Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
Kiera
Izzy and Kiera sat side by side at a picnic table tucked into the back patio of a coffee shop just off South Congress, the afternoon light keeping everything just a little on the warm side of comfortable. Izzy’s iced matcha was sweating into a ring on the wood; Kiera’s black coffee had already gone lukewarm.
They’d stolen a moment while Maggie still had plenty of family around the day after the funeral. Danica and Pete had left that morning, a whirlwind of a trip before Danica’s next 36-hour shift started that evening.
A legal pad sat between them, half-filled with Izzy’s looping handwriting and a smattering of post-its that Kiera had meticulously color-coded by theme.
Kiera liked the quiet buzz of the place — the low hum of conversation, the faint clink of dishes behind the counter. But mostly, she liked sitting here with Izzy, completely unhurried. It reminded her of the staff lounges she used to hide in between classes — except this time, someone actually wanted her opinion.
Izzy tapped her pen against her mouth, staring at the page. “So we’ve got guest speakers, resume workshops, and mock interviews. That’s solid. But it still feels a little... flat. We need something with more impact.”
Kiera glanced at the notes. “What about a science module?” she offered. “Something hands-on — a mini STEM challenge that builds over a few weeks. They’d get collaboration, time management, trial and error — it sneaks the life skills in without making it feel like school.”
Izzy turned to her, eyes bright. “See? This is exactly why I asked you. You know how to make this make sense to kids. I’ve got the dream, but you’ve got the structure.”
Kiera’s face warmed, and she looked down at the pad. “I can definitely do structure.”
“And I know these kids,” Izzy went on, her voice softening. “I don’t want to throw a generic playbook at them. I want to make something real — and I want your help to do it right.”
Kiera looked over at her, surprised by the sincerity in Izzy’s voice. “I want that too. Honestly, it feels good to be useful again.”
Izzy smiled and scribbled STEM Project Arc onto the pad. “You are. In, like, a wildly impressive way.”
Kiera let out a quiet laugh. “You’re the big-picture thinker. I just know how to build the scaffolding to hold it up.”
Izzy leaned her elbow on the table and bumped Kiera’s shoulder. “Scaffolding is underrated. Let’s build something that holds.”
They bent back over the notes, arms brushing occasionally as they worked, both of them leaning in without realizing it. Kiera didn’t say what she was thinking — that this, all of it, felt like more than just curriculum planning. It felt like momentum. Like belonging.
Like maybe this was the beginning of something neither of them had words for yet.
Silence filled the house. Not just the absence of voices, but the kind of deep, settling quiet that only came after days of relentless noise — hushed conversations, dishes being washed, and children laughing. Now, with most of the guests gone and the rest asleep, the heavy weight of grief settled back over the space.
Kiera moved carefully through the dim hallway, her socks barely making a sound against the hardwood floor. The guest room door was slightly ajar, just enough for her to see the faint glow of a bedside lamp and the rise and fall of Izzy’s breathing beneath the blankets.
She should go back to her own room. She knew that. But she hesitated, lingering in the doorway, her fingers wrapping around the edge of the frame.
Tomorrow, she’d be leaving, and she didn’t know when she’d see Izzy next.
Taking a quiet breath, she slipped inside, shutting the door softly behind her. Izzy was lying on her side, her back to the door, one arm tucked under her pillow. The blanket had slipped down slightly, exposing the line of her shoulder, the soft curve of her back.
“You okay?” Izzy asked. Her voice was thick with exhaustion, but there was no surprise in her tone. Like she had expected this, or needed the company, too.
“Yeah, just… couldn’t turn my brain off,” Kiera admitted.
Izzy reached and pulled the covers aside, inviting her into the bed.
Kiera hesitated for only a moment before slipping into the bed behind her, careful not to jostle Izzy too much.
For a moment, there was only silence between them. The steady tick of the clock on the nightstand. The distant creak of the house settling. Kiera exhaled, slow and deliberate, before inching just a little closer, letting her arm drape lightly around Izzy’s waist. A small ask. A quiet permission.
Izzy didn’t pull away. Instead, she shifted just enough to fit against Kiera more fully, her back to Kiera’s chest, their ankles entwined.
