Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
Izzy
Izzy’s eyes fluttered open to the faint glow of early dawn filtering through the sheer curtains of her bedroom. She stretched lazily, the sound of the waves drifting in from the beach like a soothing morning song. For a moment, she just lay there, letting the rhythm of the ocean seep into her, lulling her into a rare sense of peace. But as the minutes ticked by, the restlessness crept in. It always did.
She slipped out of bed, grabbing her wetsuit from the chair where she’d draped it the night before. The house was quiet, still steeped in sleep, as she padded barefoot through the front door and out onto the sand. The horizon stretched in every direction, still gray from dawn's light. She knew she'd be surfing later with Pete, but she wanted a moment to enjoy it alone.
Izzy loved this part of the day — when the world felt wide open and the air buzzed with the promise of something new. She didn’t have to think too much about anything except catching the next wave. Pulling her wetsuit on and taking a moment to awkwardly fumble with the long zipper pull, she grabbed her board and waded into the cool water, letting it bite at her skin and wake her up completely.
The first wave was small, an easy ride to test her balance. She stood up smoothly, the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through her as the wave propelled her forward. By the time the next one rolled in, she was ready, leaning into the movement with practiced grace. For a little while, it was perfect. The world was just her and the ocean.
But even here, where she felt most free, something felt… off. Maybe it was the weird way she felt around Kiera, still. She was so angry at Kiera for trying to ruin her best friend's happiness back in Telluride, and it was the kind of grudge that came with a long history of complications.
Now, Kiera was divorced, like Izzy. Divorce was its own kind of scar — visible to anyone who cared to look closely enough. Maybe Kiera’s meddling in Telluride hadn’t just been about Pete and Danica. Maybe it had been about trying to make something — anything — work, even if it wasn’t hers.
The anger was there, but there was something else. An uncertainty. She couldn’t name it, but it was there, a quiet hum beneath the surface of her thoughts. As she paddled back out, waiting for the next set of waves, her mind wandered. She’d spent years chasing this — freedom, movement, the kind of life that looked wide open from the outside. And she did love it, most of the time. But lately, she’d started to wonder if all the motion was just a way to outrun stillness.
Izzy sighed and lay back on her board, staring up at the lightening sky as the waves gently rocked her. She shook the thought away. This wasn’t the time for an existential crisis. She was here, in San Diego, surrounded by friends she hadn’t seen in over a year. That was what mattered.
When she returned to the house, damp and sandy but exhilarated from the morning session, the smell of coffee and frying bacon greeted her. The great room was bathed in sunlight now, the windows flooding the space with warmth. Pete stood at the stove, wielding a spatula with dramatic flair, while Maggie and Danica hovered around the counter, cutting fruit and pouring orange juice into glasses.
“Look who decided to grace us with her presence,” Pete called out, flipping a pancake in the air. “How many waves did you conquer this morning on dawn patrol?"
“More than you, yawn patrol,” Izzy shot back, grinning as she grabbed a towel from a nearby chair to pat her hair dry. “And enough to know I’m starving. Where’s the coffee?”
Danica pointed toward the French press on the counter. “Help yourself. But if you want pancakes, you’re going to have to be nice to Pete.”
“Unlikely,” Izzy said, pouring herself a mug of coffee and taking a grateful sip. She turned to the dining table, where Kiera sat nursing her own mug, her dark bobbed hair still slightly mussed from sleep, her large glasses sliding down her nose as she stared at her phone. Izzy slid into the chair across from Kiera, not making eye contact.
Kiera set down her phone, looking pleased with herself. “I just finished Wordle in two guesses."
"Hell yeah, Kier," Maggie said, settling into the seat beside Izzy. "That is all skill, no luck."
"Do people still play Wordle?" Izzy asked as she blew onto her coffee.
"I still play it, and I'm a person, so all signs point to yes," Kiera said, her tone playful.
Izzy shrugged, looking back toward Pete who was nuzzling Danica's neck. She was happy for her friends but did they have to be so fucking cute and annoying about their love? Kiera and Maggie followed Izzy's line of sight.
"Disgusting," Maggie muttered with a hint of a smile as she turned back with an exaggerated eye roll.
"Horrible," Izzy concurred.
“The worst.” Kiera added, her eyes moving to Izzy's wet hair. “Did you already go surfing?”
“Yep.” Izzy studied her for a moment. Kiera looked… off. There was something about the way her shoulders curved inward, the faint puffiness around her eyes. For a moment, she hated how standoffish she’d been to Kiera, how she’d dismissed every attempt at conversation since they arrived. But the chaos Kiera had caused, the unnecessary drama… It wasn’t something she could easily forgive or forget, no matter how tired or vulnerable Kiera looked now.
Izzy let the silence stretch for a beat before Pete plunked down a plate of pancakes in front of her with a flourish. “For our local mermaid,” Pete announced. "I made them surfboard-shaped for you."
The pancakes in question were indeed surfboard-shaped, in that they were roughly oval in appearance, but Izzy grinned at Pete's enthusiasm. “They look great,” Izzy said, saluting Pete with her fork before digging in.
The morning unfolded with the easy banter of old friends. Pete's pancake-flipping show prompted teasing from Maggie, while Danica playfully rolled her eyes at their silliness. But Izzy couldn’t help glancing at Kiera now and then, noticing the way she stayed quiet, only chiming in when someone asked her a direct question.
After a quick breakfast, Danica noticed the glaring omission of sunscreen. Everyone was unprepared except Maggie, who fiercely guarded her precious Korean sunscreen, muttering about its exquisite formulation and how it was far too precious to share. Danica volunteered Kiera and Izzy to make a quick run to the local market. “Pete and I already did our good deed for the day by cooking breakfast. You two can handle this one!"
