We stand there for a moment, hands joined, the afternoon light streaming through the kitchen windows and casting everything in gold. Kiera’s looking at me with those brilliant blue eyes, and her walls are down—really down, not just cracked but fully lowered—and I can see everything she’s feeling written clearly on her face.
She cares. About me, about my story, about the things that hurt me.
And I realize with sudden, crystal clarity that I’m falling for her. Not just attracted to her, not just intrigued by her—falling. Hard and fast and completely. I swallow.
“River,” she says quietly, and there’s something vulnerable in the way she says my name. Like she’s testing it out, seeing how it feels to be this close, this open.
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you told me. About your mom, and the pressure, and all of it.” She squeezes my hand gently. “You deserved better than that.”
My throat tightens. “So did you. With your parents, and everything that happened.”
A shadow crosses her face at the mention of her parents, but she doesn’t pull away. “Maybe we both deserved better. But we’re here now, right? Figuring it out.”
“Together,” I add, and I squeeze her hand back.
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Sure,” she says, but she pulls her hand out of mine and grabs the bowl she used to mix the marinade. “I guess I’d better clean up.”
I hold in a sigh. I did it again. I scared her away. I turn and open the dishwasher. “You rinse, and I’ll put them in.”
“Sounds good,” she says, her tone professional again.
I kick myself for pushing her too far. When am I going to learn?
CHAPTER 9
RiverStone
Tuesday, June 1
I placethe last dish in the dishwasher and close the door, hitting the start button. The machine hums to life, and I turn to find Kiera folding up her empty reusable grocery bag, tucking it under her arm.
“I’ll be back at six,” she says, her tone aloof. The vulnerability from our conversation about my family, the way she held my hand and looked at me like she understood—it’s gone, hidden behind her carefully constructed defenses. “The galbi should be perfectly marinated by then.”
“Sounds good.” I lean against the counter, not quite ready for her to leave even though I know she needs to. “Are you moving into your apartment today?”
She glances up, surprised. “How did you?—”
“You signed the lease yesterday, I figured since it’s the start of the month you could move in. Plus, you have that look.”
“What look?”
“Excited but trying not to show it.” I smile. “So? Are you moving in today?”
A small, genuine smile breaks across her face despite her obvious attempt to stay guarded. “I’ve packed up most of my things. But I can’t actually move everything until Tobias gets back from his business trip.”
“Why’s that?”
She shifts her weight, the grocery bag crinkling in her grip. “The bedframe and mattress are too heavy, even for Kiki and me together. So...” She shrugs. “I’m just waiting.”
“I can help.”
The words are out before I fully think them through, but I don’t regret them. This is exactly the kind of thing I want to do—show up, be useful, prove I’m not going anywhere.
“River, no.” Kiera shakes her head immediately. “You’ve already done enough. You helped me look at the apartment yesterday, you’ve been letting me use your kitchen to practice cooking?—”
“And I’d like to help you move your bed.” I push off from the counter. “Come on, Kiera. It’s not a big deal. I can lift heavy things. That’s basically my only qualification here, but it’s a good one.”
