Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
TYLER
Tyler got Emma through bedtime with their usual routine, including tooth-brushing negotiation, the dramatic plea for “one more chapter” of the book she was reading, and the inevitable detour into llama facts because, apparently, llamas were now a required part of every evening routine.
By the time Emma was finally tucked under her comforter with her stuffed animals lined up, Tyler had kissed her forehead twice and gotten her water once, before she finally started drifting off to sleep.
He should have felt relief, or a sense of calmness that the day was winding down.
Instead, all he felt was restless.
Downstairs, the house was quiet in that way that usually soothed him. The dishwasher hummed. The porch light cast a warm pool onto the front steps. The normalcy of it all should have settled his nerves.
But the truth was, he still had Robyn in his system.
Today had been the perfect day, truly. Breakfast together, work in the afternoon, the library, her grandparents’ place, dinner, and ice cream. He’d loved all of it.
But he knew there was a storm just rolling underneath the surface. That even though they hadn’t talked about it much, Robyn’s world had been rocked less than twenty-four hours ago. That wasn’t something you got over in a day.
Tyler sat at his desk and opened his laptop, intending to do the responsible thing and knock out a few pages of the manuscript waiting for him.
Instead, his fingers moved on their own.
AfterHoursAuthor.
The site loaded quickly, the familiar layout snapping into place like a habit he’d never fully questioned until now. He stared at the page for a beat, then checked the timestamp on the most recent update.
Nothing new.
He shouldn’t be surprised. Hell, it’d been less than twenty-four hours since her name had been splashed across the internet.
But it was a Thursday, and she always posted something on Thursdays. It was routine.
Tonight, there was only silence.
Tyler leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his mouth, and tried to ignore the sharp flicker of anger that still lived under his ribs when he thought about her ex. The smugness of that name in her story views. The cruelty of posting her identity like it was a joke.
He’d never met the guy, but Tyler already hated him, and Tyler didn’t hate anyone. Even Emma’s mom. He pitied her more than anything.
Tyler clicked over to the comments and saw the usual flood of readers—heart emojis, “more please,” people begging for updates, people trying to be supportive in the only way the internet knew how.
A few even mentioned the reveal, the tone ranging from outrage to giddy excitement, as if Robyn’s real life had simply become part of the plot.
Tyler’s jaw tightened.
Robyn wasn’t a character.
She was a woman sitting alone in a loft above a bookstore, probably staring at her laptop and wondering if the thing she loved most had just been taken from her.
Tyler closed the tab before the protective anger could turn into something that made him reckless.
He opened his messages instead.
His thumb hovered over Robyn’s name, and then he started typing.
Hey. Just… I’m thinking about you. A lot. I liked having you with me today. I like you in my space. I like you in my life.
He paused, reading it over, making sure it didn’t sound like a speech. Making sure it sounded like him.
Then he added one more line, because it was the most honest part.
I wish you were in my bed right now. Not for anything other than just being here.
He hesitated again, heart thumping like a teenager, then hit send before he could overthink it.
The message whooshed away.
Tyler stared at the screen for a moment longer, then let his head tip back against the chair, eyes closing.
He opened the manuscript he was supposed to work on, but the words swam. His brain kept drifting to tomorrow: the wood-fired stove clue, the book club chat lighting up. Robyn trying to solve everything with a plan, and him trying to remind her that it was okay if she didn’t.
Maybe that was what he did now. Maybe he couldn’t protect her from the internet or Yale or her parents. But he could show up and be there for her.
Ten minutes later, after Tyler had reread the same sentence on the manuscript three times, and none of the words had sunk in, his phone finally buzzed.
Tyler’s chest tightened as he picked it up.
I wish I was there too. Tonight has just… not been good.
A pause, then another bubble appeared.
I tried to write. And nothing happened. Like my brain just… shut off. It’s terrifying. I hate it. Then I started to think about everything and… I don’t know. It sucks.
