Chapter 13
River Stone
Skyler shovels another forkful of chicken into her mouth like she’s in some kind of speed-eating competition, her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk storing acorns for winter.
“Skyler,” Kiera says, but I can see her fighting a smile. “Slow down. The Barbies aren’t going anywhere. They’ll wait for you.”
“But Princess Glitter needs to go to the ball!” Skyler protests around her mouthful of food. “And Ken is waiting for her!”
“Ken has been waiting this long, he can wait five more minutes.” Kiera’s trying to sound stern, but her eyes are sparkling with barely contained laughter. “Chew your food properly or you’re going to choke.”
Skyler makes a dramatic show of chewing slowly, her jaw working in exaggerated circles. Kiera’s lips twitch, and she presses them together, but a small laugh escapes anyway. It’s a bright, genuine sound that makes something warm bloom in my chest.
I watch Kiera watching Skyler, and I’m struck by the softness in her expression.
All those walls she keeps so carefully maintained, all that defensive sarcasm and guarded distance—it’s completely gone when she looks at her niece.
Her blue eyes are gentle, full of affection and patience and something that looks a lot like love.
She reaches over and tucks a strand of Skyler’s hair behind her ear, the gesture so tender it makes my throat tight. “There you go. Much better.”
And that’s when it hits me.
This is why I started falling for Kiera back at Levi’s wedding.
Not just because she was beautiful or quick-witted or talented.
But because I caught glimpses of moments when her armor cracked just enough for me to see the softness underneath.
The way she laughed at something Micah said.
The way she helped Kiki without being asked.
The genuine warmth that broke through her defenses when she thought no one was watching.
Kiera likes to pretend she’s all sharp edges and sarcasm, that she doesn’t need anyone, that she’s fine on her own. But she’s not. She’s got this soft center that she protects fiercely, and when she lets it show—when she looks at Skyler like she’s the sweetest thing in the world—it’s devastating.
I take a bite of the chicken, and it’s as delicious as I knew it would be. The skin is perfectly crispy, seasoned with herbs and garlic, and the meat underneath is juicy and tender. The roasted potatoes are golden and crispy on the outside, soft inside, with just the right amount of rosemary.
“This is delicious,” I say, keeping my tone casual. I’ve learned that Kiera deflects compliments, especially elaborate ones. She gets uncomfortable, starts making excuses about how it’s just basic cooking or nothing special. So I keep it simple. Honest, but not overwhelming.
She glances at me, and I catch a flash of pleasure in her expression before she looks back at her plate. “Thanks.”
Skyler finishes her last bite and immediately bounces in her chair. “Can I go play now? Please?”
“Yes, but—” Kiera holds up a finger. “Take your plate to the sink first.”
“Okay!” Skyler grabs her plate with both hands and carefully carries it to the kitchen. I hear the clink of ceramic against the sink, and then she’s racing back through the dining room. “Thank you for dinner!”
“You’re welcome, Little Pup,” Kiera calls after her.
Skyler disappears into the living room, and I hear the sounds of Barbie-related chaos resume. Plastic accessories clattering, Skyler’s voice providing dialogue for multiple dolls at once.
Kiera and I finish our meals in comfortable silence. I catch her sneaking glances at me a few times, like she’s trying to figure something out but doesn’t want to ask directly.
“I’ll handle the dishes,” I say, standing and reaching for her plate.
“River, you don’t have to---”
“I know.” I take her plate anyway, stacking it on top of mine. “My house. I want to do the dishes tonight. That’s the deal, remember?”
She opens her mouth like she wants to argue, then closes it. “Fine. I’ll go make sure Skyler isn’t destroying your living room.”
“She can destroy whatever she wants. It’s just a house.”
Kiera shakes her head, but she’s smiling as she heads toward the living room. I carry the dishes to the kitchen and start loading the dishwasher, listening to the sounds of Skyler’s enthusiastic play and Kiera’s occasional interjections.
When I finish and wipe down the counters, I head to the living room and stop in the doorway.
