Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

DANICA

"You look terrible."

Danica turned to find her favorite nurse practitioner, Annie, standing in the doorway of their shared office with two cups of coffee. She rubbed at her eyes, her vision still blurry as she reached for the cup. Annie paused, then handed her both.

"Did I miss something? Is something wrong?" Annie asked, brushing her bright white hair out of her face as she tossed her scrub cap into her desk.

"I'm fine," Danica lied.

Annie surveyed her. "Isn't this your third overnight in the last week? Is that even legal?"

Danica shrugged. "I took a week off last month for that ski trip, so I have to make it up to everyone who covered my shifts."

Annie hooked a thumb toward the hallway with the on-call rooms. "You know we can sleep at night, right? You look like you haven't closed your eyes for?—"

"You don't actually have to finish that extremely flattering compliment you were about to give me," Danica said, scoffing in amusement. "Hey, did you see the new blood test numbers for baby Kirby?"

Annie glanced at her watch. "Don't you try to distract me."

Danica couldn't help but grin. She knew damn well that Annie had already been on the watch for hypocalcemia with one of their favorite patients and she'd figured that it would be an easy distraction. She sipped the bitter, burnt coffee that most likely came from the team room, where the well-meaning new resident had taken to making the worst coffee in the world.

It was nice to be back here after her week away. It felt... not exactly normal, but familiar. Life inside the NICU could feel like a vacuum. Nothing outside of the unit existed for the time she spent there. She could entirely devote herself to her patients, to figuring out the puzzles of strange dips in calcium levels, to sit and talk to her patient's parents to come to an agreement for the best treatment plan. It was exactly the situation she needed right now — too intense and challenging to spend any extra time thinking about Pete.

She'd taken on so many additional shifts because her time outside of the NICU felt like it passed in slow motion. Just two days ago, she'd cried in the produce section of the grocery store while Roxette's "It Must Have Been Love" blared from tinny speakers overhead. Flustered, she'd abandoned her empty cart and driven home in silence. She'd racked up so many shifts taking over for colleagues that they'd all be indebted to her for months.

Though her sleep in the on-call room was shallow and broken, it was far better than the sleep she'd been getting at home. Valentine's Day had come and gone, reminding her just how alone she was.

Six weeks had passed, and Danica still woke up some mornings with the faint, lingering scent of Pete’s coconut and apricot shampoo, as if a part of her was now permanently imprinted on Danica’s belongings.

But that moment, the one where she left without a word, haunted her like a ghost. It had been so easy to leave. Maybe too easy. She'd told herself it was because she was the one who couldn’t do this — couldn’t have this. Not with Pete, not with anyone. There were reasons, all these carefully constructed reasons: she wasn’t ready, she wasn’t good enough, she didn’t know how to stay without losing herself in the process of trying to live up to Pete’s ideals.

But every night, when she let herself think about it — really think about it — her heart ached. And sometimes she couldn’t tell if it was regret, or something else, something deeper.

The quiet replayed in her mind. How she had silently packed her things, then slipped out without a goodbye. How she'd told herself it was the only way — get out before it hurt too much, before she got too attached. But she had gotten attached, and it had hurt anyway. More than she’d expected. More than she’d wanted to admit.

She could still hear Pete's laugh, warm and soft, echoing in her chest, like a part of her heart had stayed behind in that room.

Danica had tried not to think about Pete for weeks, tried to bury the memory in the mundane rhythm of her life, the intensity of her work. But there was always a gap, an open space where something important should have been. Her mind wandered back to their last conversation, how Pete had said she’d follow her anywhere — until she’d left so Pete couldn’t make good on that promise.

Every time she thought about Pete, a tightness in her chest made her want to reach out, to say the things she hadn’t said before, but she was too scared to ruin it even further. What if Pete had moved on? What if Pete hated her for what she’d done? What if Pete had just been wrapped up in the moment and never really intended for them to have a future?

Her fingers hovered over her phone, thinking about texting — just a simple, stupid “Hey” or maybe an apology, something to bridge the gap between them — but she always stopped herself. Every message she drafted felt inadequate, like no combination of words would ever explain why she had run, why she had cut things off the way she had.