The way they fit together felt... easy. Right.
Kiera closed her eyes, feeling the steady rhythm of Izzy’s breathing beneath her palm, the way their bodies naturally aligned. It wasn’t like the hesitant, fleeting touches they had shared before — brushes of hands, quick embraces, lingering glances. This was something quieter, something steadier. Something she wasn’t quite ready to name but wasn’t willing to let go of either.
She wasn’t sure how long they lay like that, just breathing, just existing together.
Then, softly, Izzy murmured, “You leave tomorrow.”
Kiera nodded against the pillow. “Yeah.”
Izzy was quiet for a long moment, her fingers resting lightly over Kiera’s hand where it lay on her waist. When she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m gonna miss you.”
Kiera’s heart squeezed at the admission, simple as it was. She could feel the truth of it in the way Izzy’s grip tightened, just slightly, like she didn’t want to let her go.
“Me too,” Kiera admitted, her voice just as quiet. Maybe even quieter.
She had spent the past few days watching Izzy — watching the way she had taken care of Maggie, the way she had held everything together even when no one asked her to. She and Izzy had cleaned the house, taken the kids to the local playground to get out their energy, and spent most evenings sitting out on Maggie’s back patio, drinking iced tea and beer and relaxing with one another in mostly exhausted silence. They hadn’t had any time for intimacy past a stolen hand squeeze or lingering look. And now, lying there, pressed close in the stillness, Kiera realized how much she didn’t want to leave Izzy’s side.
Her voice was hesitant when she finally asked, “Are you heading back to San Francisco after this?”
Izzy tensed slightly, just for a second, before she let out a slow breath. “I don’t know yet.”
Kiera frowned, lifting her head to look at her. “You don’t know?”
Izzy’s thumb traced a small, absent-minded circle against the back of Kiera’s hand. “I’ve been thinking… maybe it’s time for something new.”
Kiera’s pulse jumped, though she tried not to let it show. “Something new?” she echoed carefully.
Izzy let out a small, quiet laugh, turning slightly so their faces were closer. “Yeah. A change of scenery. I’ve been thinking about Denver.”
Kiera stilled in surprise, trying not to overreact. She tried — really tried — to keep her body language neutral, to not let the words sink too deep before they were real. But the thought of Izzy in Denver, of her not leaving, of this — whatever this was — not ending before it even really began, sent a warmth through her that she hadn’t felt in a long time.
She should be careful. She should temper her expectations. Izzy moving to Denver didn’t even necessarily mean they were going to date. But instead, she found herself smiling.
“You’re thinking of moving?” she asked, her voice softer now.
Izzy turned in Kiera’s arms until they were facing each other, her eyes searching Kiera’s face in the dark like she was looking for an answer before she even asked the question. “Would you hate that?”
Kiera barely hesitated before shaking her head. “No,” she whispered. “I wouldn’t hate that at all.”
Izzy’s lips twitched, like she was holding back a smile of her own. And Kiera, lying there, heart beating too fast, realized she had already lost the battle with herself.
For the first time in a long time, she wanted something. Really wanted it. That terrified her, but it didn’t stop her from pulling Izzy just a little bit closer.
“Can I sleep in here tonight? Nothing… you know, just sleep,” Kiera asked.
Izzy didn’t answer right away. Instead, she studied Kiera, her gaze flickering over her face like she was committing every detail to memory. Then, slowly, deliberately, she reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair from Kiera’s cheek. Her hand stayed, her thumb tracing over Kiera’s cheekbone.
“Yeah,” Izzy murmured. “Just sleep.”
But she didn’t move away. Didn’t shift back into the pillow or turn away to settle in. Instead, she lingered, her fingers still resting against Kiera’s cheek, her breath warm between them.
Kiera felt her pulse hammer in her throat, felt the slow, inevitable pull of gravity drawing them together. She knew that this was new and delicate and terrifying in ways she hadn’t let herself think about yet. But none of that seemed to matter when Izzy was looking at her like this, like she was already halfway gone.
