Chapter 25
CHAPTER 25
Kiera
Kiera stepped out of the middle school and into the mid-May afternoon warmth, the door swinging shut behind her with a quiet click. Her heart was still thudding from the interview — not because it had gone badly, but because it hadn’t. The principal had been kind, engaged. The questions had felt like real conversations. For the first time in what felt like forever, Kiera had walked into a school and imagined herself there — standing in front of a classroom, her girls just a few blocks away, the rhythm of a life she could actually see unfolding.
And that scared the hell out of her.
She crossed the parking lot slowly, keys in hand but not unlocking the car just yet. It would be so easy to want this too much. To picture school supplies stacked in the front hallway. To imagine her girls growing up with the same neighborhood routes, the same familiar routines. Even without Izzy in the picture, it felt possible. It felt steady. Real.
But then came the flickers of doubt, just behind the hope. What if she got the offer and Izzy didn’t want this after all? What if Izzy said she was ready for the chaos — for the girls, the co-parenting schedules, the stress — but then realized it was too much?
And what if she wasn’t ready? What if this whole thing with Izzy was just a moment, a break in the current before everything returned to normal? Kiera had been the one to put on the brakes before. Could she trust herself to say yes now, even if every piece of her still felt mid-recovery?
Izzy had said she loved her. And Kiera had heard it — really heard it. But she'd stayed silent, not out of doubt, exactly, but out of fear. Because what if she said it back and then took a job somewhere else? What if she made the wrong choice again, for herself and everyone else?
The truth was, she didn’t want to go back to Nebraska. Not really. But staying meant choosing uncertainty — professionally, emotionally, in every way. She would be asking Izzy to mean what she said. To show up. To share a life that wasn’t always convenient or easy.
She would have to show up, too.
She opened the car door and sat for a long moment before starting the ignition, the buzz of the cicadas filling the silence around her. Maybe she wasn’t ready to say everything out loud yet. But she was here. She was still trying.
For now, being honest with herself — even quietly — would have to count for something.
The girls’ squeals of delight from the backseat made Kiera smile as she parked the car in front of her parents’ house, the full moon casting silver light across the yard. The girls were nearly vibrating with excitement in the back seat, clutching their overnight bags with gleaming anticipation. They’d been begging to stay with Grandma and Grandpa again, even though it had only been two days since they’d seen one another. As soon as the car stopped, they scrambled out, racing toward the coop with excited shrieks. Hard to compete with the flock.
Kiera watched them before stepping out, stretching her sore muscles from the long day. Not just physical, but a profound exhaustion settled in; the weight of unsaid things, unfinished matters, heavy on her soul.
Her parents were in the yard, standing barefoot in the damp grass, arms stretched skyward, their crystals glinting in the moonlight.
Kiera exhaled sharply. “Mom, Dad… what are you doing?”
“We’re blessing the chickens and ducks!” her mom said brightly, shaking a small brass bell with sharp, purposeful movements. “The moonlight helps them lay healthier eggs. Tonya says it’s all about energy alignment.”
Kiera groaned, shaking her head. “Of course it is.”
Eliza and Quinn were already at the coop, showering Chiquitita, Her Highness, and all of their feathered friends with adoration. The girls were so lucky to have this connection to their eccentric grandparents, and Kiera felt a small wave of relief and comfort knowing she had such a phenomenal support system.
She kissed them both goodnight, promising to call in the morning. Then, as she walked back to the car, a knot formed in her chest, thinking about how Maggie didn’t have the same kind of support. Well, she could be that for her friend, then, the same as Izzy had. Her hands gripped the wheel, but she didn’t start the engine.
Instead, she pulled out her phone. She hesitated for only a second before calling Maggie. It’d been almost a month now since Maggie’s mom had died, and she still sometimes wondered if calling randomly was intrusive or helpful.
Maggie picked up quickly. “Well hello, Kiera,” Maggie’s voice no longer held the raw strain she’d been used to over the past few weeks.
“Well hello, gorgeous. Just checking in. How are you?”
“Better, actually,” Maggie said. “I’m doing okay today. My therapist said we can go down to just one session a week now.”
“Look at you, winning therapy,” A quiet smile tugged at Kiera’s lips.
Maggie snorted. “Yeah, well, apparently she wouldn’t agree to give me a trophy for my achievement.”
“I didn’t realize your therapist was such a monster,” Kiera joked.
“Speaking of monsters, is it bad that I’m already fantasizing about a solo vacation? I just want to lie on a beach somewhere in absolute silence.” Maggie sighed wistfully.
“Not bad at all. You deserve all the beaches and quiet and relaxation,” Kiera encouraged.
Maggie took a deep breath. “I might do that. You guys should come down soon for a visit. I could use the distraction. And the wine.”
“Definitely. We’ll plan something.”