Maybe Pete wouldn’t even want to hear from her. Maybe it was better this way, to let the past stay where it belonged.

Then there were moments when Danica couldn’t shake the memory of Pete's touch, her smile, the way everything had felt so damn real. The ache in her chest grew sharper, more insistent. It didn’t make sense, but it was there, and it was unavoidable.

She wanted to believe it wasn’t too late. That maybe, just maybe, Pete was still thinking about her the way she was thinking about her. The longer she waited, the more she wondered if she had already lost that chance.

There was something about Pete. Something that made Danica feel safe, seen. And that scared the hell out of her.

The hardest part wasn’t just that she had left — it was that she didn’t know how to come back.

"So, Friday works, then?" Annie was saying.

Danica blinked, coming back to the present. "Sorry, what's Friday?"

"The dinner party at my house. Michaela will be there," Annie explained. Michaela, her niece, had recently moved to Denver and Annie had been trying to set them up ever since she found out Danica and Eddie were officially over. Danica had told her for weeks that she wasn't interested in dating anyone, but Annie had promised that they should at least try to be friends. Danica interpreted the insistence as Annie's belief that all queer women in her life would get along, and if Michaela was anything like Annie, she was sure that was true. The fact was that she just wasn’t ready. She couldn’t open that part of herself again.

"Oh, right," Danica said, nodding. "Yeah, I couldn't get out of the plans with my parents." Her parents wouldn't have cared if she'd postponed their biweekly dinner to go meet new friends — in fact, they'd been encouraging her to venture into exploring what a healthier work-life balance could look like. She just wasn't ready to be set up with someone. It wasn't fair to the other person, and it also made her feel ashamed to admit to herself that it wasn't that she was getting over a broken engagement and a recently reopened heartbreak wound.

Friday was the start of six days off in a row, and she was dreading having so much time alone with her thoughts. Maybe she'd beg one of her other colleagues to switch a shift with her halfway through to break up the monotony.

"Next time, then?" Annie asked.

Danica nodded. "Next time."

Distracted, she tugged at the drawstring to her scrub pants, retying them in a tighter bow. She glanced at the clock. She had to attend a scheduled C-section in about twenty minutes, and wanted to complete the statistics for a bedside meeting before the end of her shift for an expectant mother in the antepartum unit.

Marina, the nutritionist, popped her head into the office. "Oh, hi Danica. Annie, I wanted to talk to you about Kirby's calcium levels."

Danica stretched, yawned, and tipped the coffee cup up to finish the last drops of the blessed caffeine. "I'm going to go check on a chest tube seal before this birth. See you in the OR, Annie?"

Annie gave her a thumbs up, and Danica stood from her desk, her clogs clicking against the floor as she tucked a few loose strands of hair back into her scrub cap.

She’d chosen this. The sharp scent of disinfectant, the soft hush of sliding glass doors, the rhythmic beeping of monitors, the occasional alarm — everything in its place, predictable, structured. It calmed her soul. Before the trip last month, it had been enough. The hospital was her world, a place where she could bury everything — the noise in her head, the weight of her loneliness, the ache of unspoken words.

But now, as she rubbed hand sanitizer onto her palms and pulled a pair of gloves from the dispenser, something unsettled her. The hollow feeling had started small, like a pinprick, but it was growing. She couldn’t ignore it, even as she checked the chest tube with practiced hands. Her patient was stable. Everything was fine. Yet her mind drifted back to the last days of her time off — the long conversations, the laughter, the deep connection she’d felt with her friends, with Pete. It had felt real, something she hadn’t experienced in a long time, and it had left a void now that she was back to this — her routine, her walls.

She hadn’t reached out to Kiera, not after the way they’d left things. The betrayal hanging between them was too much to face. More than that, she missed Pete. Not just the romantic moments, but the way Pete had made her feel seen. It had been so easy, so comfortable. It was something Danica didn’t even realize she needed until it was gone.

