Page 89 of The Beach Shack Summer
“Bonding over mutual terror?”
“I’ve seen relationships built on less.”
Tyler managed a smile. “Three doors?”
“Three doors. Close enough to help, far enough to let you breathe.”
“Breathing’s overrated.”
“That’s what you think now. Wait till you can use your dining table again.”
“Good point.” He looked around the chaos. “Luke will help you move?”
“Probably. If I ask nicely.”
“Or just ask. The man’s been gone for you since high school.”
“That’s not—“ Meg stopped at Tyler’s knowing look. “Okay, maybe. But we’re not talking about Luke right now.”
“Fair enough. We’re talking about you abandoning us to our fate.”
“Dramatic much?”
“I’m a photographer. We’re artistic. Drama comes with the territory.”
“So does adaptability,” Meg pointed out. “And you’re nothing if not adaptable.”
“We’ll see about that.”
They said goodnight, but Meg lay awake for hours, staring at the ceiling in Tyler’s guest room for what would be one of the last times. Down the hall, she could hear Tyler moving around, probably editing photos in the bathroom. Stella’s music played softly, a constant backdrop to their careful coexistence.
This weekend, the safety net would be removed.
Three doors had never seemed so far.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Tyler lay awake at 4:47 AM, staring at the ceiling he could barely see in the dark. In a few hours, Meg would walk three doors down and start her new life in their childhood home. Three doors that might as well be three miles for what it meant.
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.”