Kiera is sprawled on the floor surrounded by Barbies and their various accessories. Skyler is directing an elaborate scene involving what appears to be a wedding between Princess Glitter and Ken, with several other dolls serving as bridesmaids and guests.
“And then Elsa says, ‘Congratulations, Princess Glitter!’” Skyler holds up a blonde doll, making her wave at the bride. “And Anna says, ‘You look so pretty!’”
“What does Princess Glitter say?” Kiera prompts, picking up the bride.
Skyler pauses, thinking hard. “She says, ‘Thank you for coming to my wedding! Now let’s have cake!’”
“Excellent plan,” Kiera says seriously. “Cake is the most important part of any wedding.”
I cross to them and lower myself to the floor, sitting beside Kiera. She glances at me, surprise flickering across her face.
“What?” I reach for the Ken doll. “I can’t let you two have all the fun.”
Skyler’s eyes light up. “River! You’re here! Ken has to say his vows now.”
“His vows?” I hold up the plastic doll, studying his permanent smile. “I’m not sure I know what Ken would say.”
“He says he loves Princess Glitter forever and ever,” Skyler explains patiently, like this should be obvious. “And that he’ll always take care of her.”
Something twists in my chest. I glance at Kiera and find her looking at the doll in her hands, her expression unreadable.
“Okay,” I say, keeping my voice light. I clear my throat and put on my best dramatic voice. “Princess Glitter, I promise to love you forever and ever. And to always take care of you. And to...” I pause for effect. “Share my pizza.”
Skyler giggles. “Ken doesn’t eat pizza!”
“He does now,” I say seriously. “It’s in the vows.”
Kiera laughs—that genuine, unguarded sound that I’m becoming addicted to. “Pizza vows. Very romantic.”
We play for another twenty minutes, Skyler directing us through increasingly elaborate scenarios involving underwater kingdoms, castle balls, and at one point, a dragon attack that requires Elsa to freeze everything.
Kiera gets into it, doing voices for the different dolls and adding plot twists that make Skyler squeal with delight.
I mostly just watch Kiera. The way her whole face lights up when she makes Skyler laugh. The way she’s completely present. The way she’s gentle with this little girl who clearly adores her.
This is what I want, I realize. Not just Kiera the talented chef or Kiera the sarcastic defender of emotional walls. But I want the Kiera who plays Barbies on the floor and does silly voices and looks at her niece like she’s the sweetest thing since apple pie.
“I’m bored with Barbies,” Skyler announces suddenly. “Can we watch a movie?”
I look at Kiera, deferring to her judgment. She checks her phone for the time. “It’s getting late, but... sure. One movie.”
“Frozen!” Skyler bounces excitedly. “Can we watch Frozen, River?”
“Sure.” I stand and offer my hand to Kiera, pulling her to her feet. She lets go of my hand quickly, but I’m getting used to that reaction.
“Come on,” I say. “I have a better place to watch movies than in here.”
I lead them down the hallway to a door in the back of my house. Skyler runs ahead of us, down the aisle of my theater room. She stops and gasps.
“Wow!”
I have to admit, this is the room that sold this house for me.
There are three rows of leather recliners, four seats in each row, all facing a massive screen that takes up the entire far wall.
The walls are painted dark blue, and there’s soft lighting along the baseboards that creates a cozy atmosphere.
In the very front, closest to the screen, there’s a sectional couch that I had installed because sometimes I like to sprawl out when I’m watching footage.
“This is like a real movie theater!” Skyler spins in a circle, taking it all in.
“It kind of is,” I admit. “I like to watch my footage in here sometimes. The big screen helps me see details I might miss on my computer monitor.”
Skyler runs to the couch and throws herself onto it. “I want to sit here!”
Kiera hesitates, her eyes wide as she takes in the space. “River, this is... excessive.”
“I know.” I shrug. “But it’s useful for work, and it’s fun for movie nights. Come on.”
I grab the remote and pull up Disney+ while Kiera makes her way to the couch. Skyler is already sprawled across one end, leaving a space just big enough for Kiera and myself. Kiera sits down and I have no choice but to sit right beside her.
