Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
Izzy
The sun had long since set, leaving the beach house wrapped in the warm glow of the dining room lights. The sliding doors were open, welcoming in the cool night air, and the ocean sounds were a steady backdrop to the hum of conversation. The long wooden table was cluttered with half-empty wine glasses, serving bowls, and the remnants of dinner, but most of the attention was fixed on Maggie’s swollen and bruised nose, now covered in a comically large bandage.
“I swear to god,” Maggie muttered, her voice thick and nasally, “if I end up with a permanent bump, that guy’s paying for my rhinoplasty.”
Pete smirked, taking a sip of beer. “I’m just saying, you should’ve ducked.”
Maggie’s head snapped up. “Excuse me? Should’ve ducked ? That thing came at me like a heat-seeking missile!”
“It really did,” Danica said sympathetically, hiding her smile behind her glass of wine. “Honestly, it was kind of impressive.”
Kiera, seated diagonally across from Izzy, reached for the salad bowl and almost met her gaze. Izzy had been all-to-aware of her all evening, but every time they got too close to making eye contact, she looked away, feigning interest in her food.
“I think you should lean into it,” Kiera said. “Tell people it was a heroic act, like you saved a child from an oncoming frisbee. Or took a hit to win the championship point in an ultimate frisbee match.”
Maggie rolled her eyes, but a grin tugged at the edge of her mouth. “Yes, my valor will be remembered forever. At least it’s on the last full day of the trip, and I can go convalesce in peace tomorrow.”
Pete pointed her fork at Maggie. “Honestly? I think it makes you look very cool.”
Maggie looked helpless for a moment. “What if it like, heals weird? Or scars?”
Danica elbowed Pete, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Women love scars.”
“Why do you have to call me out like that?” Pete shot back playfully.
Danica held her hands up. “I wasn’t naming names.”
Maggie’s smirk deepened, shimmying her shoulders suggestively.
Pete blushed, burying her face in her hands as laughter rippled around the table.
Izzy chanced another glance at Kiera, only to find her already looking. It lasted less than a second — just long enough to send a jolt through Izzy’s chest — before Kiera looked away, pretending to focus on her plate. Izzy took a long sip of her drink, willing herself to shake off the feeling.
After dinner, Pete and Danica excused themselves for a “walk on the beach,” which everyone at the table understood to mean they were sneaking off to make out in the dunes. Maggie, still groggy from her pain meds, mumbled something about watching TV before shuffling off to her room.
Izzy lingered in the kitchen, rinsing her glass, aware of Kiera moving nearby, stacking dishes. The silence between them was palpable, tangible in its intensity.
Kiera leaned her hip against the counter. “Sorry, was I being too distracting?”
Izzy rolled her eyes. “You’re really never going to let me forget I said that.”
“Of course I won’t.”
Izzy smirked. “I stand by it.”
Kiera shut a cupboard door, hooking her drying towel over her shoulder. “You’re being so weird. And every time I feel like we’re getting close, you leave.” She shook her head. “Am I reading something wrong? I just — if I did something, if I made you uncomfortable, just tell me.”
Izzy swallowed hard. “You’re not reading it wrong.”
Kiera turned to face her, arms crossed, her expression skeptical. “Then what’s with all the walking away? What do you want?”
Izzy knew she had two choices: lie and save face or tell the truth and risk her dignity and her friendship.
Her pulse thundered in her ears. And then, before she could second-guess herself, before she could talk herself out of it, she stepped forward, grabbed Kiera’s face between her hands, and kissed her.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t tentative. It was all the frustration, confusion, and unspoken longing crashing together in one reckless act.
For half a second, Kiera froze.
Then she melted.
Her hands found Izzy’s waist, pulling her closer. Izzy could feel the warmth of her, the way they fit together. The world outside the kitchen — the waves, the murmurs of wind through the open doors, the distant sound of Maggie’s TV — faded into nothing.
Then, Kiera pulled back, breathless, searching Izzy’s face like she was trying to make sense of what had just happened.
“Izzy,” she whispered.