Her heart tightened. She hadn’t expected it to hurt this much. The hospital, the patients, the daily grind — it was all still there, still familiar. Now, it felt emptier somehow. She didn’t want to admit it, but the life she had built felt like it was missing something, someone. And that terrified her.

She glanced down at the monitor again—stable vitals, nothing to worry about. But her chest felt heavy in a way the machines couldn’t measure.

Her pager buzzed with the code for an accidental extubation in room 27, for a baby just down the hallway. Her mind focused and she forgot entirely about her self-pity as she spun, nearly crashing into the respiratory therapist in the hall.

She had work to do. Important work. She couldn't just wallow in self-pity all day. She'd chosen this, and she had to stop dwelling on past regrets and mistakes and What Ifs to be here in the present. She'd owed her patients — she owed herself — that much.

Danica got a notification that her groceries were being delivered. She was still avoiding the produce section like a coward after she'd cried into that heap of cabbages. She had about two hours to get herself ready and also make the salad she'd offered to bring to her parents’ house for dinner — her step-dad had called earlier to remind her and bribe her with one of her favorite meals. Maybe she'd get drunk and sleep in her old bedroom so that she wouldn't have to face six entire days alone.

She opened the door expecting to find grocery bags but stilled as she saw Kiera standing on her doorstep, her hand raised as if she was about to knock. She wore a long wool coat over a matching lounge set and sneakers. To top off the look, she wore a navy-blue baseball hat that just said "Sports!" Danica had never seen her in a hat, and the sight was uncanny, like Kiera was wearing the costume of a casual person.

Kiera's shoulders lifted in surprise. "Um. Hey," she said, tucking a strand of her short hair behind her ear like she didn't know what to do with her raised hand. She fidgeted and adjusted her glasses.

"What are you doing here?" Danica asked, more shocked than angry, even though her tone tip-toed the line between the two emotions.

"Can we talk?" Kiera asked, looking past her into the condo. "Inside, preferably? I'm about to lose a toe to frostbite out here."

Danica's grip tightened on the salad bowl and she didn't move from the doorway. Two warring thoughts battled inside of her — how relieved she was to see Kiera again and how angry and hurt she still felt about what Kiera had done.

Kiera stood, wringing her hands, as Danica stared at her in silence. Danica's eyes locked on the gesture, noticing that Kiera's hands were bare. No wedding ring. She glanced back up to meet Kiera's gaze.

Her best friend had dark circles under her eyes, which were red-rimmed and puffy.

Footsteps interrupted them as a confused man delivering her groceries approached, his arms full of two paper bags holding her salad ingredients. She waved, taking the groceries while thanking him, then turned back to Kiera with her arms full now.

“I have to make a salad,” Danica said, feeling like it was a stupid excuse even as the words left her mouth.

Kiera silently shifted her weight from foot to foot.

"How are your radish slicing skills?" Danica asked. She was not ready to be the first to say she was sorry. Not this time.

"I'd say above average," Kiera said, her eyes darting past her and into her condo.

"Want to help me get this salad ready?" Danica asked, and as Kiera nodded, Danica waved her in.

Five minutes later, the only sounds in the kitchen were the rhythmic chopping of the knife against the cutting board as Kiera cut vegetables, and the faucet as Danica rinsed the lettuce in the salad spinner. Danica was waiting for Kiera to apologize, or to explain, to say anything , but Kiera just stared down at the small red root vegetables on the cutting board.

Danica pumped the salad spinner, the bowl humming as it spun the water from the lettuce, then slowed to a stop. She glanced back toward Kiera, but Kiera was still dutifully slicing radishes.

Finally, Kiera finished, opening cupboards to find a bowl to put the sliced radishes in. She opened four cupboards before finding where Danica kept her bowls, and Danica just leaned against the counter watching, without chiming in to help.

Kiera turned, finally, and furrowed her brow slightly. "What else do you need to prepare?"

"You don't even like radishes," Danica said, setting the salad spinner down a little too loudly on her granite countertop.

"I eat salads," Kiera said defensively.

