonight, Meg would have relocated half his kitchen to their childhood home, Stella would be figuring out dinner without their buffer, and life would be completely different.

But maybe different didn’t mean worse. Maybe it just meant everyone getting the space to figure out who they were becoming.

Even if it involved unburned pancakes and stolen cookware.

Tyler pulled into his driveway as the morning light caught the windows of the house three doors down. Tonight, those windows would glow with Meg’s presence, bringing life back to rooms that had been dark too long.