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Her mom dug a letter out of her gardening apron. “I accidentally opened this. It’s an offer from a school in Nebraska. Wanna talk, kiddo?”

Kiera didn’t reach for the letter. She just stared at it like it might say something new if she waited long enough.

Her dad leaned a hip against the counter, arms crossed. “We figured it was time to ask what you’re really thinking.”

Kiera let out a breath. “I don’t know. It’s a good offer.”

Her mom sat down across from her, hands folded neatly in her lap, eyes steady. “No one’s saying it isn’t.”

Kiera closed the laptop slowly, like that might help quiet the noise in her head. “It’s safe. It’s a real job, in a district I did my student-teaching in. I could have the girls back in their old schools. I’d know the grocery stores, the weather. My way around.”

“But?” her dad asked.

She swallowed. “But I keep wondering if going back would just be… rewinding. Not moving forward. And I don’t know what forward even looks like yet.”

The silence stretched, not uncomfortable, just full.

Her mom nodded. “You’ve been working so hard to hold everything together — the girls, your routines, this job search. We’re happy to help where we can, but you’re stubborn like your Aunt Jade. You don’t have to prove anything to us. We know you can make either choice work. That’s not the question.”

Kiera glanced toward the back door, where Quinn and Eliza were still running in circles in the yard, yelling about ducks. Her heart ached a little — for them, for the life she was trying to shape, for the version of herself she had really started to like.

Her dad’s voice was quieter now. “Just don’t go back to something that didn’t serve you just because it’s easier to explain than staying here.”

That made her look up.

He shrugged. “We’ve been watching you soften. Not fall apart — soften. And that’s not a bad thing.”

Kiera blinked hard, pressing her fingertips to the edge of the table.

“Tonya says you’re nearly at the end of your metamorphosis,” her mom said with the nonchalance of a remark about good weather.

Kiera’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Tonya…”

“You know, Tonya. My spiritual guide,” her mom said, and Kiera took a deep breath.

“How’d Tonya know about the goo phase?” Kiera said, tilting her head.

“The what?” Her dad asked, opening a few drawers before finding whatever he was looking for. He slid a slim manila envelope across the table. “Jade wanted us to give you this, too.”

Kiera frowned, hesitating before pulling the flap open. Inside was a lease agreement — already signed — for a furnished townhouse near the girl’s school. A key was paperclipped to the top. Her stomach flipped. “She — what is this?”

Her mom gave a small shrug. “She wants to spend more time here in Denver but figured you could crash there with the girls until you land on your feet. It’s already paid through the end of the year.”

Kiera stared at the document, throat tightening. “I can’t accept this.”

Her dad snorted. “Then don’t tell her that. You think she asks for permission? Have you ever tried telling Jade no? It’s impossible.”

“She said if you so much astryto thank her, she’ll pretend she doesn’t know what you’re talking about,” her mom added, standing to ready a cup of tea as if this wasn’t absurd.

Kiera ran a hand through her hair, overwhelmed. “It’s too much. I don’t even know if I’m going to get a job. It’s just way too much.”

“Jade has a different definition of ‘too much’ than the rest of us,” her dad said. “She loves you. She’s always had a soft spot for the girls. And she’s not going to let you make a decision based on where you can crash rent-free.”

Kiera looked back down at the lease. Her name was already written in neat, looping script at the top. The key felt small and heavy in her palm.

Her mom reached out, resting a hand on hers. “You don’t have to use it. But it’s there if you need it. You’re allowed to choose something for yourself.”

Kiera didn’t say anything, but she didn’t hand the key back either.