Chapter 17 Collin
COLLIN
In twenty-four years of life, I’ve never brought a woman home to Mackinac Island.
Not in high school, not during my brief stint at college, not once.
Yet here I am, watching my breath cloud in front of my face as the ferry carves through the crystal-clear waters of the straits, with Iris bundled up beside me.
The December sun catches the fresh snow blanketing the island, making it sparkle like someone has scattered diamonds across every surface.
Thank God the straits haven’t frozen over yet— after four hours stuck on a plane from Seattle to Detroit, then another hour to Chippewa, Michigan this morning, the ferry ride is mercifully brief, but it gives me enough time to contemplate what’s waiting for us on shore.
Mom would try to play it cool, but I knew better.
And in a town where everyone knew everyone else’s business, bringing home a woman for the first time at twenty-four was bound to be the most interesting thing to happen since old Mr. Miller’s prize horse got loose and crashed the summer festival.
This would probably fuel the gossip mill straight through until spring thaw.
The ferry’s horn blasts, pulling me from my thoughts as we approach the dock. The massive boat slowly turns, ice-cold spray misting over the rails as the captain navigates us into position. Through the wooden posts of the pier, I can already see a few familiar faces pretending not to watch.
“Here, let me get that,” I say as Iris reaches for her suitcase. The same one I insisted on carrying through three airports this morning.
“Collin, you don’t have to—” she starts, a blush creeping across her already wind-kissed cheeks.
“I want to.” I reach for the handle, my own bags already slung across my shoulders.
After a moment’s hesitation, she let go, tucking a wayward curl back under her burgundy beanie.
Something in my chest tightens as I watch her small smile of acquiescence.
I doubt Owen had ever carried her bags, had ever thought to take care of her in these small ways.
The familiar scent of pine and wood smoke fill my lungs as we make our way up from the dock, our boots crunching in the fresh powder.
Snowmobiles zip past on the snow-packed streets, their drivers bundled up against the bitter cold.
A few familiar faces wave as they pass, and the steady hum of engines dispersed amongst the quiet makes me realize how much I’ve missed this place.
The air is crisp and clean, carrying that pure Michigan winter scent that smells exactly like my childhood.
Iris looks like she’s stepped out of a Hallmark movie in her olive green coat, wild curls framing her face.
Her cheeks and nose are pink from the cold as she takes in the Victorian architecture of Main Street, her eyes wide with wonder.
Watching her experience my island for the first time, I couldn’t bring myself to regret bringing her here, even knowing what we were walking into.
Two figures stand waiting at the top of the dock, and my heart squeezes at the familiar sight of them.
Mom is bundled up in her favorite red wool coat, a cream-colored scarf wrapped around her neck, her brown hair windswept with that signature silver streak catching the sunlight.
Even from here, I can see the bright blue of her eyes and the way the age lines around them crinkle with her smile.
Next to her, Hal cuts an imposing figure in his black winter coat, his salt and pepper hair neatly combed, his clean-shaven face breaking into a warm grin as he spots us.
“There they are,” Mom calls out, practically vibrating with excitement. She rushes forward, wrapping me in a tight hug first. “Oh, honey, I missed you.”
“Missed you too, Mom.” I laugh as she pulls back, squishing my cheeks between her mittened hands.
“And you must be Iris.” Mom turns to her, blue eyes sparkling. “I’m Julie, and I’ve been dying to meet you.” She opens her arms in invitation, and after a quick glance at me, Iris steps forward to accept the hug. A soft, disbelieving laugh escapes her as Mom embraces her warmly.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Iris says, her voice gentle and genuine. Hal steps forward then, pulling me into a firm hug.
“Good to have you home,” he says, giving me a solid pat on the back.
“Good to be home.” I grin wide, setting down our bags on the frosted, salt-covered dock and stretching my arms above my head.
“The flights weren’t too bad, I hope?” Mom asks, releasing Iris but keeping hold of her hands. “You must be freezing after that ferry ride. Here, let me look at you properly.” She steps back, beaming. “My God, you’re even more gorgeous than Collin said, and trust me, he talks about you plenty.”
“Mom!” I groan, feeling a line indent between my brows as Iris’s grin grows.
“What? I’m just telling the truth.” She loops her arm through Iris’s, innocently batting her lashes. After the flurry of hugs and introductions, Iris’s eyes catch on the line of snowmobiles nearby. She tugs her coat tighter around herself, brows furrowing slightly.
“We’re taking those?”
“Have to. No cars on Mackinac,” Mom says, her eyes twinkling as she adjusts her scarf. “Don’t worry, you can ride with Collin. Not that he’d let either of us drive you anyway, the big oaf. Gets that protective streak from Hal.”
“Seriously?” I pin her with an evil look, hands on my hips.
“What? Am I wrong?” She raises her eyebrows at Iris. “Has he let you drive anything since you met him?”
“I mean...” Iris glances at me, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You did insist on driving us to the airport at four in the morning.”
“See?” Mom gestures triumphantly. “Oaf.” I shoot Hal a pleading look, but he just shrugs.
