Chapter 15
River Stone
I’m still holding Kiera on my lap, surrounded by Barbie dolls and their scattered accessories, and I can’t quite believe what just happened.
She kissed me.
Kiera Emmerson—guarded, sharp-tongued, walls-up-at-all-times Kiera—just kissed me.
My heart is still racing, my lips still tingling from the contact.
She’s warm in my arms, her fingers still tangled in my hair, and I’m acutely aware of every point where our bodies touch.
The weight of her on my lap. The way she fits against me like she was made to be there.
The floral scent of her shampoo mixing with the lingering smell of the dinner she cooked.
But underneath the overwhelming attraction there’s something deeper. Something that makes my chest feel too full and too tight all at once.
She trusted me. After everything she went through, after being betrayed and used and thrown away by people who should have known better, she trusted me enough to tell me the truth. To let me see her pain. To be vulnerable in a way I know terrifies her.
And then she kissed me.
I reach up and gently caress her cheek, brushing away the last traces of her tears with my thumb. Her skin is soft, warm, slightly damp from crying. She leans into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment.
“Kiera,” I say softly, and her eyes open to meet mine. They’re still bright with tears, but there’s something else there too. Something I can’t quite name. “Are you okay?”
It’s the wrong question maybe, because obviously she’s not okay—she just cried herself out telling me about the worst thing that ever happened to her.
But I need to know if this is okay. If kissing me was something she wanted or something she did because she was vulnerable and hurting and I was there.
She takes a shaky breath, and her hand comes up to twist a strand of her pink-streaked hair around her finger. The nervous habit I’ve learned to recognize. “I don’t know.”
The honesty in those three words makes my heart clench.
“I’m terrified,” she continues, her voice barely above a whisper. She’s still twisting the hair, winding it tighter around her finger. “I’m not sure about anything right now. I just—I acted on impulse. I felt something and I didn’t stop to think about it or talk myself out of it. I just... did it.”
She pauses, looking down at her lap. “But I don’t want to take it back.”
Relief floods through me so powerfully it makes me light-headed. I cup her face in both hands, tilting her chin up so she has to look at me.
“I have feelings for you,” I say, and the words feel huge. Important. “I think you already know that. I think you’ve known for a while now.”
Pink creeps up her cheeks, but she doesn’t look away.
“But I don’t want to push you into anything,” I continue. “There’s no rush here, Kiera. I’m not going anywhere. If you need time, if you need space, if you need to go slow—I can do that. I can do all of that. Because you’re worth waiting for.”
Her eyes fill with tears again, but this time they look different. Softer, somehow. “You mean that?”
“I mean every word.” I stroke my thumbs across her cheekbones. “What happened to you—what that guy did, what your parents did—that wasn’t about you. That was about them. Their cruelty, their selfishness, their complete failure to see what they had right in front of them.”
“River—”
“You’re incredible, Kiera. You’re talented and strong and funny and kind.
You survived something that would have broken most people, and you’re still standing.
Still fighting for your dreams. Still willing to trust again even though it scares you.
” My voice gets rougher. “Anyone who can’t see how amazing you are doesn’t deserve you. ”
She makes this small sound—half laugh, half sob—and then she’s hugging me, wrapping her arms around my neck and burying her face against my shoulder. “This means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me.”
I hold her close, one hand stroking her hair, the other pressed against her back. We stay like that for a long moment, just breathing together, existing in this fragile new space we’ve created.
Eventually she pulls back, wiping at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “We should probably finish cleaning up before Kiki gets here.”
“Yeah.” I reluctantly let her slide off my lap, immediately missing her warmth. “Wouldn’t want her to think we spent the whole evening playing with Barbies.”
That gets a small laugh out of her and warmth blooms in my chest. We kneel on the floor and start gathering up the remaining dolls and accessories, working in comfortable silence.
Every so often, I catch Kiera glancing at me, and when our eyes meet, she quickly looks away. But there’s a small smile playing at her lips, something shy and pleased that makes my heart stutter.
We’ve just finished packing the last of the Barbies into the tub when the doorbell rings.
Kiera stands. “That’s Kiki.”
I head to the front door and open it to find Kiki standing on the porch, looking exhausted but happy. Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun.
“Hey,” she says, smiling. “I’m so sorry it’s late.” She steps inside, and her eyes immediately land on Kiera, who’s hovering near the living room entrance.