The moment I sit down, Skyler scrambles over me and curls up on Kiera’s lap. I start the movie, and the opening notes fill the surround sound system. Skyler snuggles deeper into Kiera’s arms, and Kiera wraps her arms around the little girl, holding her close.
I try to focus on the movie but I keep finding my attention drifting to Kiera. To the way she’s gently stroking Skyler’s hair. To the soft expression on her face. To the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes.
About halfway through the movie, I notice Skyler has gone completely still. Her eyes are closed, her breathing deep and even.
“She’s out,” I whisper.
Kiera looks down and smiles. “She always does this. Gets so excited about watching a movie, then falls asleep twenty minutes in.”
“Should we turn it off?”
“Not yet.” Kiera adjusts her hold on Skyler slightly, cradling her more securely. “Let’s watch for a bit longer. I don’t want to wake her moving too much.”
So we sit there in the darkened theater, watching Anna and Elsa’s story unfold on the massive screen. Kiera holds Skyler with such tenderness it makes my chest ache. This is what she’d be like as a mother someday, I think. Gentle and fierce all at once. A mother bear, but giving space to grow.
When the movie ends and the credits start rolling, I stand carefully. “Let me take her.”
Kiera looks up at me, and for a moment I think she’s going to protest. Then she nods.
I lean down and slide my arms under Skyler, lifting her as gently as I can. She’s heavier than she looks, but she doesn’t wake, just makes a small sound and rests her head against my shoulder.
“There’s a spare bedroom upstairs,” I say quietly. “She can sleep there.”
Kiera follows me up the stairs and down the hallway to one of the guest rooms. I ease Skyler onto the bed, and Kiera pulls the covers over her, tucking them around her small body with the same tenderness she showed earlier.
“Sweet dreams, Little Pup,” Kiera whispers, brushing a strand of hair from Skyler’s forehead.
We leave the door slightly ajar and head back to the living room. The Barbie explosion is still scattered across the floor—dolls, clothes, tiny plastic accessories everywhere.
“We should probably clean this up,” I say.
“Yeah.” Kiera kneels on the floor and starts gathering dolls. “Before someone steps on a high heel and discovers just how painful tiny plastic shoes can be.”
I kneel beside her, picking up Ken and a collection of his accessories. We work in silence for a few minutes, dropping dolls and their various belongings into the large plastic tub Skyler brought.
I reach for Elsa at the same moment Kiera does.
Our fingers touch.
The contact is electric, sending awareness shooting up my arm. For half a second, we’re both frozen, our hands touching over the blonde doll.
Then Kiera jerks her hand back like she’s been burned.
Something in me snaps.
I’m tired of this. Tired of the careful distance, the way she pulls away every time we get close, the walls that slam up the moment we have a real connection. I’m tired of almost-kisses and stolen glances and the constant push-pull between us.
I toss Elsa in the container and turn to face her fully.
“Who hurt you?”
The words come out rougher than I intend, but I don’t take them back. I hold her gaze, watching the way her eyes go wide, the way her breath catches.
“What?”
“Who hurt you, Kiera?” I ask again, softer this time but no less intense. “Someone made you afraid of being touched. Someone made you think you need to run every time someone gets close. Who was it?”
She’s staring at me, her face pale, and I can see her internal struggle playing out in her expression—the impulse to deflect with sarcasm, to make a joke, to run away like she always does.
But I don’t let her. I just sit there, waiting, letting her see how serious I am. How much I need to understand.
“I...” She starts, then stops. Her throat works as she swallows. “River, I don’t—”
“Please.” The word comes out quieter, almost desperate. “Help me understand. Because every time we have a moment, every time I think maybe you’re letting me in, you pull away. And I don’t know if it’s because you don’t want me or because you’re scared. But I need to know which one it is.”
The silence stretches between us, thick with tension and unspoken things.
Kiera is still staring at me, her brilliant blue eyes bright with what might be tears. Her hands are clenched in her lap, and I can see her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.
Say something, I think. Tell me. Let me in. Let me help.
Her lips part, and I lean forward slightly, waiting for her answer.