Page 45 of The Beach Shack Summer
When the credits rolled, Stella stretched. “That was terrible.”
“The worst,” Tyler agreed.
“We should watch the sequel tomorrow.”
A pause. Tyler and Meg exchanged glances.
“Sure,” Tyler said. “If you want.”
“Whatever. I mean, if we’re not busy with the whole Beach Shack thing.”
“Right. The Beach Shack thing.”
Stella stood, grabbing her phone. “I’m going to bed. Thanks for dinner, Meg. It was... good.”
“High praise,” Meg said.
“Don’t get used to it.” But Stella paused at the hallway. “So we’re going tomorrow? To the Shack again?”
“If you’re ready,” Tyler said carefully.
“I guess. Can’t hide forever, right?” She disappeared down the hall before anyone could respond.
“That went well,” Luke said after her door closed.
“Did it?” Tyler seemed genuinely unsure.
“She ate dinner with us. Suggested a movie. Wants to go to the Shack tomorrow.” Meg counted on her fingers. “I’d say that’s progress.”
“She still hasn’t unpacked.”
“Tyler, it’s been two days.”
“I know. I just...” He rubbed his face. “What if she never does?”
“Then she doesn’t,” Luke said simply. “You can’t force her to feel safe here. Just keep showing up.”
“The Walsh family motto,” Meg added. “We show up.”
“Even when we don’t know what we’re doing?”
“Especially then.”
Luke stood, stretching. “I should go. Early morning tomorrow.”
“Big plans?” Tyler asked.
“Kelp survey. Want to come? Could use an extra diver.”
“Can’t. Taking my daughter to work.” Tyler said it like he was testing the words.
“Your daughter,” Luke repeated. “Has a nice ring to it.”
After Luke left—with another cheek kiss that made Tyler mutter about rom-coms—the siblings sat in comfortable silence.
“Thanks,” Meg said eventually. “For not freaking out about Luke.”
“I save my freaking out for private moments. You’re the one who’s been freaking out privately since 1989.”