She wasn’t sure who leaned in first, only that it was pure instinct. When their mouths met, the kiss wasn’t rushed, wasn’t desperate. It was slow, confident — they didn’t need to rush anything right now, as if the outside world no longer existed and every worry of tomorrow had faded. The kiss was a promise of more to come. Izzy’s lips were tender and gentle, and Kiera found herself gripping the fabric of Izzy’s shirt, holding on like she was afraid of what would happen if she let go. The kiss deepened, just slightly, just enough for Kiera to feel the warmth spread from her chest downwards. Their bodies moved together, their hips moving slowly, carefully, like they were testing the waters.
When they finally pulled back, neither of them moved far. Izzy’s forehead rested against Kiera’s, the moment stretching between them.
A noise startled them both and they stilled, listening. Music. Gentle guitar, then Michael Stipe’s crooning. Kiera turned her head, her brow crinkling. “Is that what I think it is?”
Izzy grimaced. “Yeah, it’s… REM’s “Everybody Hurts” coming from Maggie’s room. She’s lucky those kids sleep deeply.”
“Should we go check on her?” Kiera asked, though neither moved.
“Let’s give Gwen a chance to take that one on. We’re a little busy,” Izzy said. She shifted her thigh away from Kiera’s legs. “Though, to be honest, I don’t want to have sex with you for the first time in the guest bedroom of our grieving friend’s home.”
Kiera’s eyes widened. “Okay, when you put it like that… I agree.”
Izzy bit her lip. “I know you’ve never had sex with a woman, and I want your first time to be… good, you know?”
Kiera raised an eyebrow. “What, you’re like on the welcoming committee or something?”
“No, not like that.” Izzy blinked in surprise.
Kiera leaned forward to kiss Izzy’s lower lip. “I’m joking. I don’t think there’s any way it’s possible for us to not have incredible sex, but yeah, this is… not the place for that.”
Izzy visibly relaxed.
“Are you, um, worried about the fact that I’ve never… you know, had sex with a woman?” Kiera hedged, watching Izzy carefully.
“Are you worried about that?” Izzy asked.
“You can’t answer a question with a question,” Kiera said.
Izzy rubbed at the back of her neck. “It does freak me out a little, you know? I don’t want you to be disappointed.”
“Izzy,” Kiera breathed. “I think that’s honestly impossible at this point.” She leaned in again, and just as their lips brushed, REM’s ‘Everybody Hurts’ started anew.
“I can’t believe we’re being cockblocked by 90’s alt rock right now,” Izzy grumbled.
“Do you remember that kiss in college?” Kiera asked.
Izzy scoffed. “Of course I do.”
Kiera raised a brow. “Why do you say it like that?”
“Because I’ve thought about that kiss… a lot,” Izzy confessed.
Kiera’s stomach clenched with excitement and nerves. She ran a hand affectionately through Izzy’s hair, playing with the short strands. “Oh, really?”
“Mostly I’ve thought, how did we wait so long to do it again?” Izzy said, her voice dropping lower.
Kiera squeezed her eyes shut in the darkness, needing the extra illusion of privacy. “I wish I’d been braver back then,” she whispered. “I wish I’d just been honest with how attracted I was to you.”
“I thought I was just some experiment,” Izzy said.
Kiera traced the shell of Izzy’s ear with her thumb. “I’m sorry I ever made you feel that way. That’s not fair of me. I was just a coward.”
“I think you’re one of the strongest, bravest women I’ve ever met,” Izzy said, so quiet it was barely audible.
Tears pricked at the edges of Kiera’s eyes. “That might be the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“I mean it,” Izzy insisted.
“Well, thank you.” Kiera leaned forward and smiled against Izzy’s lips. “Everybody Hurts” hit volume 11, absolutely blasting for a moment, before abruptly turning off. Suddenly, they could hear Gwen say, “Hey baby…” as the primary bedroom door shut.
“Okay, I think it’s a sign,” Izzy murmured, her lips curving into a smile so small Kiera barely caught it. “ Now just sleep.”
Kiera’s shoulder shook in quiet laugh, and she leaned to press one last lingering kiss to Izzy’s jawline, then waited for Izzy to flip back over and be her little spoon. She held Izzy tight, grateful to have someone so open and honest with her on this strange and thrilling new adventure.
