Page 53 of The Beach Shack Summer
Tyler would take it.
Even if it killed him.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The DMV handbook lay on Stella’s bed, surrounded by the only clear space left in the house. She’d been studying it in her room for three days—the kitchen table had become Meg’s unofficial office, covered in color-coded contracts and sticky notes. Tyler knew she’d been studying because she kept leaving the handbook in increasingly obvious places—propped against the coffee maker between Meg’s files, balanced on his camera bag, once tucked into the sofa cushions.
“I’m ready,” she announced over breakfast, pushing her empty cereal bowl aside and clearing a small space among Meg’s papers. “Written test. Today.”
Tyler froze mid-chew. “Today?”
“I’ve memorized everything. Speed limits, right-of-way rules, parallel parking dimensions?—”
“You can’t memorize driving.”
“Watch me.” She flipped open thehandbook to a random page. “California Vehicle Code 21453(a): A driver facing a steady circular red signal shall stop at a marked limit line, but if none, before entering the crosswalk on the near side of the intersection or, if none, then before entering the intersection.”
“That’s... actually right.”
“I told you. I’m ready.”
Tyler set down his spoon, trying to ignore the way his chest tightened. Three days. It had only been three days since she’d dropped the L-plates bomb, and now she wanted to take the test. In Sydney, Fiona had probably been teaching her road rules since she could walk. Here, Tyler had spent three days alternating between reading horror stories about teen driving statistics and watching YouTube videos on “How to Teach Your Teenager to Drive Without Destroying Your Relationship.”
The videos hadn’t helped.
“Okay,” he said finally. “But we go to the DMV in Laguna Hills, not the one in?—”
“Why?”
“Less crowded.”
“You mean farther from cliffs and ocean roads.”
“That too.”
Stella grinned, and Tyler realized he’d been played once again. She’d probably known he’d pick the inland DMV. She’d probably researched all of them.
“Let me grab my keys,” Tyler said, then paused as his phone rang. “Hello? Oh, hi Natalie. Meg’s in thebathroom. On a call. Yes, in the bathroom. It’s a long story.”
He hung up and found Stella watching him with amusement. “Meg takes business calls in the bathroom now?”
“Best acoustics in the house, apparently.”
“This family is weird.”
“You’re part of this family.”
“Yeah, well.” But she was fighting a smile.
Three hours later, they sat in Tyler’s truck outside the DMV, Stella clutching a freshly printed learner’s permit with the expression of someone who’d just been handed nuclear launch codes.
“I can’t believe they just... gave it to me,” she said.
“You passed the test.”
“But still. This says I can operate a motor vehicle. With supervision,” she added quickly, catching his expression. “Calm down.”
“I’m calm.”