“Hey, you’re the one who brought her home. I can’t be held responsible for how your mother acts. Come on.” He nods toward our pile of luggage. “Let’s get these bags strapped down before she really gets going with the welcome wagon.”
“I heard that,” Mom calls after us, already looping her arm through Iris’s.
Once the bags are secure, I swing my leg over the snowmobile and look back at Iris.
She’s eyeing the machine with equal parts curiosity and apprehension, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
The hesitant expression on her face makes me smile as I pat the seat behind me.
“All you have to do is hold on,” I tell her, watching as she raises one perfectly arched eyebrow.
“Mhmm, sure.” Her green eyes sparkle as she gives me that knowing look. “And having my arms around you is just a safety requirement, right?” Something about her sass never fails to get me. I lift my shoulders.
“It’s your choice, Pretty Girl. You can hold on tight or go flying off the back when we hit the first bump.
” With one last skeptical look, she carefully settles behind me.
Her arms circle my waist, but her touch is feather-light, barely there.
Perfect opportunity to prove my point now though.
I rev the engine, letting the snowmobile lurch forward a few feet before stopping abruptly.
She squeals and slams against my back, arms instantly tightening around me.
“You jerk!” Her hand smacks my shoulder, but her laughter warms me more than any winter coat could.
“Told ya,” I say smugly, grinning as her arms stay firmly wrapped around my middle.
Her warmth seeps through my coat as she presses close, no longer hesitant about holding on.
The familiar scent of her vanilla perfume surrounds me, and for a moment I’m back in her bed, holding her while she drifted off to sleep after coming home from O’Malley’s; memorizing the way she fit perfectly against me.
“Yeah, yeah, you made your point,” she mutters, but I can feel her smile against my shoulder.
“Just looking out for your safety.” I grin, easing the snowmobile forward at a much gentler pace this time, heading down the familiar path toward home.
Mom and Hal follow behind us on their own machine, and I can already imagine what they’re thinking.
But with her pressed against my back, fingers curled into my coat and that sweet laugh in my ear, I can’t bring myself to care about anything else.
The trail winds through snow-dusted pines, our path carved through packed snow that serves as the island’s winter roads.
When the house comes into view, my chest fills with that familiar warmth of coming home.
The green two-story looks exactly like it always has, complete with its white picket fence barely visible above the snow drifts.
A cleared path leads from where we park the snowmobiles to the front door, Hal’s handiwork, like every winter since I was a kid.
Mom whisks Iris upstairs to the guest room before I can blink, chattering about fresh towels and extra blankets.
I catch that sparkle in her eye as she leads the way and can’t help grinning.
By the time Hal and I haul all the bags inside, they’ve disappeared into the cozy bedroom at the end of the hall.
“Beer?” Hal asks, already heading for the fridge as I sink into one of the worn kitchen chairs. The familiar creak of wood brings back a thousand memories of late-night talks in this same spot.
“God, yes.” I accept the bottle gratefully, watching him settle across from me He takes a long pull from his beer, studying me over the rim of the bottle. “She seems nice.” Nice. Right. As if that even begins to cover it.
“Yeah, she is.” I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips thinking about her upstairs with Mom.
“That all you got for me?” His eyes crinkle with amusement. “Because that dopey grin on your face says otherwise.” I let out a laugh, shaking my head.
“What do you want me to say?”
“How about the truth?” He leans back in his chair. “You’ve been different lately. Even over the phone, I could tell. Happier.” The bottle feels cool against my palms as I roll it between them, trying to find the right words.
“She’s... I don’t know, Hal. You should see her on the ice. It’s like watching gravity not exist for her. And then off the ice...” I catch myself grinning again. “She takes absolutely none of my bullshit. Keeps me on my toes. And God, she’s fun. She’s addicting to be around.”
“Sounds like someone else I know,” he says meaningfully, and we both know he’s talking about Mom.
“Yeah, well.” I take another sip, letting the comfortable silence stretch between us.
“This wasn’t part of the plan, you know?
The whole show thing was supposed to be about fixing my image.
Learning some fancy footwork for the highlight reels.
Maybe prove to management I’m not the liability they think I am. ”
“And instead?” Instead, I find myself counting the hours between practices.
Instead, I catch myself watching her when she’s not looking, memorizing the way her face lights up when she nails a complicated lift or the little furrow between her brows when she’s working out a new sequence.
Instead, I’m sitting here in my childhood kitchen, trying to explain to him and myself how I managed to fall for the one person who was absolutely off-limits.
“Instead, I can’t stop thinking about her,” I admit quietly.
“Those moments when we’re practicing lifts, or when she’s laughing at some stupid joke I made, or when we get close and for a second I think maybe.
..” I trail off, beating my fist softly against the table.
“Sometimes I catch her looking at me, and I think maybe she feels it too. But then I remember this whole thing is just for the cameras, just for show, and I...”
“Son.” Hal’s voice is gentle, but firm enough to make me look up.
“I’ve known you since you were six years old.
I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you look at that girl.
” The words hit me right in the chest, because he’s right.
Whatever this is with her, it’s not like anything I’ve felt before. And that’s exactly what scares me.