Epilogue
River Stone
I pull into the Barrett driveway and cut the engine, the sudden silence broken only by the tick of cooling metal and distant laughter from the backyard. Through the windshield, I can see string lights already glowing softly against the late-afternoon sky.
I grab the graduation present from the passenger seat. It’s wrapped in silver paper with a crease down one side from where I kept repositioning it during the drive. My palms are sweating. Ridiculous. It’s just a graduation party. Just Kiera.
Except it’s not “just” anything when it comes to her.
The spring air hits me when I step out—warm and salt-tinged, carrying the sweet scent of the lilac bushes planted along the fence.
I take a deep breath, trying to settle the nervous energy thrumming through my chest. I’ve had this crushing, persistent, completely inconvenient thing for Kiera ever since our Las Vegas trip five months ago.
And I’m pretty sure Kiki knows, given how often she’s engineered reasons for us to be in the same room together.
Not that Kiera has noticed. Or if she has, she’s pretending she hasn’t.
I ring the doorbell, and Skyler yanks it open before the chime even finishes. “Hi, River! Come in.”
“Hey, squirt.” I ruffle her hair as I pass through, and she giggles before darting away.
The backyard is transformed with tables draped in purple and white, Kiera’s school colors. There are string lights crisscrossing between trees and clusters of balloons bobbing near the deck. Music plays underneath the chatter of guests.
“River!” Kiki waves me over to the dessert table, where she’s arranging plates beside a stunning three-tiered cake.
“That’s incredible,” I say. “Levi outdid himself.”
“Gluten-free red velvet.” Levi appears beside me, grinning. “Took me three tries to get the texture right, but Claire can actually eat this one.”
I scan the yard and find Kiera standing near the grill with Tobias and Noah, her pink-streaked hair catching the sunlight. She’s wearing a simple sundress, but something about the way she stands makes my heart do that stupid flutter thing.
She must sense my attention because her head turns, and our eyes meet. For half a second, something flickers in her expression before she looks away quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
Right. Still keeping me at arm’s length.
I weave through clusters of guests, catching fragments of conversation and the smell of charcoal from the grill.
Noah and Savannah have moved to stand by themselves near the garden beds bursting with early roses.
Noah’s hand rests on the small of Savannah’s back with easy familiarity, and they’re having one of those intense, quiet conversations—the kind where you can tell important things are being said even if you can’t hear the words.
Savannah keeps looking down at her engagement ring, and I know she’s looking forward to their wedding in a few months. It was so sweet how Noah proposed. It was so moving even I got choked up.
I push down the pang of longing and focus on Kiera, who’s now examining the contents of the appetizer table with intense concentration, like the arrangement of crackers and cheese is the most fascinating thing she’s ever seen.
“Hey, Kiera. Congrats on graduating,” I say as I approach.
She turns to face me, her expression smoothing into polite friendliness. “Thanks. High school was basically a four-year exercise in not losing my mind, so graduating feels like a minor miracle.”
I laugh, holding out the wrapped present. “This is for you.”
Her eyebrows lift. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”
“I wanted to.”
She unwraps it slowly. When the chef’s knife case comes into view, she goes still. Her fingers trace the leather before opening it to reveal the blade inside.
“River.” She sighs, and for a moment, the guarded walls drop. “This is… this is really nice. Too nice.”
“You’re going to need good tools if you’re serious about cooking.” I shove my hands into my pockets. “I figured you could use it.”
She looks up at me, something softening in her expression before she catches herself. The walls slide back into place. “Thank you. Really. This means a lot.”
“Can we cut the cake now?” Skyler comes barreling over. “Uncle Levi said we have to wait, but I’m hungry!”
Kiera laughs and ruffles Skyler’s hair. “Soon, Little Pup. Let me talk to River for a minute, okay?”
“Okay, but hurry!” Skyler races off.
“So, um, what have you been up to?” Kiera asks, still holding the knife box like a shield. “I feel like I haven’t seen you much lately.”
“Editing. So much editing. I’ve been basically living in my apartment, staring at footage until my eyes cross. I have three film festivals I want to submit to this fall, and I’m not sure I have enough good material.”
“That sounds stressful.”
“It is. And I keep forgetting to eat, which probably isn’t helping.” I run a hand through my hair. “I’ll be in the zone editing, and suddenly it’s nine at night and I realize I haven’t had anything except coffee all day.”
“Right, because nothing says ‘successful filmmaker’ like passing out from malnutrition.” She crosses her arms, concern flickering behind the snark. “Very romantic vision of the starving artist.”
I try to redirect. “What are your plans now that you’ve graduated? Are you going to school?”
Her expression shifts, and she’s suddenly more guarded. She looks down at the knife. “I’m just working at the bakery. Part-time.”
“But?”
She glances around like she’s checking if anyone’s listening. “But there’s this culinary school on the mainland. They’re hosting a cooking competition in July. The winner gets a full scholarship.”
“That’s incredible. Are you going to enter?”
“I want to.” She says it quietly, like admitting wanting something is dangerous. “But the competition entry fee is two hundred and fifty dollars, plus ingredients… I’m trying to save up, but Levi doesn’t need a full-time employee.”