Izzy’s chest heaved. Kiera’s lilac perfume was fresh and intoxicating, and Izzy wanted to bury her face in Kiera’s neck. “Yeah?”
Kiera’s gaze flickered down to her lips, then back up. “Is this a good idea?”
Izzy had no idea, but she wanted to find out. Instead of answering, she kissed Kiera again. Thankfully, this time, Kiera didn’t hesitate.
Her hands slid up Izzy’s arms, tentative at first, then firmer, fingers curling into the fabric of Izzy’s hoodie like she was anchoring herself there. Izzy sighed into the kiss, hands trailing down to grip Kiera’s hips, tugging her closer.
Kiera tasted like wine, and Izzy couldn’t think straight. Didn’t want to think straight.
She sure hoped Kiera wasn’t thinking straight, either.
Kiera’s fingers skated under the hem of Izzy’s hoodie, brushing against her skin. The touch sent a shiver down Izzy’s spine, and she deepened the kiss, pressing Kiera back against the counter, her hands splayed against her ribs.
Kiera made a quiet sound in the back of her throat, her fingers tightening against Izzy’s hips, and suddenly this felt real. Like something inevitable. Something that had been waiting for them both to stop running from it.
And then, just as Izzy was starting to lose herself completely, Kiera hesitated.
Not a full stop, not pulling away completely — but enough.
Izzy felt it like a cold rush of air between them. She stepped back, breath unsteady, suddenly aware of just how quiet the house was.
Kiera blinked, lips still parted, looking as dazed as Izzy felt. Her gaze flickered to the hallway, toward Maggie’s room and where Pete and Danica would eventually return.
Kiera’s expression shifted — not regret, but uncertainty. Izzy felt it settle around them like a weight. Izzy took another step back. The kitchen, which had felt so charged just seconds ago, now felt too small and too quiet.
Kiera opened her mouth like she was going to say something, but then closed it again, pressing her lips together. “Wow. Um. I—” Kiera started.
“Yeah,” Izzy cut in, forcing a lightness she didn’t feel.
They stood there, staring at each other, both waiting for the other to say something, to make the next move. Neither of them did. Because there wasn’t a simple answer.
Now that everything was out in the open, Izzy was absolutely terrified.
Izzy was forced to do what she did best, which was act cool and unbothered. She needed to avoid getting any more wrapped up in someone who wasn’t available. Again. Always. Kiera was straight, newly divorced, finding herself — she was unavailable whether she knew it or not. It was like the more someone couldn’t possibly give Izzy what she needed, the more she wanted it.
Izzy grabbed her bottle of water from the counter, and walked away before she could do something really stupid, like kiss Kiera again.
Izzy lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the sound of the waves rolling in through the open window. It should have been soothing. Normally, it was. The ocean had always been her place, the thing that calmed her when nothing else could. But tonight, the waves did nothing to quiet the electricity still running under her skin.
The taste of their kiss still lingered. The feeling of Kiera’s hands gripping her waist, the way she had leaned in so hesitantly and then kissed her with such passion, only to look so utterly confused after — it played over and over in Izzy’s mind like a song stuck on repeat. She should have expected it. Of course, Kiera would have doubts. Of course, she would second-guess. She was still figuring out who she was outside of being a wife and a mother. She didn’t even think Kiera was interested in women that way. The last thing Kiera needed was more uncertainty. Izzy didn’t want to complicate her life further.
And yet, Izzy hadn’t been able to stop herself. Not when Kiera had been looking at her like that, not when they had been standing so close in the dim kitchen, heat pooling between them.
Izzy turned onto her side, exhaling sharply, rubbing a hand over her face. She shouldn’t have done it. She knew better than this. Kiera wasn’t ready, and Izzy wasn’t trying to fall back into her habit of only chasing unavailable women. When she’d met Paisley, she seemed emotionally grounded and independent. Her coolness felt mature, sometimes even alluring. But it wasn’t long until she realized that Paisley was unreachable in the ways that mattered. They avoided conflict, didn’t talk about hard things, and wanted everything to stay on the surface. In the end, her marriage had turned distant and hollow. She’d told herself that it wasn’t Paisley’s fault, that she was just hard to love.
