Chapter 38
THIRTY-EIGHT
TYLER
Tyler liked his Monday evenings quiet. They had a certain predictable rhythm about them.
He’d make dinner while Emma worked on homework.
After that, they’d video call his parents or maybe one of his brothers.
Eventually, the evening would wind down with Emma getting cleaned up, then pajamas, and off to bed, where, Tyler was sad to say, his daughter often read chapter books to herself versus asking her dad to come in and read to her.
It was funny how quickly that had happened.
But tonight was not quiet.
Tonight, they were downtown in Maple Falls, the air sharp with cold and woodsmoke, the streetlamps already glowing even though it wasn’t fully dark yet.
Halloween was four days away, and the town was ready with plenty of pumpkins, corn stalks, and plastic skeletons dotting Oak Way.
Kids ran past in costumes, streaming in and out of the community haunted house set up in the park.
It wasn’t haunted so much as comical. The pop-up tent was divided into small rooms with black plastic tarps, volunteers in witch hats and vampire capes stirring cauldrons of dry ice, handing out candy to anyone brave enough to go through.
Emma had been through four times already.
Normally, Tyler would have drawn the line at two. Tonight, his mind was elsewhere. He checked his phone for the umpteenth time.
6:12 p.m.
Robyn’s Zoom call had started at five.
He told himself to stop being an idiot. Yale was not personally stealing her away like some academic villain in a cape. She wasn’t being deported to Connecticut against her will.
His stomach had been tight all afternoon anyway.
“Come on, bug, let’s head home,” he said, steering Emma away from the friends she’d accumulated over the last hour.
They were walking back toward the car, up along Oak Way, when the café door swung open ahead of them. A gust of warmth spilled out into the cold. It smelled of coffee, cinnamon, and something buttery that made Tyler’s mouth water despite the fact that he hadn’t been hungry all evening.
Robyn stepped outside with a to-go bag in one hand and her laptop bag slung over the other shoulder. Her cheeks were flushed from heat and excitement, hair twisted into a messy knot.
She spotted him and smiled, her whole expression brimming with joy.
“Tyler, I was just going to call you. I wanted to pick up dinner real quick first. I haven’t eaten all day. I was too nervous,” she said, breathless, stopping in front of him. “I have news.”
Emma’s head popped up immediately. “Is it Halloween news?”
Robyn laughed. “Not exactly.”
Tyler tried to keep his face neutral. Tried to keep his chest from tightening. “Good news or bad news?”
“Good.” Robyn’s eyes shone. “Like… really good.”
A rush of relief went through Tyler so strong it made him dizzy.
“They’re not firing me,” she blurted.
Tyler let out a laugh he hadn’t planned on. “Okay. Great. Good. That’s—”
“And,” Robyn added quickly—because she always held her breath until she said the part that scared her—“they actually want me. Like… they want more of me.”
Tyler blinked. “More of you?”
Robyn nodded, already digging into her bag. She pulled out a folded piece of paper. There were bullet points on Yale letterhead.
“My department chair—Dr. Haskins—he said they’re launching a new program.
” Her words came fast, hands moving the same.
“A contemporary romance literature class paired with a creative writing seminar. It’ll be two parts: analysis and craft.
They want it modern, and they want me to head it up. Not just teach it. Build it.”
Tyler watched her as she talked.
This wasn’t panic energy.
This was alive energy.
Emma’s eyes widened. “Does that mean you’re famous?”
Robyn laughed again, glancing toward Emma. “It means I get to talk about books for a living.”
“That sounds like being famous.”
Tyler managed a smile. He wanted to be happy for her. He really did. He was happy for her. But the word that kept repeating in his head wasn’t program or course or congratulations.
It was leave.
Robyn shifted closer to Tyler, face bright. “They want me to send them a course description by the end of the week. Like a pitch. I’m going to work on it tonight after I eat. I’m so excited I feel—”
She cut herself off, perhaps realizing she was rambling, and laughed softly at herself.
Tyler’s throat went dry.
Robyn reached into her purse and pulled out her phone, flipping open to her planner app.
“I made a list,” she said, already swiping, “of ways we could make the long-distance thing work.”
Tyler’s stomach sank.
He glanced toward Emma—Cole had walked by with his Irish Setter, Captain, and she had drifted over to give the pup a quick pet—but her ears were absolutely in range. Emma had the hearing of a bat when it came to anything that sounded like change.
Robyn turned her phone so Tyler could see. A document stared back at him.