Unspoken things filled the heavy pause. Then Maggie sighed. “How’re you and Izzy?”
Kiera drummed her fingers on her steering wheel, still staring at the front of her parent’s garage. “Oh, um. Did she call you?”
“No, I’m just making sure I don’t find everything out via group chat,” Maggie said.
Kiera chewed her bottom lip. “We’re just still taking things slow. I’m not actually sure if she knows what she’s getting into. She… um… She said she loves me.”
Maggie released an exaggerated noise, half-groan, half-sigh. “Oh my god, are you serious?”
“What?”
“Kiera, you’re being a complete idiot.”
Kiera choked. “Uh, thanks.”
“I’m serious.” Maggie’s voice softened slightly, but the exasperation was still there. “She loves you. And you love her. It’s obvious to literally everyone except you two.”
The words landed hard, not because they were surprising, but because Kiera had run out of ways to pretend they weren’t true.
She did love Izzy.
She had been trying to be responsible, to not let herself want too much, to be realistic in what it meant to be with someone like her. But hadn’t that been her problem all along? Hadn’t she spent too much of her life holding back, second-guessing, waiting for the right time?
And all this time, Izzy had been standing there — not walking away, saying the hard thing.
She thought about the night before, curled on the couch — the comfort of Izzy’s arms around her, the unspoken promise in every touch, the way Izzy had been trying to tell her without pushing, without demanding anything in return. She had given Kiera space, had let her set the pace, but she had been there, waiting, willing to take the risk if Kiera just said the words.
And Kiera had frozen, the words caught somewhere between her chest and throat. Not because she didn’t feel them, but because she did — too much, too clearly. Because saying them meant choosing this life fully, with all its chaos and complications. It meant trusting that Izzy wouldn’t change her mind when things got hard. That she wouldn't regret choosing someone with kids, with baggage, with a whole orbit spinning around her.
Kiera had spent years putting everyone else first. She’d made peace with being the stable one, the practical one, the one who didn’t ask for more. But now that more was right in front of her — in Izzy’s touch, her words, her presence — it terrified her to reach for it. What if she wasn’t enough to hold it? What if she broke it just by wanting it too much?
"I think we’re gonna need a bigger boat," Maggie stated, and just as Kiera began to ask her what the hell that meant, a beep followed by the distinct sound of someone else on the line.
“Hello?” Danica’s voice came through. “Oooh, what's going on at 7:43 p.m. on a Friday night?"
Maggie didn’t miss a beat. “Kiera is being an emotionally-stunted dumbass, and she needs a pep talk.”
“Ah,” Danica said, and Kiera could hear the smirk in her voice. “Classic.”
Kiera let out what she hoped translated as a long-suffering sigh. “Oh my god, are you both serious?”
Danica laughed. “Sweetheart, have any of us ever not been serious about meddling in each other’s love lives? This is prime payback.”
“This is not my love life,” Kiera protested. “This is… a situation.”
“Oh? A situation?” Danica repeated. “Tell me, does this situation involve your deep-seated fear of vulnerability? Because that’s the only thing I’m hearing right now.”
Kiera rubbed her temples. “I am not afraid of vulnerability.”
Danica snorted. “Kiera, I’ve seen house plants be more open about their needs than you.”
Maggie hummed in agreement. “That’s true. I mean, even my cactus wilts dramatically when it needs water. Meanwhile, you just shrugged and said, ‘It’s fine’ when you found out Alex was cheating on you.”
“ I did not —” Kiera stopped, exhaling slowly to calm herself. “Can we not?”
Maggie’s voice softened, losing some of its teasing edge. “Kiera. Just tell her.”
Kiera swallowed hard, staring at her reflection in the rearview mirror. “What if she doesn’t know what she’s signing up for? Or what if she just likes the idea, and she’s going to panic once it’s not some chase anymore? Or what if I do take this job in Nebraska?—”
“Ugh,” Danica interrupted. “You cannot be serious right now. You’re not taking that job in Nebraska. You grimaced when you were telling us about it on Facetime.”
“I did not?—”
Danica continued on, unphased by Kiera’s protests. “And about the other nonsense, are you even present in your own relationship?”
“Did Izzy say ‘I love you’?” Maggie asked.
“Yes,” Kiera confessed.
Danica and Maggie let out matching squeals, and Kiera could hear what sounded an awful lot like Pete doing a slow clap in the background.
“Am I on speaker?” Kiera asked.
“Focus,” Danica said. “But yes.”
“Izzy loves you, Kiera,” Pete said, suddenly a participating member of the conversation. “Don’t fuck this up.”
Kiera opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Maggie sighed. “Kiera, what is the absolute worst-case scenario?”
Kiera closed her eyes. “That I tell her how I feel, and it doesn’t work out.”
“And the best-case scenario?” Danica prompted.
