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“How do you know this?” Gwen asked.

“The internet.”

“Should have guessed.” Gwen nodded, then sighed. “I’m going to go wake up Arlo and Jude with my new weird bug facts.”

Izzy sat back as Gwen slipped inside, leaving her alone again with the dawn stretching over the Austin sky.

Watching Gwen shut down again had left Izzy feeling raw. She could see how much Maggie needed her, how much Gwen loved her, and yet neither of them could say the thing that mattered most. It made her heart ache — not just for them, but for all the ways people missed each other while trying not to need too much. Izzy had been waiting quietly, trying not to press, hoping someone would choose her without being asked to. But that wasn’t enough anymore.

She would stay here for as long as Maggie needed her — of course she would — but the next time she saw Kiera, she wasn’t going to hold back. She was going to say what she wanted. And this time, she wouldn’t apologize for wanting it.

Another handfulof days passed in a haze of grief, responsibility, and exhaustion. The household began to settle into something resembling a routine — morning playtime, packing lunches, driving the boys to and from school, taking Rosie to the playground to wear her out, evening board games that ended with scattered pieces and sleepy yawns. The house never felt truly quiet, not with Maggie’s other family members checking in, Gwen moving around like a ghost, and the ever-present neediness of small children demanding snacks or attention. But somehow, it still felt hollow.

Gwen had locked herself in her office most days, and Izzy tried not to notice the blankets on the family room couch.

Izzy wasn’t sure what was keeping her in Austin anymore. At first, it was Maggie. The need to be the one solid thing Maggie could lean on without guilt, without explanation. In the past few days, Maggie got back into the swing of parenthood, though Izzy frequently helped when Maggie was exhausted or needed a break. Lately, she’d started wondering if it was also a way to delay making decisions about her own life. About Denver. About Kiera.

One evening, after the kids had gone to bed and Gwen was still hidden away in her office, Izzy found Maggie in the kitchen, staring out the window with a faraway look. The kitchen light cast soft shadows against the walls, the half-empty glass of wine in Maggie’s hand reflecting amber in the dim glow.

The exhaustion was still there, but something had shifted. Maggie’s shoulders seemed just a little less weighed down.

"Izzy," Maggie said quietly, her voice so soft it was difficult to hear.

"Yeah?" Izzy organized a few pieces of mail on the counter.

"You need to go home."

Izzy froze, setting down one of the never-ending Hello Fresh advertisements. "I’m not sure?—"

"You’ve done more than enough," Maggie interrupted, finally turning to face her. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, the skin beneath them dark and swollen like bruises — the kind of exhaustion that clung to the bones, untouched by sleep. "You’ve been here for me in ways I didn’t even know I needed. But I can’t keep leaning on you like this. You need to get back to your life." Her voice was steady.

"I’m fine staying here as long as you need,” Izzy said.

Maggie shook her head, her smile small, bittersweet. "I’ll never be ready for you to leave," she admitted, raw honesty in her voice. "I wish I could shrink you and keep you in my pocket. But I need to figure some things out." Her voice wavered slightly,but she held Izzy’s gaze with quiet resolve. "And you’ve got a job to get back to.”

“My job is flexible, and Pete’s my boss, so she knows I’ve been taking care of more important things and working from here when I can.”

Maggie leveled her with a look Izzy was pretty sure came in some kind ofHow To Be A Parenthandbook, equal parts concerned, disappointed, and exasperated.

Izzy swallowed hard. The thought of leaving felt like abandoning Maggie in the middle of a storm, but deep down, she knew her friend was right. Still, it was hard to let go.

Maggie reached out and took Izzy’s hand in hers, squeezing gently. "Don’t you need to go figure things out with Kiera?”

Izzy exhaled a laugh, shaking her head. Her voice was light, teasing. “We’re taking things slow.”

Maggie arched a brow. "Taking things slow or avoiding things altogether?"

Izzy narrowed her eyes. “You’re way too smug for someone who’s kicking me out.”

Maggie grinned, just for a moment, before her expression softened. “I like the idea of you two together. I like that you’re not afraid of heartbreak anymore.”

“I’ve never been afraid of heartbreak,” Izzy admitted. “What scares me is being fully seen and still left behind, and I can’t help but wonder if that’s about to happen yet again.” She hadn’t ever admitted that out loud, barely even to herself.

“Only one way to find out,” Maggie said, reaching to squeeze Izzy’s shoulder as she turned away.

Izzy hesitated, studying Maggie’s face. She was avoiding direct eye contact now, suddenly preoccupied with an invisible speck on the countertop. "And you and Gwen? Will you be okay?"

Maggie’s easy expression faltered for the first time. "Oh, yeah, sure," she said, but the words were rushed, forced. She lifted a shoulder in an almost careless shrug, but it was obvious, painfully obvious, that she was putting on a front.