Danica couldn't stand it anymore. She was going to have to be the first to bring it up. "Why?"

Kiera angled her head. "Why do I... eat salads?"

"Why did you tell Eddie to come to Telluride like I needed saving? Like I didn’t deserve a say in my own relationship?" Danica asked, not falling for Kiera’s attempt to disarm her.

"Something important happened in your life, and I didn't know. And because you didn't tell me, I thought you were cheating on your fiancé." Kiera shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. "I was pissed off, and freaked out, and confused, and betrayed."

Danica blinked back tears. "I didn't lie to you to hurt you. You invited Eddie to hurt me."

"I'm so sorry for that. I wasn't trying to hurt you." Kiera turned, leaning back against the counter. "I was genuinely worried about you. I thought you were doing to Eddie what Alex had done to me, and I knew what it felt like to be on the other side of it, and it wasn't fair to Eddie. And then you told me you'd broken up after I messaged him, but I still thought that maybe if you and Eddie could work out... Maybe so could Alex and I... I don't know." She reached under her glasses to wipe her eyes.

Danica sagged against the counter. "Well, I'm genuinely worried about you, too. Alex is having an affair and you're?—"

"We're getting a divorce. Alex and I." The confession came fast, like a dam had broken inside of Kiera. Her voice shook as she continued, "I'm divorcing Alex. I served him papers about a week after getting home from Telluride.”

Danica gaped at Kiera, and upon noticing that her chin was wobbling in an effort not to cry, she stepped forward and wrapped Kiera in a hug. What was she supposed to say to that? That she was proud of her friend? That she was sorry? Neither felt exactly right.

"I fucked up," Kiera said, sniffling into Danica's shoulder. "I'm so sorry. I'm so embarrassed that I thought I knew better than you did about your own relationship."

Danica just held Kiera tighter. "I fucked up, too. I made a mistake by not telling you, causing you to think I was cheating on Eddie. I don't know why I did that to you."

"I was so mad at you." Kiera's voice cracked into a whisper.

"Same." Danica confessed, her voice muffled in Kiera's sweatshirt.

Kiera let out a shaky laugh. "I was mad that you didn't just tell me. You can tell me anything, and you kept it from me. That makes no sense, you dummy. And I was jealous that you were happy when I wasn’t, if we're being honest, and feeling a little betrayed that you were having fun with Pete again after how many years it took for you to get over her."

Danica pulled back, wiping at the tears welling in her own eyes. "I know. I thought Pete and I were just having fun, and that I had it all under control, and I just... I got scared. Being there didn't feel real, you know? I could just have fun and focus on the present. I could pretend like my real life didn't exist, and that Pete and I could exist in some vacuum where I could come home after and not feel..." She paused, struggling to find the right words. "Heartbroken all over again. But you were right. Pete and I don't work in real life, and I should have guarded my feelings better."

Kiera pulled off her glasses, cleaning the fogged-up lenses on her sweatshirt. Her face was still blotchy, but now she had a slight grin on her face. "Yeah, about that."

"About what?" Danica asked suspiciously. She turned toward the wine rack and pointing with her eyebrows raised in question. Kiera nodded, and Danica pulled out two glasses and a bottle of a red blend.

Kiera moved around the kitchen island to sit on one of the stools. "I've been talking to Izzy about you and?—"

Danica paused mid-step, staring at Kiera in disbelief. "You've been talking to Izzy?"

Kiera rolled her eyes. "That's what you're focusing on?"

"You've been talking to Izzy about... me?" Danica asked as she uncorked the bottle. Her hands were shaking with a sudden jolt of nerves.

"About you and Pete. You're our best friends," Kiera said like it was an obvious statement.

"This feels more like a Meddling Maggie thing," Danica said, pouring the wine.

"Oh, believe me. She's been in on it, too."

"And what if I don't want to be in on whatever it is? Or if Pete doesn't?" Danica asked gently, picking at a speck of invisible dust on the countertop. How could Pete ever forgive her for slipping away without a word, especially after Pete had opened up about wanting a future together? Danica felt like a coward, and she’d be shocked if Pete ever found it in her heart to forgive her. She lifted her wine glass to her lips, but paused. "Wait, what has Izzy said about Pete? Hypothetically."

