Page 6 of The Beach Shack Summer (Laguna Beach #2)

CHAPTER SIX

M eg couldn’t sleep.

She’d tried—had even made herself chamomile tea and deliberately not organized anything—but her mind kept circling the impossibility of their current situation.

Tyler folded like origami on the couch. A teenage girl who shared their eyes sleeping in the spare room.

The careful life Meg had constructed in Tyler’s space suddenly upended by a secret sixteen years in the making.

Five-thirty AM. Early even for her.

She padded to the kitchen, moving quietly past Tyler’s sleeping form. He’d managed to find a diagonal position that kept most of his body on the loveseat, though one foot dangled off the edge. His face, slack in sleep, looked younger. Vulnerable.

Coffee. Coffee would help.

As the machine gurgled to life, her phone lit up with an incoming video call. Anna. Of course—she’d always been an early riser, probably already back from her morning run.

Meg grabbed the phone and her coffee, slipping out onto the small back deck to avoid waking anyone.

“Finally!” Anna’s face filled the screen, a glass of wine visible on her kitchen table, the Italian evening light soft behind her. “I’ve been dying since last night. Tell me everything.”

“Shh,” Meg warned, though she couldn’t help smiling at her sister’s eagerness. “Everyone’s still asleep.”

“Everyone being Tyler and his secret daughter?” Anna’s eyes were huge. “Meg, what the heck? How does Tyler have a teenage daughter we knew nothing about?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with details.”

“What’s her name? What’s she like? Does she look like him?”

“Stella. Yes, exactly like him. And she’s...” Meg searched for words. “Angry. Defensive. Told Tyler he’s not the boss of her through a closed door last night.”

“I love her already.” Anna grinned. “But seriously, Meg. Sixteen years? How does that even happen?”

“That’s what I’d like to know.” Meg glanced through the sliding door. Tyler hadn’t moved. “He’s been going to Australia twice a year, sometimes more. This last time he was gone over a month.”

“We all thought it was just for work.” Anna’s expression shifted. “God, can you imagine? All those times we teased him about committing to anything besides his camera...”

“He had a daughter the whole time.”

“Why didn’t he tell us?”

“That’s the million-dollar question.” Meg took a sip of coffee, needing the warmth. “He looks terrified, Anna. I’ve never seen Tyler actually scared before.”

“Scared of a teenager?”

“Scared of screwing up. Scared of us, maybe. Margo—” Meg stopped. “Margo found out yesterday. Had an emergency Circle meeting last night.”

“Oh no. How is she?”

“Controlled. You know Margo. But she has to be hurt. All those years...”

Anna was quiet for a moment. “We should ask him.”

“What?”

“We should ask Tyler. Right now. While Secret Teenager is asleep and can’t hear.”

“Anna, he’s exhausted?—”

“He’s had sixteen years to be exhausted. We deserve answers.” Anna’s jaw set in that stubborn way Meg recognized. “Go wake him up.”

“I’m not waking?—”

“Meg. Our brother has been hiding an entire human being from us. Wake him up.”

She had a point. Meg stood, decision made. “Fine. But if he throws something?—”

“He won’t. He’s too tired to have good aim.”

Meg slipped back inside, moving quietly through the living room. She set her coffee down and gently shook Tyler’s shoulder.

“Tyler. Wake up.”

He startled, nearly rolling off the couch. “What? Is Stella?—”

“Stella’s fine. Sleeping. But Anna wants to talk to you.”

“Anna?” He blinked, confused. “What time is it?”

“Early. Come on.” She held up her phone, Anna’s face expectant on the screen.

Tyler groaned but sat up, his hair sticking up in twelve directions. “This couldn’t wait?”

“Sixteen years was enough waiting,” Anna said from the phone.

Meg propped the phone on the coffee table, angling it so they could both be seen. Tyler rubbed his face, trying to wake up fully.

“Hi, Anna,” he said weakly.

“Don’t ‘hi Anna’ me.” Her voice was firm but not unkind. “Spill.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“The beginning,” Meg suggested, settling beside him on the floor. “Australia. Twenty-three years old.”

Tyler was quiet for so long Meg thought he might refuse. Then, quietly: “Her name was Fiona. Is Fiona. She was... God, she was everything. Photographer, like me. Taught workshops at the program I was attending. Older, established, brilliant. I was completely gone for her.”

“And?” Anna prompted when he stopped .

“And it was supposed to be casual. Summer fling. I was young and stupid and she was very clear about not wanting anything serious.” Tyler’s hands twisted together. “When the program ended, I came home. She stayed. End of story, I thought.”

“Except it wasn’t,” Meg said.

“Two and a half years later, she called. Out of nowhere. Said she had something to tell me but I had to promise...” He stopped, swallowed. “She had conditions.”

“What kind of conditions?” Anna’s voice sharpened.