Plan (Tyler + Robyn)
Tyler stared at it like it might bite him.
“Okay,” Robyn said, “hear me out. I know it sounds impossible, but it doesn’t have to be. I could come back here on long weekends. Yale has fall break. Thanksgiving. And there’s a week in December where my schedule is light if I stack my seminars on Tuesdays.”
Tyler swallowed. “Robyn—”
“And,” she kept going, voice warm and hopeful, “you and Emma could come visit me. Not all the time, obviously. But sometimes. New Haven isn’t that far. It’s, what—”
“Ten hours,” Tyler said flatly.
Robyn blinked. “Eight if you—”
“It’s ten,” Tyler repeated, because he’d already done the math in his head fifteen times.
Robyn’s smile wavered. “Okay. Ten. Still. People do this.”
Tyler leaned back against the brick wall beside the café window, arms folding tight. He felt it happening: his chest closing, the old familiar shutdown sliding in like a door locking from the inside.
People did this.
People did a lot of things.
People also left and forgot the people they were supposed to love.
Robyn’s voice softened, careful now, like she could feel him slipping away and was trying to hold him with gentleness. “We could set a schedule. FaceTime every night. Or every other night. And we’d plan visits, so it doesn’t feel like it’s always up in the air.”
She swallowed. “I don’t want this to end, Tyler.”
There it was.
The sentence that should’ve made him melt.
Instead, all Tyler could hear was the unspoken half: because I’m leaving.
His voice came out sharper than he meant. “So I’m supposed to just… slot myself into your calendar?”
Robyn’s eyebrows drew together. “What? No. That’s not—”
“That’s what this is,” Tyler said, gesturing at the screen. “A calendar.”
Robyn’s cheeks flushed. “I’m trying to be practical.”
Tyler let out a rough laugh. “Of course you are.”
Robyn’s excitement drained in quick, startled increments. “What is going on with you?”
Tyler looked away because if he looked at her—at her hopeful eyes, her hands gripping her phone—he was going to say something he couldn’t take back.
He tried anyway. “Nothing.”
Robyn’s voice sharpened. “That’s not true.” She lowered her voice. Tyler knew she was trying not to make a scene on Oak Way. “Tyler. Talk to me.”
His throat tightened. He didn’t want to be this guy. He didn’t want to ruin her good news with his fear.
But his fear had teeth.
“You’re excited,” he said, voice too flat. “You’re glowing. You’re already… halfway gone.”
Robyn blinked like he’d slapped her. “That’s not fair.”
Tyler’s laugh came out rough and quiet. “Isn’t it?”
Robyn’s hands tightened on her phone. “I’m trying to find a way to have both. I’m trying to find a way to keep you in my life.”
Tyler’s chest burned.
“Yeah,” he said, low. “And I’m trying to figure out what the point is.”
Robyn’s eyes darted around. But it was too late to take this conversation private. The words were already out.
Tyler’s voice came out low and raw. “You’re leaving.”
Robyn’s eyes flashed. “I’m not leaving you. Or Emma. Or Maple Falls. Or—” She shook her head, frustrated. “I don’t know yet. That’s why I’m trying to talk about it.”
Tyler felt himself sliding into the old track. His past hurt turning into anger because anger was easier than begging.
“You can’t just plan this into something that will work. But that’s what you always do,” he said, voice tight. “You make lists. You make plans. You arrange your life so it makes sense on paper—”
Robyn cut in, sharp. “Because I’m trying not to fall apart, Tyler.”
Silence.
Even the sounds of downtown—the café door opening, someone laughing across the street—felt farther away.
“And what if you decide Yale wins?” Tyler asked, hating how small his voice sounded.
Robyn flinched. “It’s not a contest.”
“It is,” Tyler said, and he hated how certain he was. “Everything becomes a contest eventually.”
“Tyler,” Robyn hissed, glancing around. “We’re outside.”
“Yeah,” Tyler snapped back, then immediately regretted the volume, because Emma’s head jerked up.
Her face had gone pale.
“Emma—” Tyler started, automatically lowering his voice.
Emma looked at Robyn, then at Tyler. Her mouth trembled.
“So you’re leaving,” she whispered.
Robyn’s face crumpled. “No, sweetheart—”
But Emma backed up like the words couldn’t reach her. “I’m going home.”
“Em, wait,” Tyler said, stepping forward.
Emma turned and ran toward her house. Toward the route she knew by heart.
Tyler’s body reacted fast, already moving after her, leaving Robyn on the sidewalk, and he didn’t look back.