"You know, that's the interesting part. I thought Pete would run off and spend a year in Zambia or something," Kiera said, drumming her fingers along the stem of her wine glass. "But she seems to be settling down in Seattle. Traveling less. She bought a houseplant."

The pain that she was still making assumptions about Pete felt like a punch to Danica's solar plexus. She rubbed at her sternum. But what had Danica expected? That Pete would show up with a boombox outside her window? That Pete would show up and beg her to reconsider their future together? That Pete would move to Denver without her knowing and they'd run into each other at Jazz in the Park? All of these daydreams, playing out since her return home, left her with a childish, immature feeling, a sense of longing for something she couldn't quite grasp. Who needed to grow up now?

Kiera sipped the wine, watching Danica’s expressions closely. "She and Izzy are leaving for a three-week-long trip to Costa Rica tonight. The first few days are basically just a fun, relaxing part of the trip, I think.”

Danica nodded again. "She and Izzy?"

"She's training Izzy to take over some of the international travel duties," Kiera said, giving her a pointed look.

"Okay?" Danica said, not quite understanding.

"Pete told Izzy that she wants to travel less. You know, really have a life in one place," Kiera said.

Danica snorted in disbelief.

Kiera gave her a challenging look. "She seems serious about it. Anyway, she and Izzy have a layover in Denver."

"Oh?" The sound came out as a tiny squeak.

"Yeah, they'll be here for about three hours starting at..." Kiera glanced at the clock on the stove. "Well, in thirty-four minutes."

"What are you saying?" Danica asked, standing up straight, her brain feeling fuzzy.

"I'm saying, Costa Rica is really nice this time of year. It's the dry season, so there’s lots of time to lay on the beach."

"Yeah, must be nice for those of us who don't have work," Danica said, lying.

"Do you remember that year I went with you as your date to your work Christmas party? Before you started dating Eddie?" Kiera asked nonchalantly.

Danica raised a brow, confused.

"Somewhere around the third espresso martini, Annie and I became friends on Insta. We still message occasionally. Her grandkids are really cute. Anyway, I asked her to secretly figure out when you'd have a few days off, you know, just in case. She double-checked for me a few days ago, so I know you have the next six days off."

Why did Danica suddenly feel like Kiera was moving a chess piece across a board? She gave her friend a questioning look.

Kiera glanced at her phone. "Oh good. Izzy was able to reschedule her flight for later in the week," Kiera added. "She had a bit of a stomach bug this morning so she is going to meet Pete later. Poor Pete is going to spend a few days in Costa Rica all alone."

Danica frowned with a dubious expression. "Why are you telling me this?"

Kiera looked tentatively hopeful. "Look, I fucked things up in Telluride. And so did you, leaving without a word. Let's make it right."

"So, let me get this straight. Pete is sitting at DIA waiting to get on a plane to Costa Rica where she has a few days of relaxation, and Izzy is pretending to be sick so that she'd be there all alone? And now you're suggesting I... what... buy a last-minute ticket to Costa Rica and join her?”

"Maggie bought you a cheap ticket so you can get through security. It’s in your email.”

Danica let out a surprised laugh, shaking her head. “You’re all crazy.”

Kiera beamed.

“What makes you think Pete even wants to see me?" Danica asked, running a hand through her hair, exasperated.

"Listen, Dani. I know you're not... spontaneous," Kiera said carefully. "But I — we — think you will regret it if you don't at least try."

"And so even if she does want to see me, we spend a few days in Costa Rica together, which is still not real life, and then what?" Danica asked, her throat tightening with emotion at the thought of trying to make it work with Pete. At the thought of failing. Again.

"That part is up to you," Kiera said.

Danica shook her hands, feeling the familiar tingles of the beginning of a panic attack. "I don't... I don't know. I don't do well without plans."