The plane ride back to Denver felt like floating in limbo — neither here nor there, just suspended in the air with nothing but her thoughts to keep Kiera company. It was a reminder of how the world didn’t stop for grief, how life around her spun on as if nothing had changed. The hum of the engines was a poor distraction from the pit in her stomach. Leaving Austin felt wrong, like she was abandoning Maggie during one of the worst moments of her life. But Izzy had insisted she go home, and Maggie… Maggie had whispered, voice raw and quiet, "I’ll be okay. You need to be with your girls."
She didn’t seem okay. Of course she didn’t seem okay —how could she?
When the plane landed and she turned her phone back on, an email notification popped up. She swiped it open, ready to face yet another rejection, but the subject line surprised her. There, in capital letters: OFFER. She stared down at the email, skimming the details. Teaching position. Offer. …Lincoln, Nebraska.
That last detail hit her like a punch to the gut. Lincoln. So close to Omaha, where Alex was. The girls could be close enough to see their dad. Her teaching license wouldn’t have to change…
She swiped open her spreadsheet, trying to remember even applying to this job. She scrolled down the column of application dates, finding that she’d applied to this nearly four months ago, right around Christmas. She must have been feeling mighty desperate. Still, it seemed the desperation was going both ways if they were extending an offer without meeting her.
She walked through the airport in a daze, nearly getting on the wrong train in all of her distraction. Nebraska. Did she really want to go back? A job was a job… but she finally felt settled here. And a small part of her instantly felt disappointment at the thought of Izzy moving to Denver just as she was moving away. That would pretty much close the door on their future, wouldn’t it?
Her parents were waiting at the Passenger Pickup curb, their expressions a blend of relief and concern. Her daughters, bundled in oversized jackets despite the mild spring day, were the first to spot her. Eliza broke free from her grandmother’s grasp and sprinted toward Kiera with reckless abandon. “Mommy!”
Kiera crouched down just in time for both girls to crash into her arms. The sheer relief of holding them, feeling their small bodies against her chest, made her want to cry. “I missed you both so much,” she whispered into their hair, clinging to them as if she could anchor herself there. "Did you have a nice time with Grandma and Grandpa?"
"Chicken Nugget Dinosaur Monster Truck Rocketship missed you," Quinn admitted.
"Dinosaur Monster Truck?" Kiera asked. “This lady is really racking up the names.”
Quinn’s brow furrowed the same way when Kiera was making a very important point. “She’s very important, Mama.”
“Should we add Her Highness to the beginning of her name, then?” Kiera asked, nuzzling her face against Quinn’s cheek.
“That’s a great idea!” Quinn said with excitement.
Back home, everything felt painfully normal. The incense from her mom’s latest cleansing ritual swirled faintly in the air, and her dad was already preparing an early dinner, humming an off-key tune under his breath. The familiarity should have been a comfort, but it gnawed at her instead, highlighting just how much she felt like she didn’t belong anywhere at the moment.
Kiera settled at the kitchen table, her girls beside her, their chatter filling the space with life. They told her about their days, about Quinn’s daring leap off the back of the couch into the pillow fort they’d built, and Eliza’s latest drawing obsession — chickens, naturally. Yet, beneath it all, a heavy guilt simmered — guilt for leaving Maggie, for feeling relieved to be home, for wanting something as simple as peace.
Kiera sat at the edge of her bed, staring at her computer screen. The house was quiet except for the distant clinking noise of the dishwasher running in the kitchen. The weight of exhaustion pulled at her bones, but sleep felt impossible. Her mind was racing, thinking about the offer, about moving back to Nebraska, about leaving her parents and her friends and… Izzy. She’d been tossing and turning for over an hour when she’d just given up and opened her laptop to watch New Girl episodes. Again.
Her phone lit up from the bedside table.
Izzy
Did you make it home okay?
Kiera
I did. Her Highness Chicken Nugget Dinosaur Monster Truck Rocketship was very happy to see me.
Izzy
Was she really?
Kiera
No, she’s a chicken.
Izzy
Correction: She’s chicken royalty.
Kiera
I’m not convinced they feel emotion.
Izzy
I’m pretty sure I’ve seen an enraged chicken before.
Kiera
A valid point. How’s Maggie?
