Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Tyler pulled into the Laguna Beach High School parking lot and turned off the engine.
Neither of them moved.
“So,” Stella said, staring at the beige buildings through the windshield. “This is it.”
“This is it.”
“You actually went here.”
“Graduated and everything. Barely.” Tyler drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Fair warning—I wasn’t exactly a model student. If anyone remembers me, the stories won’t be flattering.”
“Define ‘not a model student.’”
“Let’s just say I got very familiar with the principal’s office.”
Stella grinned. “This is going to be fun.”
They got out of the truck and headed toward the main entrance.
The campus looked exactly like Tyler remembered—same beige stucco, same palm trees, same outdoor walkways designed for weather that never really changed.
Years since he’d graduated, and the only difference was the motivational posters in the windows.
DREAM BIG. WORK HARD. BE KIND.
“Inspirational,” Stella said drily.
“They’ve updated since my time. Ours just said HUGS NOT DRUGS.”
“Simpler era.”
“Simpler posters, anyway.”
They passed through the front office, where a student aide directed them toward the guidance wing.
Tyler led the way down halls that felt simultaneously familiar and strange—the same layout, the same smell of floor wax and teenage anxiety, but populated by kids who hadn’t been born when he was cutting class to go surfing.
“That was my locker,” he said, pointing. “Second from the end.”
“Sentimental.”
“I got it jammed so many times they threatened to charge me for a new one.” He paused at a door, looking through the small window. “And that’s where I got detention. Repeatedly.”
“For what?”
“Various crimes. Talking back. Showing up late. Once for climbing out the window during a fire drill.”
“Why would you climb out during a fire drill? You’re already supposed to leave.”
“I was trying to leave faster. The teacher didn’t appreciate my initiative.”
Stella laughed, and the sound echoed.
“Tyler? Tyler Walsh?”
He turned to find Natalie Rodriguez standing in a classroom doorway, a stack of papers in her arms. Same warm eyes, same knowing smile. She’d been at Meg’s side since kindergarten, and she looked at Tyler now with the fondness reserved for friends’ hopeless younger brothers.
“Natalie. Hey.” He managed a smile. “Meg mentioned you were teaching here.”
“English department. Twelve years and counting.” She shifted the papers to one hip, her gaze moving to Stella.
“And Stella! Two Walshes in my hallway. This is either very good or very bad.”
“We’re hoping for good,” Stella said.
“She’s thinking about staying,” Tyler added. “For senior year. We’re trying to figure out what that would require.”
“And you came here without a plan.” Natalie’s smile turned teasing. “That also tracks.”
“Everyone’s a critic.”
“You need Lindsey Matthews. Guidance counselor—handles all the complicated enrollment situations.” Natalie nodded toward the end of the hall. “She’s great. Very calm, very smart. Won’t judge you for showing up without an appointment.”
“That’s twice now someone’s implied I’m a mess.”
“You look like a dad trying to do right by his kid.” Natalie’s voice softened. “That’s not a mess. That’s just hard.” She glanced at Stella. “Good luck. And tell your Aunt Meg we need another coffee date.”
She disappeared back into her classroom and new school year prep, and Tyler led Stella toward the guidance office.
“She seems nice,” Stella said. “I met her with Aunt Meg at the grocery store a while back.”
“She’s known me since I was five. She has stories.”
“I’m going to need those stories.”
“Absolutely not.”
The guidance wing had a cheerful bulletin board—NEED SOMEONE TO TALK TO? WE’RE HERE!—and a small waiting area with chairs that looked designed to discourage lingering. Tyler approached the open office door and knocked on the frame.
The woman behind the desk looked up from her computer. Mid-thirties, dark blonde hair pulled back in a clip, reading glasses she removed as they entered. A coffee mug near her elbow read WORLD’S OKAYEST GUIDANCE COUNSELOR.
“Hi,” Tyler said. “We’re looking for Lindsey Matthews. Natalie Rodriguez sent us.”
“You found her.” She stood, gesturing to the chairs across from her desk. “Come in, sit down. What can I help you with?”
Tyler sat. Stella took the chair beside him, close enough that their elbows almost touched.
“I’m Tyler Walsh,” he said. “This is my daughter, Stella. She’s been living with me this summer —visiting from Australia. Her mother has custody there.”
Lindsey nodded, pulling a notepad toward her.
“She was supposed to go back in three weeks,” Tyler continued. “For Year 12—senior year. But she’s thinking about staying. We’re trying to understand what that would actually require.”
“I want to stay,” Stella said quietly. It was the first time she’d spoken since they sat down. “I’m not just thinking about it. I want to.”
Lindsey looked at her with calm, unhurried attention. “Okay. That’s good to know. Let’s talk through what staying would look like.”
She asked questions—practical ones, delivered gently. What was the current custody arrangement? Did Tyler have legal documentation? What was Stella’s academic standing in Australia? Had either of them spoken to her mother about extending the stay?
Tyler answered what he could. Temporary guardianship for the summer, yes. Medical decisions covered. End date matching her return flight. No transcripts—they were all in Sydney. And no, Fiona didn’t know they were even considering this.
Stella was quiet through most of it, her knee bouncing slightly under the desk.
“Here’s what I can tell you,” Lindsey said when they’d finished. “For Stella to enroll as a full-time student, we’d need a few things. Official transcripts from her Australian school. Proof of residency—that’s straightforward if she’s living with you. And documentation of parental authority.”
“Which means...” Tyler started.
“Her mother’s consent. Either a signed letter authorizing the enrollment and extended guardianship, or formal custody modification through the courts.” Lindsey set down her pen. “I know that’s probably not what you wanted to hear.”