"What would you tell me in this situation? Or Maggie? Or even Izzy?" Kiera asked calmly.

"I'd tell you to suck it up," Danica said automatically, then guffawed at her own words. "Oh my god. This is crazy to even consider. I don't have anything packed." Was she seriously thinking about doing this?

In all of her daydreams, Pete was the one who showed up to beg to try again. But maybe in real life, she had to be the one with the proverbial boom box. She'd never think of a plan like this on her own, but thanks to the imperfect, meddling, busybodies she called friends, she might have a chance at fixing things with Pete.

"Your mom packed your suitcase for you." Kiera's eyes were sparkling with amusement, her mouth twisted in a wry smile.

Danica picked her jaw up from off the floor. "But what about you? You showed up here to get moral support for your divorce, and I'd just be leaving."

Kiera looked slightly sheepish. "I'm not going anywhere. Alex isn’t fighting me on custody, and sometime when the divorce is final, the girls and I are moving to Denver to be closer to my folks and Aunt Jade. Actually, Aunt Jade is bankrolling the lawyer and the move. I'm going to spend this weekend house-hunting."

Danica was completely shocked. "Really?" She hopped up and down excitedly. "You're moving to Denver? Man, I love your Aunt Jade. Wait, do you have a teaching position here yet?”

"I have a few interviews. I'll figure it out. I know I want to be closer to my parents, but also you. If you want… that," Kiera added.

Danica moved around the kitchen island and wrapped her best friend in a hug. "Are you kidding me? I'd love that."

"Which means we have plenty of time to talk more about me and us later. If you want to make it to the airport on time, you'd better go," Kiera said.

Danica felt a rush of emotion and tears fall down her cheeks as she hastily brushed her hair out of her face.

"Are we doing this?" Kiera asked, standing and staring at Danica intently.

It was a terrible idea. It would never work. She'd make a fool of herself. She'd put herself out there only to face the worst rejection of her life. In public. Again. It was a gut-wrenching thought, the idea of standing there, exposed, heart on her sleeve, only to be met with pity or indifference. The humiliation would burn, sharper than anything she’d ever experienced. But it was more than that, wasn’t it? It wasn’t just about rejection. It was about the ache of unspoken words, the weight of everything left unsaid between them. The weight of everything she’d left unsaid by leaving without a goodbye.

And yet, Pete was worth it.

The chance to try again with Pete — the chance to really try — was worth it. Because Pete wasn’t just someone she had a crush on or some passing infatuation. Pete was… everything she hadn’t known she needed. The way Pete saw her, understood her in a way no one else had, the way they just fit. It had been too real to ignore, too important to just walk away from. And in the loss of connection that had stretched between them after she’d left, Danica had come to understand that more clearly than anything.

To try again meant facing all of her fears, all of the walls she’d built to keep herself safe from the mess of relationships and emotions. It meant putting herself in a position where she could either heal or break all over again. But what did that even look like? Did she want Pete to know everything? To know that she wasn’t just sorry for walking away but that she was terrified of feeling so much, of letting herself need someone in a way that made her feel vulnerable, out of control? Did she want Pete to understand that she wasn’t just asking for another shot at love — she was asking for the chance to be seen, to fully let in the one person who had always seen her.

Because that was what it all came down to: the chance to be seen. To be understood and accepted for all the parts of her she’d hidden away, for the fears and mistakes and all the jagged edges of perfectionism she kept locked up. And Pete, somehow, had already seen all that. Had seen her for who she really was, and still wanted to see more.

Danica swallowed hard. If she didn’t take this chance, if she didn’t step into that vulnerability, she’d spend the rest of her life wondering, What if? And that thought — that was unbearable.

Yes, she’d risk the humiliation, the rejection, and everything in between. She’d face it all if it meant one more chance to show Pete who she really was, what she really wanted. A fierce determination burned within her, a silent promise to herself. To try. To try again, and maybe — just maybe — make it right this time.

Danica composed herself, taking a deep breath. Her throat was tight with anxiety and her heart raced with excitement, but she was ready. "Okay, but I'm driving."