Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
Izzy
The air was warm with the lingering heat of the day as Izzy and Kiera walked side by side along the path encircling Sloan’s Lake. The sky stretched out in front of them — deep oranges melting into dusky pinks, fading into the quiet glow of twilight. They walked slowly, their arms occasionally brushing, each touch easy, unspoken.
Izzy glanced over at Kiera, who was staring out at the horizon with a small, thoughtful smile on her face. The last bit of sunlight caught in the loose waves of her hair, and Izzy had the absurd thought that she wished she could take a picture, just to remember the moment
“This is nice,” Kiera said, looking over at her, voice quiet but certain. “I’m glad this is our re-do and not something weird like staring at each other across a tablecloth.”
Izzy smiled. “Yeah,” she admitted. “I like our goo phase.”
Kiera laughed. “What the hell is a goo phase?”
Izzy shook her head, but she didn’t stop smiling. “Okay, so when caterpillars go into their little chrysalis to turn into a butterfly, they don’t just sprout wings. They literally turn into a liquidy, soupy substance, and that metamorphoses into the butterfly. This is our goo phase. You know. As us.”
“Goo,” Kiera said, nodding. “The goo phase of metamorphosis. I like that. You know, you’re adorably nerdy when you’re spouting off random animal facts.” She teased, bumping her shoulder against Izzy’s. “It’s very cute.”
They walked on in silence, stepping out of the way for joggers, kids on bikes, and people speedwalking their dogs. Izzy kept glancing over toward Kiera, trying to find the right opening.
“I’ve been thinking about the mentorship program at Second Star,” she said finally, voice more casual than she felt. “It’s grown fast. I kind of built the framework on instinct and vibes — and a few too many Google Docs — but now it’s real. There are expectations. Actual structure. And I want it to be more than just... throwing cool adults at overwhelmed teens.”
Kiera smiled. “Cool adults are a good start.”
“Sure,” Izzy said. “But I need someone who knows how to turn all this potential into something sustainable. You know education — how kids learn, how to meet them where they are. You know how to scaffold things, and evaluate progress, and—” She broke off, realizing she was rambling. “Basically, I trust you to help make this more than a pretty idea.”
Kiera was quiet for a beat, processing. “You already have the heart of it, Izzy. You know what these kids need. I just speak fluent ‘lesson plan.’”
“Exactly.” Izzy looked at her fully now. “That’s why I’m asking. I don’t want a consultant. I want you . I want your opinion. Your ideas. Your voice on this.”
Another pause — longer this time — then Kiera nodded, that small, thoughtful frown she always made when she was weighing something she cared about.
“Okay,” she said softly. “I’d love to help you in any way I can.”
And Izzy smiled, because it felt like more than just a yes. She wanted to say something — something teasing, something flirty and suggestive — but then her phone buzzed in her pocket. Maggie’s name lit up her screen with a call coming through.
“Should we tell her we’re on a date?” Kiera said, grinning mischievously.
“Only if you’re ready for the meddling,” Izzy said.
“Pete and Danica are already bad enough. What’s one more?” Kiera quipped.
Izzy grinned, swiping to answer. “Well, hello there.” She held the phone up to Kiera in case she wanted to chime in, then continued. “Maggie, you have excellent timing. We have to tell you something scandalous.”
But instead of the playful retort she expected, there was nothing. Just a shaky inhale, a wobbling, gasping breath.
Izzy’s stomach turned cold. “Mags?”
Then Maggie sobbed. A sound so raw, so devastating, that it made Izzy’s knees feel weak.
Kiera’s smile vanished in an instant. “Maggie?” she asked softly, stepping closer.
Izzy’s heart was already racing. “Maggie, what’s wrong? What happened?”
Another breath, another choked, unsteady exhale.
“My mom,” Maggie finally whispered, her words sounding strangled. “My mom… a heart attack.”
Izzy’s throat tightened, and she didn’t know how, but she knew . The words weren’t there yet, but they didn’t have to be. “What do you mean? Is she in the hospital?”
“She came over for dinner, and then I walked back in from the kitchen, and she was gone. Just like that. The paramedics just left like an hour ago, and I… I don’t know what to do.”
“Oh, Maggie,” Izzy breathed.
Maggie let out another broken sound.
Kiera’s hand lay gently on her shoulder, grounding her. Izzy squeezed her eyes shut, inhaled through her nose, then forced the words out. “Is Gwen there? Do you want me to come?”
Maggie didn’t answer — just cried, and Izzy could hear the devastation in it, the bottomless grief, the way her whole world had just turned upside down. It reminded her of when Maggie had called after her pregnancy termination. How Izzy had helped just by being there to do whatever Maggie and Gwen needed, taking care of the kids, helping her two friends through one of the worst traumas of their lives.