“It all comes back to Fiona,” Stella said flatly.
“It all comes back to Fiona,” Lindsey agreed.
The words hung there. Tyler glanced at Stella, but she was staring at the motivational poster behind Lindsey’s desk. EVERY JOURNEY BEGINS WITH A SINGLE STEP.
“What if she says no?” Stella asked.
“Then it gets more complicated. There are legal options, but they take time, money, and they’re not guaranteed.” Lindsey leaned back in her chair. “Can I be honest with you both?”
“Please,” Tyler said.
“The paperwork matters. The legal stuff matters. But what matters most is what Stella wants—and whether her mother can be brought around to supporting it.” She picked up her coffee mug, turning it in her hands.
“I’ve seen a lot of custody situations in this job.
The ones that work out are the ones where the adults find a way to put the kid first. Even when it’s hard. Even when there’s history.”
Tyler thought about Fiona. About all the years of careful negotiations, scheduled visits, birthdays spent on opposite sides of the world. About Stella showing up this summer with walls so high he’d spent weeks just trying to find a door.
“The funny thing is, Mum’s the one who sent me here. Her idea. Wanted time with just David and the twins.” Stella poked at her ice cream. “I didn’t even want to come.”
“And now?”
“Now I don’t want to leave. And she’s going to hate that.”
Lindsey nodded and smiled. “Sounds complicated.”
“What if I talk to her and she still says no?” Stella asked. Her voice was smaller now.
“Then we figure out the next step. One thing at a time.” Lindsey pulled a folder from her desk drawer.
“This is our international transfer checklist. Everything we’d need if you do enroll.
Take it home, look it over. And when you’re ready to move forward — whatever that looks like—you know where to find me. ”
Tyler took the folder. It was thin—just a few pages—but it felt heavier than it should.
“Thank you,” he said. “For taking the time.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” Lindsey stood and walked them to the door. She looked at Tyler. “For what it’s worth—you showing up, doing the research, trying to understand what your daughter needs? That’s a parent’s plan. That counts for something.”
A parent’s plan. He’d been fumbling through this summer, never quite sure if he was doing any of it right.
“I’ll probably have more questions,” he said.
“I’ll be here.” She handed him a business card. “Direct line. Call anytime.”
They walked back through the halls in silence. Past the trophy cases, past the classroom where Tyler had climbed out the window, past his old locker with the jammed door.
“So,” Stella said as they pushed through the main entrance into the sunshine. “Things did not go well here?”
“Not exactly.”
“But you graduated.”
“Out of pure spite.” Tyler squinted at the parking lot. “Walked across that stage just to prove everybody wrong.”
“And now you’re back here. Trying to enroll your daughter.”
“Life’s weird that way.”
They reached the truck. Tyler unlocked it but didn’t get in. Stella stood on the passenger side, the folder in her hands now, flipping through the pages.
“It really does all come back to Mum,” she said quietly.
“Yeah.”
“She’s not going to make this easy.”
“Probably not.”
Stella closed the folder. Looked at him across the roof of the truck.
“I still want to stay,” she said. “Even knowing that.”
“Good.” Tyler held her gaze. “Then we’ll figure it out.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I mean it.”
She didn’t look convinced. But she got in the truck, and that was enough for now.
Tyler started the engine, then paused.
“Rocky’s?” he asked.
Stella almost smiled. “Yeah. I think this qualifies.”
Rocky’s was quiet at two in the afternoon — just a couple of tourists studying the menu board and a mom with a toddler making a mess with sprinkles.
Tyler ordered butter pecan in a cone. Stella got mint chocolate chip in a cup, because cones were still structurally unsound food delivery systems, even in moments of emotional crisis.
They took their usual bench outside, the one with the view of the ocean.
For a while, they just ate. The folder from Lindsey sat between them, pages ruffling slightly in the breeze.
“You really got detention for climbing out a window?” Stella asked.
“I really did.”
“During a fire drill.”
“I was being efficient.”
“You were being an idiot.”
“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”
She laughed, and Tyler felt a sense of relief. They were okay. Whatever came next — Fiona, the paperwork, the fight he could feel coming — they were okay right now.
“Some uncomfortable realizations need ice cream,” Stella said, poking at her cup with the tiny plastic spoon.
“Is that a Stella original?”
“It’s a universal truth.” She took a bite. “This definitely qualifies as an uncomfortable realization.”
“Which part?”
“All of it. That I want something this much. That I might not get it. That it all depends on someone who—” She stopped. Poked at her ice cream again. “Someone who might say no just because she can.”
Tyler wanted to tell her it would be fine. That Fiona would come around. That wanting something this much had to count for something.
But he didn’t know if any of that was true. So, he just sat beside her, eating his butter pecan, watching the waves.
“We should head back,” Stella said eventually. “Bea’s probably planned my entire course schedule by now.”
“Probably your wedding too.”
“Don’t give her ideas.”
They threw away their cups and napkins and walked back to the truck. The folder went on the dashboard, a reminder of everything still undecided.
“Dad?” Stella said as Tyler started the engine.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks. For coming with me. For—” She gestured vaguely at the school, the ice cream shop, the whole afternoon. “All of it.”
“That’s what dads do.”
“Is it?”
“I’m figuring it out as I go.” He pulled out of the parking lot. “But yeah. I think so.”
She didn’t say anything else. But she didn’t put her headphones in, either. Just sat beside him, watching Laguna Beach scroll past the window, the folder between them like a promise neither of them had figured out how to keep yet.
One thing at a time.
Starting with telling Fiona.