Kiera’s stomach flipped. “…That it does.”
But as the memory settled in her chest, one realization hit harder than all the rest: Izzy hadn’t walked away. She hadn’t demanded anything. She had been patient.
Kiera didn’t want to live her life standing on the edge of something that mattered, afraid to leap. She wanted to choose this — all of it. The chaos, the risk of being hurt again. She wanted Izzy. Not someday. Not maybe.
Now.
“Oh my god, I love her, too,” Kiera said aloud.
As that realization sank in for Kiera, the other three people on the line yelled as if they were winning a Championship match.
Danica said, “You’ve got this Kiera. We’re all rooting for you guys.”
Maggie chimed in, “Hey, Kiera?”
“What?”
“If you don’t tell her that you love her within the first five seconds of seeing her, I’m legally allowed to punch you in the arm the next time I see you.”
Kiera shook her head. “That is not how legality works.”
“Agree to disagree” Maggie said cheerfully.
Kiera rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were aching from how big her smile was. “Fine,” Kiera muttered. “I’ll call you all later.”
Kiera could perfectly envision Maggie’s face as her friend said, “Not if we call you first.”
Shaking her head, Kiera hung up the phone, shifting the car into reverse, tires crunching over gravel as she pulled out of the driveway. The image of her parents’ moon ritual disappeared in the rearview mirror.
Her hands trembled as she drove, streetlights passing in a blur. She drove past the turn to the townhouse. She wasn’t going home. She wasn’t going to spend another night wondering what if .
As she hit a red light, she realized she didn’t know where she was going. She cursed under her breath and hit redial.
Maggie answered instantly. “Did you forget to ask where she’s staying?”
Kiera let out a low sigh. “Yes, shut up .”
Maggie laughed, but it was gentle, warm. “She’s at the same hotel as before, room 604.”
“Thanks, Mags.”
“Now, go get the girl, dumbass.”
By the time she pulled up to the hotel, her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her ears. She threw the car into park and stumbled out, barely noticing the valet attendant waiting for her keys.
She rushed into the lobby, not registering the polished wood floors, the soft of jazz playing, the people checking in.
And then, all too quickly, she found herself standing in front of room 604, her breath unsteady.
Kiera knocked, sharp and quick, the sound too loud in the quiet hallway. She waited, but no footsteps came. No voice. Nothing. Her stomach clenched. She knocked again, harder this time, glancing toward the window like she might catch movement behind the curtain.
Still nothing.
Fumbling for her phone, she tapped Izzy’s name and held it to her ear. One ring. Two. Three. Each one wound her tighter. When it clicked to voicemail, her breath caught. Panic surged, wrapping around her chest and tightening like a vice.
The elevator chimed behind her.
Kiera turned, heart slamming against her chest.
Izzy stood there, mid-step, her phone still in her hand, as if she had been about to call Kiera back. Her hair was damp, and she was wearing an oversized sweatshirt. Her eyes locked onto Kiera’s, wide with surprise, and for a moment, neither of them moved.
“Kiera?” Izzy’s voice was hesitant. “I was just calling you back, I was at the gym?—”
Kiera’s exhaled heavily. She had planned — at least, she had tried to plan — what to say. But now, standing there, looking at Izzy, she didn’t need any of it.
“I love you.”
Izzy gasped, lips parting, but Kiera kept going before she could say a word.
“I love you,” Kiera said again, stepping closer. “I should have said it sooner. I should have known sooner, but I was scared. I kept trying to hold back, to be careful; but Izzy, I don’t want to be careful anymore. I don’t want to waste another second pretending that I don’t want this — you — more than I’ve wanted anything in my life.”
Izzy stood frozen for a moment, blinking in surprise. “I love you, too.” Then, she moved. She crossed the space between them in a single breath, hands reaching to hold Kiera’s face, and kissed her.
Kiera gasped, the intensity of the kiss stealing every ounce of air from her lungs. It was desperate, consuming, like they had both been starving for this moment.
Izzy kissed her like she was claiming her, like she had been waiting for this exact second to crash into Kiera and never let go. Now that nothing was left unsaid, neither of them knew how to slow down.
By the time they finally pulled apart, breathless and clinging to each other, Izzy whispered, “You love me?”
“I love you.” Kiera was confident, excited, giddy. She kissed Izzy again, murmuring against her lips. “I love you.”
Izzy smiled against her lips. “I love you, too. And, um, I’m sorry, I’m really sweaty. Can I shower before we do anything else?”
Kiera laughed, pressing her forehead against Izzy’s. “Yeah. But you’re not showering alone.”
Izzy’s hands tightened on her waist. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go.”
Kiera kissed her again as they stumbled into the hotel room together, a tangle of hands and mouths and love. Life might not get simpler, but she wasn’t scared of that anymore. Not with Izzy beside her.