An idea sparks. “What if I hired you?”
“Hired me?” Suspicion creeps into her expression.
“To cook for me. I’m serious about the skipping meals thing. But if you came over a few times a week and cooked actual food, I’d pay you well. And you could practice your recipes on me, try out different things for the competition.”
Kiera stares at me. “You want to pay me to cook for you?”
“Yes. Think about it. You need practice and money, and I need to eat like a functional human being. It’s a win-win. You could experiment, get feedback. I’m a very honest taste-tester.”
A short laugh escapes her, but there’s wariness in her eyes. “That’s the most ridiculous job proposal I’ve ever heard.”
“Is that a yes?”
She worries her bottom lip. “How much would you pay?”
“What do you make at the bakery?”
“About fifteen an hour.”
“I’ll pay you thirty an hour plus money for ingredients.”
Her eyes go wide, then narrow. “Thirty? River, that’s too much.”
“It’s not. You’d be saving my life, basically. Come on. Let me hire you. You can use my kitchen as your personal culinary laboratory.”
She studies my face for a long moment. Finally, something shifts. “Okay. Yes. I’ll do it.”
Relief floods through me. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. When do you want me to start?”
“Tomorrow?” I say it too quickly. “I mean, if you’re available.”
Amusement flickers across her face. “Tomorrow works. What time?”
“Six? You could make dinner and we could eat together.”
“Six it is.” She extends her hand, keeping this professional. “You’ve got yourself a personal chef.”
I take her hand, and the electric awareness I’ve been trying to ignore zings up my arm. For a second, neither of us moves, then she pulls her hand back a beat too quickly to be casual.
“Yeah, I should go make myself useful,” she says, breathlessness underneath the snark. “Can’t have Kiki doing all the work while I stand around making dubious business deals. Tomorrow, then. Try to survive until six.”
“Tomorrow,” I echo, watching as she walks away without looking back.
“Smooth,” a voice says behind me. I turn to find Micah grinning with Cricket tucked under his arm. “Very smooth.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, but I can feel the stupid smile on my face.
Cricket laughs. “River, everyone can see you’re into her.”
“Was it that obvious?”
“Painfully,” Micah says. “But I think she might like you too. She kept looking over here earlier.”
“Really?”
Cricket’s smile turns sympathetic. “Really. But be patient with her, okay? She’s been through a lot, and she doesn’t trust easily. She’s going to push back. Test you.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say.
“Good. Because she needs someone who’ll stick around.”
I shift the conversation. “I heard your album is finished. When does it drop?”
Micah lights up. “July fifteenth. It’s surreal, honestly.”
“It’s not a dream,” Cricket says softly, looking up at him. “You earned this.”
“How’s your book coming?” I ask Cricket.
“I finished all the rewrites my content editor suggested. I’m self-publishing in August. It’s terrifying and exciting.”
“It’s amazing,” Micah says. “I’ve read it probably ten times.”
Watching them together makes that longing in my chest intensify. My gaze drifts to where Kiera is helping Kiki at the dessert table. She glances over and holds my gaze a moment longer than necessary before turning back with the smallest hint of a smile.
Tomorrow. It’s a start.
“All right, everyone!” Tobias calls out. “Time to cut the cake. Kiera, get over here.”
The yard erupts in cheers as Kiera makes her way to the cake table, cheeks flushing pink. Skyler bounces excitedly beside her, and Levi hands her the cake server.
“Speech!” Noah calls out, and others pick up the chant.
Kiera looks like she wants to disappear. She clears her throat. “Um, thanks, everyone, for coming. And thanks to Kiki and Tobias for throwing this party even though I told them not to make a big deal—”
“Too late!” Tobias shouts, making everyone laugh.
Kiera’s smile grows more genuine. “I know I wasn’t always the easiest person to live with, but… you took me in when I had nowhere else to go. You made me part of your family. So thank you. For everything.”
Kiki’s eyes shine with tears. Skyler wraps her arms around Kiera’s legs in a fierce hug, and Kiera laughs.
“We love you, Kiera,” Kiki says. “We’re so proud of you.”
As everyone clusters around for cake and laughter fills the warm spring air, contentment settles over me. This island, these people—they’ve become home in a way LA never was.
And tomorrow, Kiera will be in my apartment—letting me into her world, even if it’s just a crack in the door.
Later that night, I’m pulling out a frozen pizza when my phone buzzes on the counter.
It’s Kiera.
My heart lifts as I reach for it, but the message makes my stomach drop.
Hey, I’ve been thinking about tomorrow. Maybe this isn’t a good idea after all. I don’t want to complicate things. Sorry.
I stare at the screen, reading the words again. And again.
She’s backing out. Already.
I start typing a response then delete it. Start again. Delete again. Every word I come up with sounds desperate or pushy or wrong.
My finger hovers over the keyboard, my mind racing. Whatever I say next could determine everything—whether she shows up tomorrow, whether I get a chance to prove I’m serious about staying, whether this thing between us even has a shot.
I take a breath and start typing.