Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
Izzy
Izzy Tierney felt weightless, her surfboard slicing through the water as though it were an extension of her body. The wave — perfect, glassy, and cresting just right — held her in a fleeting, magical balance. The salty air kissed her skin as she leaned into the turn, her toes gripping the waxed surface of her surfboard. This was what happiness felt like. Pure, uncomplicated, blissful.
She rode the wave all the way to shore, leaping off her board at the last second and landing knee-deep in the foamy surf. With a grin, she turned to watch the ocean reclaim her wave, the sea as endless and inviting as the sky above. Life wasn’t perfect — she was still figuring out her place at Second Star — but here, she was content. Or at least, she was supposed to be.
The beach stretched out before her, quiet except for the rhythmic sound of the waves and the distant chatter of tourists from the small surf school set up a few hundred feet away in the direction of Carmen Beach.
Izzy dropped her board next to her beach towel and sat down, the sand warm beneath her. Santa Teresa wasn’t a typical lounging beach — there was more of a rocky stretch than the perfect beaches that existed all throughout Costa Rica — but she liked that. It was a surfing haven, and she barely had to compete for a towel spot.
She’d been in Costa Rica for two weeks now, working with Pete’s nonprofit, Second Star. She’d only been with the organization for a little under a year, and she still felt like an imposter most days. The organization provided funding for children’s homes to offer extracurricular activities, and Izzy’s job was to ensure the partnership was working well for the organization and adjust as needed. The two children’s homes in Costa Rica were in San Jose, but she always preferred to spend at least one or two days of her trip surfing on the Nicoya Peninsula, particularly at her favorite beach this time of year, Santa Teresa. The work was fulfilling, the weather flawless, and every day ended with sunsets that seemed to be painted just for her. It was the kind of life she’d dreamed about during her restless nights as a bartender back in San Francisco.
The buzz of her phone from her beach bag pulled her back to reality. Izzy leaned over to grab it, the screen lighting up with a message from Maggie.
Maggie
What time do you get in on Friday?
Izzy stared at the message for a long moment, the afterglow of her perfect wave fading into something more complicated. Another trip with the group meant seeing Maggie, Pete, Danica… and Kiera.
Kiera Phillips. Just the thought of her name sent a ripple of restlessness and something warmer, more bittersweet, through Izzy. They hadn’t spoken since the Telluride trip, where Kiera had managed to alienate most of the group by playing referee between Pete and Danica, who hadn’t yet figured out that they were meant for each other. Kiera’s attempts to keep them apart had felt to everyone else as misguided and unnecessary, but Izzy had seen the strain in Kiera’s eyes, the way she was trying — maybe too hard — to keep the group dynamic from changing.
Izzy sighed, tossing her phone down on the towel. She stretched out on her back, letting the sun dry the last traces of seawater on her skin. Of course, she wanted to see her friends. Maggie’s chaotic humor, Pete’s unshakable confidence, Danica’s steady presence. But Kiera? That was… complicated. They had kissed once in college — a fleeting, impulsive moment during a party. Izzy still remembered how soft Kiera’s lips were, how her laughter had turned into something quieter, more tentative, before their mouths met. It hadn’t gone any further, and neither of them had brought it up again, but Izzy often wondered what might have happened if they had.
Her phone buzzed again. Another text, this time from Pete.
Pete
mags told me she texted you! don’t make me come drag you to the beach house myself because i’ll do it!!!!
Izzy couldn’t help but laugh. Pete’s blend of tough love and relentless support was one of the reasons they’d been best friends for so long. If Pete was going, there was no way Izzy could say no. She tapped out a quick reply to Maggie.
Izzy
Early. I’ll rent a car and meet you at the beach house.
As she slipped her phone back into her bag, a flicker of nerves stirred in her chest. Seeing Kiera again would be… something. Maybe a chance to clear the air, maybe just a new way to get knocked sideways. Izzy wasn’t sure. Lately, she wasn’t sure about a lot of things. But she’d already spent too much time keeping people at arm’s length. And whatever this turned into, she’d face it. Let it come. Let it pull her under, if it had to.
That evening, the world around Izzy softened into a slow, golden hush. The air, thick with salt and the scent of blooming jasmine, clung to her skin as she wandered back to her rented bungalow — a small, sun-bleached space with uneven wooden steps and a crooked porch light that flickered at dusk. It wasn’t fancy, but it was hers for a few days, and it was quiet. Peaceful.