Tyler exhaled slowly, relief and worry tangling together until he couldn’t tell them apart.
He typed back before he could overthink it.
Then come here.
I’ll put on coffee in the morning and we’ll pretend the world can wait until after breakfast.
Robyn’s reply came quickly.
Okay. I’ll be there in ten.
Tyler was on his feet before he even set the phone down.
He moved through the house quietly, turning off the kitchen light, checking the front lock, making sure the hallway nightlight was on low. He walked past Emma’s room and paused, listening. Steady, soft breathing. Her stuffed animals were lined up along the pillow like they were guarding her dreams.
He went to his bedroom and pulled back the comforter, smoothing the sheets the way his mother used to when she was trying to make a house feel safe. He set a glass of water on the nightstand. Then he stood there like an idiot for a second, staring at the empty side of the bed.
It had been a long time since he’d wanted someone in his space like this.
Not for sex. Just for the simple comfort of each other.
He waited in the living room for Robyn’s headlights to light up the front window and then met her at the back door.
“Hi,” she whispered. Her hair was in a messy bun, and she was wearing an oversized sweatshirt and pajama pants.
“Hi,” Tyler whispered back, as if the house itself might shush them.
Robyn kicked off her shoes and set her coat over the back of the chair. She looked around the quiet kitchen, the soft glow from the light above the sink, the faint hum of the dishwasher, the homeyness of it all.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “If this is weird.”
“It’s not,” Tyler said immediately. “It’s… good.”
Her throat bobbed. She nodded once, like she didn’t trust herself to speak.
Tyler led her down the hallway, careful with every step. In his room, he only turned on the bedside lamp, the light warm and low. Robyn stood there, arms folded lightly over herself, as if she didn’t know what to do.
Tyler shut his bedroom door softly behind them and moved to his side of the bed. “Here,” he murmured, voice low in the quiet house. “Come here.”
Robyn climbed onto the mattress and slid under the covers, taking off her glasses and setting them on the nightstand. Tyler switched off the lamp, leaving only a thin strip of light spilling in from the bathroom, just enough to turn the room into shadows and softness.
He eased in behind her, close but not crowding, and wrapped his arm around her waist like he was born to hold her. Robyn let out a shaky breath that turned into something like relief.
Tyler pressed his mouth to her hair, a small kiss that said what words couldn’t.
“I’m happy you came,” he whispered.
“Me too,” Robyn said, and then she shifted, turning carefully in his arms until she was facing him. In the dim light he could just make out her eyes. They were still bright around the edges, still tender, but calmer now somehow.
She lifted a hand and rested it against his cheek, her thumb brushing lightly over his skin. “I don’t think I’ve said thank you yet,” she murmured.
“For what?”
“For… showing up.” Her voice wavered, then steadied. “For not making me feel like I have to earn you. For being in my life at all.”
Tyler caught her wrist gently, kissed her knuckles once, then let his hand slide back to her waist.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he said.
“I know.” Robyn’s mouth tipped into the smallest smile, the kind that looked like it cost her a little courage. “But I want to.”
And then she leaned in and kissed him.
It was soft and unhurried, nothing like the claiming, intense passion of last night.
Just a slow press of her mouth to his, a quiet kind of intimacy that felt like coming home.
Tyler kissed her back just as gently, his hand settling at her hip, holding her there as if he could keep the world from getting in again.
When they finally broke apart in the quiet, her breathing started to slow. The tension in her shoulders eased, inch by inch. Tyler felt her finally settle, as if her body recognized something her mind was still catching up to.
He lay back, his head propped up on the pillows, and Robyn curved into him, her head resting on his chest.
“Good night, Tyler,” she said, eyes growing heavy.
“Night, Robyn,” he replied, his thumb slowly rubbing her back in time with her breaths.
Within minutes, Robyn was asleep.
Tyler stayed awake a little longer, staring into the dark, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing.
The world could do whatever it wanted tomorrow.
Tonight, she was here.
And for now, he wasn’t letting go.