“Stella was two. Two years old and I’d never known.

Fiona said she hadn’t planned to tell me at all, but Stella had started asking about her dad.

Getting old enough to notice she didn’t have one.

” Tyler’s voice cracked slightly. “She gave me a choice. I could know Stella, see her twice a year, be in her life. But...”

“But?” Meg prompted gently.

“But I couldn’t tell anyone. Not you, not Margo, no one. She said...” Tyler took a shaky breath. “She said if I involved my family, if I tried for more than she was offering, she’d disappear. Move somewhere I’d never find them. And I’d lose Stella forever.”

“She threatened you?” Anna’s outrage was clear even through the phone.

“She was protecting herself. And Stella. She didn’t want custody battles or interference or...” Tyler shrugged helplessly. “She didn’t want to deal with a whole family. Just me. Controlled visits. Contained.”

“So you agreed,” Meg said .

“What choice did I have? Say no and never know my daughter? Tell you all and risk Fiona running?” Tyler’s laugh was bitter. “I was twenty-five and terrified and suddenly a father to a toddler I’d never met. So yes, I agreed.”

“Fourteen years,” Anna said quietly. “You kept this secret for fourteen years.”

“You don’t understand what it was like.” Tyler’s voice hardened slightly. “Seeing her twice a year. Watching her grow up in snapshots. Trying to build a relationship in two-week increments while pretending to everyone here that I was just taking photography jobs.”

“We would have understood,” Meg said.

“Would you? Really?” Tyler turned to her. “You, who hadn’t been home in years? Anna, who was drowning in your own divorce and custody battles? What exactly would you have understood?”

The words stung because they held truth.

“That’s not fair,” Anna said.

“Isn’t it?” Tyler’s exhaustion made him blunt. “When would we have had this conversation, Anna? During school pickup when you were juggling Bea and the divorce lawyers? Meg, between your seventy-hour work weeks?”

“Tyler—” Meg started.

“I’m not blaming you. Either of you. We all had our stuff. But don’t sit there and tell me you would have been available for this when you weren’t available for anything else. ”

Silence fell, uncomfortable and heavy with truth. They’d all chosen distance in their own ways.

“You’re right,” Meg said finally. “We weren’t here. But we’re here now.”

Tyler’s anger deflated as quickly as it had risen. “Yeah. Now. When it’s all falling apart.”

“Tell us about her,” Anna said softly. “Not the situation. Her.”

Tyler’s face changed, something softening. “She was three when I taught her to swim. Refused to use floaties, insisted she could do it herself. Sank like a stone five times before she figured it out.”

“Stubborn,” Meg noted.

“Pure Walsh.” A small smile played at Tyler’s lips. “When she was five, I took her surfing. These tiny waves, barely ripples. She stood up for maybe two seconds and acted like she’d conquered Pipeline.”

“What else?” Anna prompted.

“There was this ice cream place near Bondi. She’d always get mint chocolate chip, but in a cup, not a cone, because cones were ‘structurally unsound.’” Tyler’s voice caught. “Seven years old and talking about structural integrity.”

“She sounds amazing,” Meg said.

“She was. Is. But...” Tyler’s smile faded. “Something changed when she hit thirteen. Maybe it was normal teenage stuff, maybe it was me only being there twice a year, but she started pulling away. Last few visits were rough. She barely talked to me.”

“And now?” Anna asked .

“Now Fiona remarried. New husband, new life, new stepkids. Stella didn’t adjust well.

Started acting out, asking harder questions about me, about why she couldn’t know my family.

” Tyler scrubbed at his face. “Fiona called about six weeks ago. I flew out immediately. We spent a month trying to figure out what to do.”

“A month?” Meg couldn’t hide her surprise. “We thought you were working.”

“I was. Working on convincing Fiona to let me try. Working on convincing Stella to give me a chance.” Tyler’s laugh was hollow. “Not sure I succeeded on either front.”

“But she’s here,” Anna pointed out.

“Summer trial. That’s what we agreed. See if Stella and I can...” He gestured helplessly. “I don’t even know. Bond? Connect? Stop being strangers who share DNA?”

“And if it doesn’t work?” Anna asked.

“Then she goes back to Sydney and we continue the twice-a-year thing until Stella’s eighteen and can decide for herself.”

“That’s awful,” Meg said.

“That’s reality.” Tyler’s voice was flat. “I’m a stranger to her, Meg. She doesn’t want to be here. Doesn’t want to know us. She’s sixteen and angry and her mother shipped her off because the new family matters more than—“ He stopped, jaw clenching.

“You matter to her,” Meg said firmly.

“Do I? Because from where I’m sitting, I’m just the guy who used to be fun when she was little. Who taught her to surf and bought her ice cream and then disappeared for six months at a time.”

“Tyler—”