Izzy grabbed a cold Imperial beer from the tiny fridge, the bottle sweating instantly in the humid air. She stepped outside to the creaky hammock strung between two posts and sank into it with a sigh. The hammock rocked lazily with every movement, the worn fabric familiar against her bare legs. Before her, the sky stretched endlessly, painted with ribbons of lavender, peach, and molten orange as the sun melted into the Pacific.
She’d spent a lot of time alone lately — not because she wanted to, exactly, but because it felt simpler. Less complicated. Being around people, even people she loved, sometimes made everything feel louder inside her head. Out here, with no one expecting anything from her, she didn’t have to explain the ache she couldn’t quite name. She could just sit in it. Let it hum quietly under the moon and pretend it wasn’t still waiting to be answered.
It should have been enough — this life she’d carved out, simple and beautiful. The kind of existence that was supposed to quiet the constant itch of restlessness inside her. But the moment she let herself relax, her thoughts found their way back to the one thing she didn’t want to think about.
To Kiera.
Izzy tried to push the thought away — tried to focus on the soft crash of the waves or the slow hum of crickets starting their nightly chorus — but her mind kept pulling her back. The memory of Kiera’s hopeful, awkward smile in Telluride haunted her like a half-finished song. She hadn’t expected to miss her. Hell, she hadn’t expected to think about her.
And yet… there she was, lodged in her brain like a splinter she couldn’t remove.
Her phone buzzed on the armrest. She almost ignored it. But when she glanced down and saw Pete’s name flashing on the screen, she sighed and answered.
“Hey, troublemaker,” Izzy said, trying to sound light, like she wasn’t coming apart under the weight of her own thoughts. She ran a hand through her short hair, tugging at the blonde strands.
“You better not be ditching on me,” Pete shot back, her voice carrying a familiar warmth wrapped in playful gruffness. “I will personally fly down there and drag you to San Diego if I have to.”
Izzy forced a laugh, pushing her hair out of her face and adjusting herself in the hammock until the fabric cradled her more securely. “Relax. I’m coming. You know I wouldn’t miss a chance to witness all of you make fools of yourselves.”
The pause on the other end was slight but noticeable. “You’ve been quiet,” Pete said, her usual teasing tone dialed down. “Not just missing calls. Like… gone quiet. Is this one of your disappearing acts?”
Izzy tipped her head back, resting the cold beer bottle against her forehead. “I’m here,” she said, which wasn’t the same as I’m fine , but still not the truth. “Just laying low.”
Pete made a small, unimpressed sound. “Laying low or pushing everyone out before they get too close?”
Izzy’s jaw tensed. “I’m not pushing anyone out. I’ve just been surfing for a few days, and you know what I do for work. I’m just enjoying being on my own.”
“You’re always on your own,” Pete said gently. “And for someone who claims to love it, you don’t sound all that happy about it.”
Izzy didn’t respond right away. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and the sky was sliding into blue-gray. She watched the tide move in slow, steady pulses — indifferent, unbothered, sure of itself in a way she wasn’t.
“How’s married life?” Izzy asked, clearing her throat.
“Okay, deflection queen. I get it. And Danica and I aren’t married yet. You’d know. You’ll be my best person up there,” Pete said.
“That’s cute. I will gladly hold your bouquet for you,” Izzy teased.
“I’m very excited to get you a bit drunk and play therapist about your weird deep-seeded issues this weekend.” Pete said.
“Did you just say deep-seeded?” Izzy said, her smile clearly evident in her near-laugh.
“Yeah.”
“Deep-seated. Like the seat is deep.”
“That doesn’t make sense. It’s seeded, like you plant the seed really deep,” Pete said, stubbornly.
“No, bud. That’s…”
“Stop trying to distract me from your deeply sown issues,” Pete said with a laugh.
The tightness in Izzy’s chest loosened. She was excited to see Pete again, and Maggie, and Danica. Kiera would just be a part of the weekend she could avoid if necessary, she supposed. The sun had disappeared completely now, leaving the sky streaked with the soft gray of early twilight. The waves crashed on, steady and constant, unbothered by human fears and mistakes.
“I’m here for you anytime, okay?” Pete’s voice was gentle now. “You’re doing a damn good job in Costa Rica, and I know you’re like a bazillion miles away but you’re not in this alone. In anything alone, if you don’t want to be.”
“Fine. Now, let me off this invisible therapist couch,” Izzy groaned, but Pete’s words did warm her.
They hung up a minute later, but Izzy didn’t move from the hammock. She sat there for what felt like hours, watching as the sky shifted from gold to purple to deep, endless black.
And when she finally went inside and climbed into bed, Kiera’s name was still tangled up in her thoughts, stubborn and quiet like the tide pulling back to shore.