Maybe it was better to make that call now, with Kiera. Even if Kiera was available, which she wasn’t, she didn’t need anything difficult added in her life right now.
She reached for her phone on instinct, her thumb hovering over her flight itinerary. She hadn’t planned to leave until the late afternoon the next day, around the same time as everyone else, but the thought of staying, of pretending like nothing had happened, made her stomach twist. It would be easier to go early, to rip the bandage off before this got messier than it already was. She pulled up the airline app, searched for an earlier flight, and found one leaving first thing in the morning. Without hesitating, she changed her ticket, locking her phone and tossing it onto the nightstand before she could second-guess herself.
She closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep, but it didn’t come easily.
The house was still dark when Izzy crept down the stairs, her duffel bag slung over her shoulder, her sandals tucked under her arm to keep from making noise. She walked as quietly as she had while sneaking out for an early surfing session, slipping into the kitchen for a granola bar before heading for the door. It was better this way. No drawn-out goodbyes, no awkward conversations. Just a clean break.
She had almost made it when a voice stopped her. “ Seriously ?”
Izzy cursed under her breath and turned to find Pete standing in the doorway, arms crossed, looking very unimpressed for someone who had clearly just rolled out of bed. Her dark curls were sticking up in all directions, her oversized sleep shirt hanging loosely over her frame, but her eyes were sharp, taking in the duffel bag. “Sneaking out? Really?”
Izzy sighed, adjusting the strap on her shoulder. “It’s an early flight.”
“That’s not an answer,” Pete said, brow raised.
Izzy exhaled through her nose, already tired of the conversation. “Change of plans.”
“Bullshit.”
Izzy pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, I don’t have the energy for this right now, Pete.”
Pete leaned against the doorframe, studying her. “Does this have anything to do with a certain someone with short brown hair and glasses?”
“Nope.” Izzy rolled her eyes, turning back toward the door.
Pete snorted. “Right. Because it seems to me like you’re avoiding something big here by leaving without saying goodbye to anyone.”
Izzy sighed, running a hand through her hair.
“Why are you so afraid of things working out for you?” Pete asked, crossing her arms.
“I’m not,” Izzy said.
“You’re a terrible liar.” Pete didn’t move, still watching her, like she was waiting for Izzy to crack. The scrutiny of it made Izzy’s skin itch. Pete knew her too well. She knew when Izzy was running, when she was making excuses. And Izzy could tell she was about two seconds away from calling her on it.
“I don’t know how to do this,” Izzy said finally.
“Do what?”
“Kiera. I don’t know what to do there, and I just can’t… face it. Wanting is familiar, but being wanted? That’s terrifying.”
“You’re leaving because Kiera told you she wanted you?” Pete asked, her voice dipping lower to a whisper. “Isn’t that like best case scenario?”
“No,” Izzy said, her voice also dropping to a harsh whisper. “It’s the worst case.”
Pete shook her head. “I’ll tell Danica you had an emergency, I guess,” Pete said finally, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “She’ll be so sad to miss giving you the lecture about bailing this time around.”
Izzy hesitated, gripping the strap of her bag tighter. “I’ll text you when I land.”
Pete sighed, blowing her dark curls out of her face. “Fine. But promise me you’ll talk to a therapist about this, because you’re being irrational.”
Izzy forced a smirk that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I promise I’ll Google a therapist at least one time and consider it.”
She turned before Pete could say anything else, stepping outside into the cool morning air. The sun hadn’t even started rising yet, the world still half-asleep, the beach house quiet behind her.
Her Uber was already waiting at the curb, its headlights casting long beams through the pre-dawn darkness. She pulled the car door open, sliding into the backseat without a word.
The driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror. “Airport?”
Izzy nodded. “Yeah. Airport.”
As the car pulled away, she kept her eyes forward, willing herself not to look back.
She wasn’t running. She was just leaving before it got worse.
Before she let herself hope for something that was never going to happen.