Kiki’s smile falters. “Kiera? Are you okay?”
I watch Kiera’s face, see the way her jaw tightens as she tries to compose herself. But her eyes are still red-rimmed from crying, and there’s no hiding the fact that she’s been emotional.
“Yeah. Everything’s fine,” Kiera says, but her voice wavers slightly.
Kiki looks between us, and I can practically see the calculations happening behind her eyes. The way she’s taking in Kiera’s appearance and the general atmosphere of the house.
Something knowing crosses her expression—not suspicious or worried, but understanding. Like she can sense that something significant happened here tonight.
“Come on,” I say to Kiki, gesturing toward the hallway. “Let me show you where Skyler is. She fell asleep during Frozen.”
Kiki follows me down the hall to the spare bedroom. I ease the door open, and we both peek inside at Skyler, who’s still fast asleep, curled up under the covers with one hand tucked under her cheek.
“She’s adorable,” I whisper.
“She is.” Kiki’s voice is soft, full of love. “Thank you so much for letting her stay here. I know having a little girl invade your space probably wasn’t how you planned to spend your evening.”
“I was happy to help.” I keep my voice low so we don’t wake Skyler. “Besides, she’s great. We had fun.”
“I can carry her—” Kiki starts, but I shake my head.
“You’re pregnant. Let me.” I move past her into the room and carefully slide my arms under Skyler, lifting her as gently as I can. She turns her face into my shoulder, but doesn’t wake.
Kiki watches with this expression that’s somewhere between grateful and amused. “You’re good with her.”
“Kids are easy,” I say, adjusting my hold on Skyler. “They’re honest about what they want and need. Adults are way more complicated.”
“That’s very true.” Kiki leads the way back through the house, and we find Kiera in the entryway holding the massive tub of Barbies.
“I’ll get this,” Kiera says, hefting the tub.
We walk out to Kiki’s car together. The spring night air is warm and salt-tinged, and overhead the stars are visible despite the light pollution from the nearby harbor. I settle Skyler into her car seat while Kiera loads the Barbie tub into the trunk.
“Thank you both so much,” Kiki says, closing the trunk. “Seriously, you saved me tonight. I finished the ice cream shop, and it turned out good. The client is going to love it.”
“We were happy to help,” I say.
Kiki turns to head to the driver’s side, then pauses and looks back at me. “River, can I talk to you for just a second?”
I glance at Kiera, who’s already moving back toward the house, giving us space. “Sure.”
Kiki walks a few steps away from the car and turns to face me. In the porch light, I can see how serious her expression has become.
“Thank you,” she says quietly. “For being there for my sister.”
The weight behind those words makes my chest ache. “I didn’t do anything special.”
“Yes, you did.” Kiki’s eyes are bright. “Kiera doesn’t open up to people easily. She doesn’t trust easily. And whatever happened tonight—whatever she told you or shared with you—that’s huge. So thank you for making her feel safe enough to do that.”
I don’t know what to say. How to explain that Kiera trusting me feels like the most important thing that’s ever happened, that holding her while she cried felt like both a privilege and a responsibility I’m terrified of messing up.
“I care about her,” I say finally. “A lot.”
Kiki smiles, and it’s knowing and warm. “I can tell. And she cares about you too, even if she’s not ready to admit it yet.” She heads to her car and climbs in. She waves through the windshield, and I watch as she backs out of the driveway and disappears down the street.
When I turn back to the house, Kiera is standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the light behind her. I walk back up the steps, and suddenly I’m nervous. We’re alone again. No Skyler, no movie to watch, no cleaning to do. Just us and whatever happens next.
“So,” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets because I don’t trust what they’ll do otherwise. “It’s still early. Well, early-ish. Do you want to—” I pause, second-guessing myself. “Would you maybe want to go get a late night treat with me?”
She tilts her head, and I can’t read her expression in the dim light. “Like what kind of treat?”
“There’s an ice cream place up the road past the marina.
It stays open until midnight during the summer.
” I’m rambling now, nervous energy making my words tumble out faster.
“We could get ice cream and walk on the beach. Or not. We could just go back inside and watch another movie. Or you could go home if you’re tired. I’m not trying to—”
“River.” She’s smiling now, really smiling. “I’d like to get ice cream with you.”