Kiera had her phone out, texting someone. She turned her phone toward Izzy and showed her Gwen’s response. She was in Lisbon and trying to get a flight, but even hopping a flight immediately, she couldn’t make it back until tomorrow afternoon. Kiera met Izzy’s gaze and nodded, encouraging.
“Okay, Mags, I’ll be there soon,” Izzy said, as steady as she could.
“Okay,” Maggie said, her voice small.
Izzy swallowed past the lump in her throat, forcing herself into action. She immediately opened the airline app, her hands shaking so badly she could barely type.
“God, poor Maggie. Are you seriously going to fly out there tonight?” Kiera asked, her voice gentle.
“I have to.” Izzy was already moving, already turning back toward the parking lot.
Kiera was right beside her, matching her frantic pace. “Okay, I get it, especially with Gwen overseas. I’ll drive you home, help you pack?—”
“I’m… I think I’m just going to go straight to the airport.” Izzy was already looking at flight options while she walked, looking for the soonest possible departure. She blinked back tears as her hands shook.
Kiera stopped them both in their tracks, reaching out, her hands gripping Izzy’s shoulders. “Izzy. Breathe. ”
Izzy sucked in a sharp breath, trying to keep it together, but her whole body was vibrating with worry, with grief that wasn’t even hers but felt like it might swallow her whole. She looked up at Kiera, who reached to wrap her in a tight hug. Izzy let herself be held tightly, taking slow, deep breaths against Kiera’s soft T-shirt.
“Hey, I’m here to help however I can,” Kiera said in a hushed, gentle tone.
When Izzy was ready, she leaned back and looked up to Kiera, who was watching her with a steady gaze. “Can you drive?”
Kiera nodded, no hint of uncertainty. “Okay. I’ll drive you to the airport, and then I’ll drive your car to my parent’s place.”
Izzy wrapped her arms around Kiera and gave her another tight hug. “Thank you.”
It was late by the time Izzy pulled up in front of Maggie’s house. The porch light was on, casting long shadows across the lawn, but the house was oppressively still and dark — like it was holding its breath.
Izzy sat for a moment in the silence of her car, hands gripping the steering wheel until her knuckles ached. She had barely slept on the flight. Couldn’t eat. Every part of her body was heavy with exhaustion, but her mind wouldn’t stop racing, grasping at the edges of every memory she had of Maggie’s mom — her easy laugh, the way she always made Izzy feel welcome, like she was family.
The weight of it hit her all over again. Maggie’s mom is gone.
Izzy swallowed hard and climbed out of the car. Her feet carried her to the front door on instinct, and she punched in the security code — still the same as it had been the last time she was here, when Maggie needed her after the pregnancy loss. That moment had felt like the end of the world. This felt worse.
She didn’t bother knocking. The lock clicked open, and she stepped inside.
The house was dark except for a single lamp glowing dimly in the living room, casting long shadows against the walls. It smelled faintly of lavender and something burnt — maybe an untouched meal left too long in the oven.
Maggie sat curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. Her eyes were swollen and red, her face blotchy with the evidence of hours of crying. And clutched tightly in her hands was a photo frame. Izzy didn’t need to see the picture to know it was of her mom.
Maggie crumpled like paper folding in on itself as soon as she looked up at Izzy. Her breath hitched and then came the sound Izzy had been dreading — the kind of sob that shattered everything in its wake.
Izzy didn’t think. She just moved.
She crossed the room in seconds, dropping to her knees in front of Maggie and pulling her in close. Maggie collapsed into her arms, shaking so hard it seemed like she might break apart. The photo frame clattered to the floor, as she clung to Izzy with every ounce of strength she had left.
“Fuck,” Maggie choked out, her voice raw and barely audible. “She’s gone. She’s really gone.”
“I’m so sorry,” Izzy whispered, running her hand gently over Maggie’s hair, pressing her cheek against the top of her head. “I’m here. You’re not alone. I’m not going anywhere.”
Maggie’s sobs came harder, wrenching through her like something primal — like grief was clawing its way out of her. Every breath was ragged, every cry a reminder of what had been lost.
Izzy held her tighter, whispering soft, useless comforts. “You’re not alone. I promise. I’m right here.”
There were no words that could make this better. No comfort deep enough to patch the hole left behind by losing someone who had been integral in Maggie’s world. This wasn’t the kind of pain that could be fixed — it could only be endured.
So Izzy stayed there, on the floor of the dim living room, holding her friend as she broke apart. And when the sobs slowed, tapering into soft, hiccupping breaths, Izzy didn’t let go.