Page 33 of The Beach Shack Summer (Laguna Beach #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Tyler paused, coffee scoop in hand.

First Stella staying. Then Meg moving three doors down. Now Luke’s truck in her driveway all night. Everything was changing. Everything.

His hands shook slightly as he measured the coffee.

He was staring at the drip, trying not to spiral, when the back door opened twenty minutes later.

“Morning.” Luke looked perfectly composed, maybe a little more relaxed than usual. “Coffee ready?”

“Your truck was there all night.” The words came out accusatory.

“I know.” Luke poured himself a mug like this was any other morning. “Thanks for making coffee. ”

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

Luke studied him over the rim of his mug. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know! Something! You can’t just—she’s my sister, Luke.”

“I’m aware.” Luke’s mouth twitched. “Have been for quite some time.”

“This changes everything.”

“Does it?” Luke leaned against the counter, infuriatingly calm. “Tyler, what’s really going on?”

“What’s going on is my best friend’s truck was at my sister’s house all night!”

“And?”

“And... and...” Tyler gripped his mug. “Everything’s different. Stella’s here, Meg’s in Mom’s house, you and Meg are... whatever you are. Nothing’s the same anymore.”

“Ah.” Luke nodded. “There it is.”

“There what is?”

“Tyler Walsh, overwhelmed by change. Classic.”

“I’m not overwhelmed.”

“You’re practically vibrating.”

“I am not—” Tyler stopped. He was, in fact, vibrating slightly. “Shut up.”

Luke laughed, that easy laugh that had gotten Tyler through every crisis. “It’s all good changes, Ty.”

“I know that. Logically. But?—”

“But you liked knowing where everyone was. Meg in San Francisco, me pining from a safe distance, Stella in Australia. Controlled. Separate. ”

“You weren’t pining,” Tyler said automatically.

“I was definitely pining. Twenty years of world-class pining.” Luke seemed remarkably cheerful about it. “But that’s done now.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Luke’s whole face softened. “I told her I love her. She said it back. Simple.”

“Nothing’s simple when it comes to family.”

“Sure it is. You just make it complicated.” Luke refilled his mug. “Stella chose to stay. That’s good. Meg moved home. Also good. Your sister and I finally got our acts together after two decades. Definitely good.”

“But what if?—”

“Tyler.” Luke’s voice gentled. “What are you actually worried about?”

Tyler slumped against the counter. “What if you hurt each other? What if it doesn’t work? What if I lose my best friend AND my sister? What if?—”

“What if we’re happy?”

That stopped Tyler short.

“What if,” Luke continued, “after twenty years of almosts and maybes, we actually get it right? What if your sister stays in Laguna because she wants to, not because she has to? What if I get to love her the way I’ve wanted to since we were younger?”

“That’s a lot of what-ifs.”

“Good ones though.” Luke was doing that steady thing, the one that had talked Tyler through every bad decision and rough patch. “Tyler, I’ve loved your sister since she tried to reorganize my surf lesson schedule when she was eighteen. This isn’t sudden. This isn’t reckless. This is... inevitable.”

“Inevitable,” Tyler repeated.

“Pretty much.”

“Why is Luke being reasonable in our kitchen?” Stella shuffled in, still in pajamas, making a beeline for the coffee.

“He spent the night at Meg’s,” Tyler said, still processing.

“Gross. TMI.” She poured coffee with the efficiency of someone who’d been mainlining caffeine since age fourteen. “Wait, why do you look like someone died?”

“I don’t?—“

“He’s having a change spiral,” Luke explained.

“Ah.” Stella nodded sagely. “Like when I said I wanted to stay and you spent three hours staring at the wall?”

“I wasn’t staring at the wall.”

“You were totally staring at the wall.”

“It’s a lot of change,” Tyler said.

“Good change though, right?” Stella’s voice went uncertain. “Me staying, Meg being close, Luke finally making a move after forever...”

“Twenty years isn’t forever,” Luke said mildly.

“It’s literally longer than I’ve been alive.”

“Fair point.”

Tyler looked between them—his daughter who’d chosen him, his best friend who’d chosen his sister. His family, expanding and shifting and becoming something new .

“I need everyone to stop changing things for like, five minutes,” he said finally.

“No can do.” Stella stole his toast. “Oh, by the way, I’m thinking about getting my nose pierced.”

“WHAT?”

“Kidding! God, you’re easy today.” She grinned. “But I am going to add some Australian menu items to the Beach Shack board. Fairy bread. Lamingtons. Real coffee.”

“Our coffee is real!”

“Sure, Tyler.” She patted his shoulder condescendingly. “Luke, congrats on finally using your words. Only took two decades.”

“Thanks, I think.”

She wandered out, typing rapidly.

Tyler and Luke stood in the morning quiet, the crisis—such as it was—deflated.

“You really okay with this?” Luke asked after a moment.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Always.”

Tyler thought about it. Really thought about it. Luke had been there through everything—Sam leaving, Stella arriving, every Walsh family drama in between. He’d waited twenty years without pushing, without demanding, just... being there.

“You love her,” Tyler said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.”

“And she loves you. ”

“Apparently.” Luke’s smile was pure wonder. “Still getting used to that part.”

“Just... don’t hurt each other, okay?”

“We won’t.”

“Because if you do, I’ll have to pick sides, and that’ll be weird, and?—“

“Tyler.” Luke gripped his shoulder. “We’re good. All of us. It’s all good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Though I probably should move my truck before Bernie starts taking photos for evidence.”

“Bernie doesn’t know about... you and Meg. The history.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “Bernie knows everything. He’s probably already adjusting his betting pools.”

As Luke headed for the door, Tyler called after him. “Hey, Luke?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m happy for you. Both of you. Just... processing.”

“I know.” Luke’s grin was vintage Luke—steady, sure, amused by Tyler’s dramatics. “Thanks for the coffee. And the mini-crisis. Felt like old times.”

“Shut up.”

“Love you too, buddy.”

After he left, Tyler stood at the window, watching Luke move his truck. His phone buzzed—Bernie, of course.

Truck movement at the Walsh house! What’s the story ?

Tyler typed back.

No story. Mind your business.

That’s not how this works and you know it.

Tyler put the phone down without responding. Let Bernie wonder. Some changes, apparently, were worth protecting.

Even if they made everything different.

Even if they were good.