Izzy shot a pleading stare at Pete, but her best friend was concentrating on cleaning a corner of the counter with fervor. Was Pete... hiding a smile?
Izzy arched a brow at Kiera, who gave a small shrug. “Guess it’s us,” Kiera said, grabbing her bag.
The market was a short walk away, the kind of charming local spot that sold everything from organic produce to handmade candles. The silence between them stretched, heavy and awkward, as they walked along the sidewalk. Kiera cleared her throat and tried to start a conversation, her voice hesitant.
“So, uh, you started working at Pete's foundation?" Kiera asked.
Izzy didn’t look at her, keeping her gaze fixed on the path ahead. “Yep.” She kept her response brief. She'd survive this grocery trip, but that didn't mean she had to enjoy it.
Kiera nodded, fiddling with the strap of her bag. “That sounds… good. Traveled anywhere fun lately?”
“I was in Costa Rica last week, and next week we're meeting with a new organization in Denver. Pete wants to focus on more things stateside in the next few years, given we don’t know how much funding is going to be cut over the next few years with this administration," Izzy replied, her voice neutral.
"Smart, given how shitty America is becoming for anyone who isn't a billionaire white guy," Kiera muttered.
"Exactly," Izzy said curtly, nodding.
Kiera answered with a small laugh, even though it sounded a bit forced. “Well, you’ve got the tan to prove you’re doing something right out there.”
Izzy’s lips twitched, but she didn’t smile. “Guess so.”
They entered the market, the air conditioning raising goosebumps on Izzy’s arms as her sandals slapped against the linoleum flooring.
"Are you a mineral sunscreen person?" Kiera asked as they paused to stare at the end cap display of various sunscreens, her voice intentionally light, hoping to ease the tension. "You know, the whole coral reef-safe debate?"
Izzy crossed her arms, her gaze skimming over the rows of bottles. "I usually just grab whatever works," she said flatly. "I don’t overthink it."
Kiera tilted her head, picking up a bright blue bottle and examining it. "Mineral’s supposed to be better for sensitive skin," she offered, trying to fill the silence.
Izzy exhaled with exasperation, reaching for a bottle of chemical sunscreen. "This works fine for me."
"But isn’t it bad for marine life? I mean, with all the studies—" Kiera started, her tone edging toward defensiveness.
Izzy cut her off, her voice sharper now. "Not everything has to be a debate, Kiera."
The words hung in the air, stinging. Kiera blinked, her hand faltering as she set the bottle back on the shelf. "I wasn’t trying to start a debate," she said softly. "I just thought?—"
"You just thought you’d lecture me about sunscreen.” Izzy grabbed a bottle and tossed it into the basket she’d grabbed near the entrance.
Kiera’s cheeks flushed, and Izzy instantly felt a pang of regret for the harsh words. That wasn't like her. She was a go-with-the-flow person, but Kiera brought out something more difficult to manage within her.
"I wasn’t—" Kiera stopped herself, shaking her head. "Never mind."
"’Kay,” Izzy said flatly. Her guilt wasn’t going to make things instantly better between them. The basket swung in Izzy’s hand as she headed for the self-checkout. Kiera froze for a moment before she followed, her steps hesitant.
The weight of the unspoken tension followed as they left the store, pressed down harder with every step, thick like the humid ocean air. Izzy walked ahead with deliberate, purposeful strides, her shoulders set as if bracing against something unseen. Kiera followed a half-step behind.
By the time they reached the house, sunscreen in tow, Izzy’s frustration had dulled to a simmering ache in her chest. The walk back had been quiet, crowded with words unsaid. She didn’t even know why she was so angry — no, that wasn’t true. She knew exactly why.
It had been easier to be mad at Kiera. Easier to replay all the ways she’d meddled during that mess in Telluride, to keep the story simple: Kiera made things harder. Full stop. Izzy clung to that version because it let her avoid the truth — that even back in college, and again on that chaotic trip, there had been moments when she'd wanted to lean in instead of pull away. Moments that scared her more than any argument ever could.
But now? Now the silence felt safer. The distance gave her room to breathe — and to hide. Because if she let the anger go, she’d have to face what was underneath: a question she didn’t know how to answer, a feeling that refused to stay buried. And Izzy wasn’t ready to look at that. Not yet.
Guilt clawed at her anyway. She shouldn’t have snapped at Kiera like that — over sunscreen, of all things. It wasn’t fair. But every time Kiera tried to bridge the gap between them, Izzy felt the old annoyance from Telluride pulse under the surface. She wasn’t ready to forgive Kiera just yet, not after how much Kiera had hurt Danica and Pete, not after the mess she’d made.
And yet, seeing Kiera’s face when she shut her down — a flicker of hurt, quickly masked by polite detachment — made Izzy feel even worse.
It would be so much easier if she could just stop caring altogether.
Back inside the house, the others were already prepping for an afternoon at the beach, laughter filling the space. Izzy stayed by the door for a second longer than she needed to, staring down at the bottle of sunscreen in her hand.
It doesn’t have to mean anything. That had been her mantra after that stupid kiss back in college. A mistake. A moment of weakness. But every time Kiera looked at her with that hesitant, hopeful softness, it chipped away at the carefully built mantra just a little more.
Izzy set the sunscreen on the counter with more force than necessary and slipped away before anyone could notice her lingering discomfort. She needed air. She needed space.
She stepped out onto the back deck, the ocean breeze tugging at the loose strands of her hair. She tried to remind herself of how simple things were supposed to be here — surf, sun, and friends. But the longer she stood there, staring out at the waves, the more complicated it all felt.
You’re being ridiculous, she told herself. You don’t owe Kiera anything, not even after years of friendship.
But deep down, she wasn’t sure that was true.