Izzy
Well, she showered today.
Kiera
That’s a start! How’s Gwen?
Izzy
I’m pretty sure she slept on the couch in the family room downstairs?
Kiera
I wish I could be there for both of them. And you.
Izzy
Me too. I wish you were still here.
A soft flutter sparked in Kiera’s chest, a hopeful, terrifying little beat she wasn’t ready for but couldn’t ignore. She stared at the message longer than she should have, her fingertips hovering above the screen, trying to decide if she should respond. Instead, she set the phone down and curled into her blanket, pulling it tight around her shoulders.
The connection was still there — palpable and undeniable, hiding beneath the surface of everything left unsaid.
As she stared up at the ceiling, the memories of Austin pressed in — the loss, the heartbreak, the tenderness of holding Izzy in her arms. Despite the sorrow, it wasn’t Maggie’s pain that lingered in her mind. It was Izzy’s voice from last night, soft and hesitant: "I’ll miss you."
She should tell Izzy about her job offer. Well, maybe first she should figure out what she was going to do about the job offer. She knew she shouldn’t let the idea of what might happen with Izzy hold her back from providing for her family, but she couldn’t help but shake the feeling that going back to Nebraska was just that — a step backwards.
She picked her phone back up and typed a reply before she could overthink it.
Kiera
I wish you were here, too.
The pole studio smelled faintly of coconut and old wood, the mood light with the sound of pop music pulsing through the speakers. The polished floors gleamed under the glow of the overhead lights, and the scattered mirrors lining the walls reflected flashes of bodies in motion — women of all shapes and sizes spinning, climbing, moving with a kind of confidence Kiera still wasn’t sure she could possess.
She stood near the back of the room, clutching the metal pole in front of her like a life raft, its cool surface grounding her in the moment. Her palms were already slick with sweat, though she’d been coming to class for a couple of weeks now.
She exhaled slowly, rolling out her shoulders and flexing her fingers, trying to shake the tension from her body. But her nerves weren’t just about the class, not really. She had spent too long feeling like she was waiting for something. Now, she had Izzy’s affection and a job offer and it felt like all the right pieces were falling into the wrong places.
The instructor’s voice cut through her melancholy. “Remember, this is for you. There’s no wrong way to move your body here.”
Kiera nodded and swallowed, adjusting her grip. She let herself lean into the spin, pushing off the floor, the pole guiding her into a graceful, slow twirl. The first moment of flight always took her by surprise — how her body moved without her overthinking every step and gravity let her go, just for a second. The rush of momentum brought a brief flicker of freedom, and for a moment, she wasn’t a single, unemployed mom, or testing the waters of a new relationship, or a woman stuck between who she’d been and who she wanted to be.
Here, she was just Kiera.
She liked that.
She liked the version of herself that existed in this room — this Kiera didn’t hesitate, didn’t shrink herself down to fit into spaces she had outgrown. She wasn’t constantly trying to balance being a good mother, a good daughter, a good ex-wife, a good everything. Here, she wasn’t responsible for anyone but herself.
She finished the spin, landing lightly on her toes, heart hammering from a combination of nerves and exertion. For the first time since she had started coming here, she didn’t feel awkward or out of place. She felt… present. Strong. Capable. Brave.
By the end of class, her muscles burned and her heart pounded — not just from the effort, but from something quieter settling underneath it all. As her breath slowed and her body stretched into stillness, a different kind of release took hold. Not adrenaline, but understanding.
I don’t want to keep living out of fear.
She stood in front of the mirror, running a towel over the sweat glistening along her collarbone. She’d spent years making choices that made sense on paper — safe, sturdy, selfless. Always what was best for everyone else. But somewhere along the way, she’d stopped asking what she wanted. Now, when she looked at her own reflection, all she saw was someone trying to understand the person she’d become — and what it meant that Izzy had started to feel like something she couldn’t ignore.
Kiera had spent years making careful, measured choices — doing what was best for the people around her, always putting their needs first and pushing her own to the side. And what had it gotten her? A life half-lived. A marriage that had unraveled long before it officially ended. A version of herself she barely recognized.
