Tyler flinched. Just slightly, but she saw it.
“That’s not—” she started.
“No, it’s fair.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s probably exactly what she’ll think.”
“I didn’t mean?—”
“Stella. It’s fine.” He managed a smile. “I know I wasn’t around. I know I’ve got a lot of ground to make up. And if you staying here means Fiona hates meforever, then—” He shrugged. “I can live with that. I’ve earned it.”
“She doesn’t hate you.”
“She doesn’t like me much.”
That was probably true. Stella had never asked her mother directly about Tyler—it had always seemed like picking at a wound. But the few times his name came up, Fiona’s face changed. Not angry. Just... closed.
“I don’t think she’s going to let me stay,” Stella said quietly. “Even if I ask. Even if I tell her I want it. She’s going to say no, and then what? I just... go back? Pretend I never wanted anything different?”
Tyler was quiet for a long moment. She could see him thinking, turning something over.
“What if we figured out the practical stuff first?” he said finally. “School enrollment, what paperwork we’d need, visa requirements — all of that. So when you do talk to her, you’re not asking permission. You’re presenting a plan.”
“A plan.”
“A real one. With details. So she can see it’s not just... a whim. That you’ve thought it through.”
Stella considered this. It was such a Tyler approach — research, preparation, having answers ready. Avoiding the emotional confrontation in favor of logistics.
But maybe that wasn’t wrong. Maybe that was actually smart.
“You’d help me figure all that out?”
“Of course.” He stood, offered her a hand up. “I’ll look into the school stuff. Find out what we’d actually need. And then when you’re ready to talk to her?—”
“We’ll have a plan.”
“Exactly.”
She let him pull her to her feet, slinging her camera bag over her shoulder. The morning was warming up, the marine layer retreating, the beach starting to fill with early joggers and dog walkers.
For a moment, she let herself imagine it. Senior year here. Photography with Bea. Shifts at the Shack. More mornings like this one.
Then her phone buzzed again.
“One thing at a time,” Tyler said, noticing her expression. “School stuff first. Fiona later.”
It was good advice. Practical. The kind of thing that sounded like progress but was really just... postponing.
But she’d take it. For now.
“We should head back,” she said. “Joey’s probably stress organizing the entire prep station by now.”
“Still nervous about school?”
“Terrified. You’d think he was shipping off to another continent instead of driving twenty minutes up the coast.” Tyler smiled as they started toward the parking lot. “Yesterday he asked Margo if she wanted him to train his replacement.”
“His replacement?”
“For morning shifts. Which he’s not actually givingup.” Tyler shook his head. “But he’s convinced we’ll all fall apart without his ‘systems.’”