But this? Showing up for herself? Making the choice to pursue things with Izzy. Moving her body in ways that terrified but thrilled her. It didn’t feel like fear. It felt like power. Like agency. Like she was finally getting a handle on exactly who she’d always been too afraid to be.
As she packed up her things and slipped on her sneakers, a thought unfurled in the back of her mind, one that she couldn’t stifle back down. What if she let herself want Izzy — fully, unapologetically, without bracing for the fallout? What if, for once, she didn’t overthink it or talk herself out of it, and just reached for the thing that made her feel alive?
Her fingers hovered over her phone as she walked to her car.
She could wait to tell Izzy about the offer. She could overthink it like she always did. She could keep telling herself that slow and careful was the only way to do this.
Or she could be brave. She could tell Izzy about the job offer before it loomed over every conversation.
She exhaled, pulse still thrumming from class, from clarity, from possibility. Then, before she could talk herself out of it, she unlocked her phone and hit call.
Izzy picked up on the second ring. “Hey,” she said.
Kiera could hear Maggie’s kids laughing in the background. She smiled to herself, climbing into her car. “Hey, I was just leaving pole class and was thinking about you.”
“Oh? Thinking about me during pole dancing sounds like something I’d like many, many more details about. Does this mean I get a seat in the audience for future performances?” Izzy asked.
Kiera snorted in amusement. “Keep playing your cards right.”
Izzy laughed. “Other than class, how was your day?”
Kiera sank back into the driver’s seat, her hands motionless on the steering wheel, not quite ready to turn the ignition. The silence of the parked car felt loud, too full of the thing she hadn’t said yet. “Good, actually. Um, I wanted to tell you something.”
“Sure, what’s up?” Izzy’s tone was light, casual — unprepared.
Kiera stared straight ahead, the streetlamp outside casting soft shadows across the dash. “I got a job offer,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
“That’s huge!” Izzy’s voice brightened instantly, warm and effortless, a genuine smile tucked between the words. “How are you feeling about it?”
“In Lincoln, Nebraska,” Kiera added, her thumb dragging along the ridge of the steering wheel like she could smooth out the tension building in her chest. She couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t breathe too deep. The moment felt fragile, like one wrong move might collapse it.
There was a pause. Then, softer: “Oh.”
And just like that, the air shifted — not cold, but quieter. Heavier. Kiera didn’t know what she wanted Izzy to say. Only that she already missed whatever ease they’d had a second ago. “Yeah.”
“I mean, that’s still awesome. I didn’t even know you were considering going back.”
“With all of the licensing issues, I applied like a random shot in the dark months ago. I didn’t expect to hear back, but it’s a sister district to where I taught before,” Kiera explained, hating that she felt like she had to explain herself about this.
“I’m happy for you. I know it’s been stressing you out,” Izzy said.
And goddammit, she sounded so genuine, like she was happy for Kiera.
“I don’t know if I’m going to take it yet,” Kiera admitted.
“If you do, I support you completely,” Izzy said.
The words hit deeper than Kiera expected. Her throat tightened, but she didn’t let the silence stretch too long. “Thank you. That really does mean a lot.” She cleared her throat, shifting in the seat. “And you? How’s Maggie doing?”
Izzy let out a shaky sigh. “It’s not easy, but I think she’s doing a little better every day.”
“And you? Are you okay?”
Another pause. “It’s still heavy here, and there’s still a lot to figure out,” Izzy admitted quietly. “But hearing your voice helps.”
Something twisted low in Kiera’s ribs. “Yours, too.”
A high-pitched wail broke through the uncomfortable quiet on the line, and then Izzy cursed under her breath. “Um, Rosie just took a header. Can we talk later?”
“Of course,” Kiera said. “Give Rosie a kiss for her owwie. Those always help.”
Izzy agreed, and as they hung up, Kiera was left with a strange mix of emotions — guilt still coiled low in her stomach, but also something like relief. Kiera stared at her phone for a moment, the sound of Izzy’s voice still echoing softly in her head. She exhaled and pressed the phone to her chest, letting the quiet fill the room around her. Everything still felt fragile, still unsettled, but Izzy hadn’t immediately pulled away. Maybe if she took this job, they could still figure things out between them. it felt like a small anchor in the middle of all the unknowns.