Chapter 18 Iris
IRIS
The warmth of Julie’s kitchen wraps around me like a blanket as I watch her flit between cupboards, pulling out mugs and hot chocolate mix.
She hasn’t stopped smiling since we arrived, hasn’t stopped including me in every conversation, every moment.
It’s so different from the cold silence of my own childhood home that I almost don’t know what to do with all this. .. love.
“More marshmallows, honey?” She doesn’t wait for my answer before dropping another handful into my mug.
Her bright blue eyes sparkle with genuine joy at having us here.
At having me here. I’m saved from getting emotional over marshmallows when Collin appears in the doorway, already bundled up in his winter gear.
“Ready for that tour I promised you?”
“Where are you taking her?” Julie asks, but her knowing smile suggests she already has an idea.
“The pond.” Collin’s eyes meet mine, warm brown like melted chocolate. “Brought your skates, right?” I can’t help but laugh.
“Yes, Collin. I brought them. Packed them after the fifth time you asked me to.” His grin is unrepentant as he hands me my coat.
The cold air nips at my cheeks as we step outside, and I burrow deeper into my thick wool scarf.
My mittened hands are already missing the warmth of that mug, but there’s something magical about the way the winter air feels crisp and clean in my lungs.
The snow crunches beneath our boots as we set off, pristine white blanketing everything in sight.
The walk through Mackinac Island feels like stepping into another world.
Each Victorian home we pass looks like a gingerbread house dusted with powdered sugar, their bright shutters peeking out from under snow-laden eaves.
The snow muffles everything except the gentle swoosh of our steps and the occasional jingle of bells from passing horse-drawn carriages.
The whole island seems frozen in time, like a snow globe someone’s just shaken.
Wisps of wood smoke curl from chimneys, and every window glows with warmth, creating pools of golden light on the untouched snow.
The path we take winds through a cluster of towering pines, their branches heavy with snow.
Each step takes us deeper into the quiet of the woods, where the afternoon light filters through in golden streams, catching snowflakes as they drift lazily down.
The sounds of the neighborhood fading away until all I can hear is the soft crunch of our boots and the occasional whisper of wind through the trees.
I sneak glances at Collin as he leads the way, watching how naturally he moves through this space that clearly holds so many memories.
He looks different here, somehow. More relaxed, more himself.
When he turns back to make sure I’m keeping up, the sunlight catches his eyes, turning them to warm amber, and my breath catches in my throat.
It’s moments like these that make it harder to remember why I shouldn’t notice these things about him.
The way his whole face lights up when he smiles, how his laugh fills all the quiet spaces around us.
“Almost there,” he says, ducking under a snow-laden branch and holding it back for me.
Such a simple gesture, but it adds to the growing warmth in my chest that has nothing to do with my winter layers.
“Watch your step here, it gets a bit steep.” His hand reaches back to steady me as we navigate down a small slope, and I try to ignore how natural it feels to take it, how perfectly my mittened hand fits in his.
This is exactly the kind of thing I’m supposed to be avoiding.
These quiet moments where it becomes harder to pretend this is just for the show, just for the cameras.
But out here, surrounded by the hushed beauty of winter woods and Collin’s quiet presence beside me, all my carefully constructed rules feel as fragile as the icicles hanging from the branches above us.
The frozen pond appears through the trees, a perfect oval of ice nestled in a natural clearing. A rustic wooden bench sits at its edge, worn smooth by years of use.
“This is my spot,” Collin says, leading me to the bench. “Hal built this when I was eight. Said I couldn’t keep sitting in the snow to lace up if I was gonna practice here every day.” I sit beside him, pulling on my skates.
“You’ve been skating here that long?”
“Yeah.” His smile is private, like he’s remembering something.
“Spent more time here than anywhere else growing up. Mom used to bring me hot chocolate when it got dark. Had to drag me home most nights.” We step onto the ice and begin skating in lazy circles around the pond together, the late afternoon sun turning everything to gold.
We skate in lazy circles, our blades carving patterns in the pristine ice.
“Hal taught me everything here,” Collin says, executing a perfect stop.
“Hockey, obviously, but more than that. How to be a good teammate, stand up for people, fix things when they’re broken. ”
“He seems amazing,” I say, matching his pace.
“Changed my life.” Collin’s voice grows quiet. “Sometimes I wonder who I’d be if he hadn’t come around.”
I glance at him. “What do you mean?”
“He’s not actually my dad,” Collin admits. “Not even technically my stepdad. He and Mom never married. But he’s been there since I was little. More of a father than my real dad ever was.”
“And your real dad...”
“Left when Mom told him she was pregnant.” He shrugs, but I can see the old hurt in his eyes.
“Used to drive me crazy as a kid. Worked myself to death at hockey, thinking maybe if I made it big enough...” He trails off, shaking his head.
“Like he’d suddenly want to know me then.
” My heart squeezes in my chest like a fist. I can’t imagine someone not wanting to know him.
He’s amazing and warm and kind and so damn good.
The thought of anyone walking away from him is unfathomable.
How could anyone know him, even for a moment, and choose to leave?
I stop skating and he slows, turning to face me.
“He’s missing out,” I say softly. Collin’s cheeks flush pink, and he ducks his head.
“I don’t know about that.” I grab his hand, squeezing it tight, needing him to understand.
“Well, I do. And he is. How anyone could choose to not have you in their life...” I swallow hard against the lump growing in my throat, so hurt on his behalf.
He stares down at me, head cocked to the side, studying me as intently as I’m watching him.
I scan his face in seconds, those warm brown eyes that hold so much kindness, that crooked smile that makes my heart stumble.
“I’ll never understand it.” One corner of his mouth hitches higher than the other.
“Funny,” he says quietly, “Hal used to say the same thing.” He’s quiet for a moment and we stand there hand in hand, neither of us moving.
“One time, I’d had this huge fight with Mom about him—my dad.
I was thirteen, and angry.” He pauses. “ About everything. About him leaving, about not knowing who he was or why I wasn’t.
..” He trails off, shaking his head as he pulls me with him and we continue skating in slow arcs along the ice.
I wonder if it’s easier for him this way.
To talk about things while he’s occupied with skating, to keep his mind as distanced from that past as possible while he relives it.
“I came out here to reset. Drilled myself for hours until I could barely stand. Hal found me. He was just my coach back then. Instead of telling me to go home, he got on the ice. Started playing against me, pushing my buttons, making me work harder. He was better, faster, and I was already so mad...” I watch his face as he remembers, the way his eyes go distant.
Golden-orange rays of sunlight, streaking across his face through the branches.
“But that was the point,” Collin continues softly.
“He gave me somewhere to put all that pain. Let me feel it, but also showed me how to let it go. Told me I didn’t have to live in my father’s shadow.
That I could step out of it anytime I wanted. I just had to choose to.”
Looking at him now, strong and steady and so incredibly kind despite everything, I know which choice he made.
And God, am I grateful for it. The moment hangs between us, his vulnerability, his past laid bare in the golden light of late afternoon.
Then my phone buzzes in my pocket, shattering it.
I pull it out, already feeling guilty for the interruption as I glance at Owen’s name lighting up the screen.
“I should take this,” I tell Collin apologetically, heart squeezing at interrupting such a raw, intimate moment. “It might be Jamie.” He shakes his head and smiles, the easy grin splitting his face.
“Don’t apologize for that,” he says. “Talk to your kid. Tell him I say hi.” He skates a few yards away, giving me space, and my chest warms at his thoughtfulness. But as soon as I answer, that warmth vanishes.
“Where the hell are you?” Owen’s voice slices through me like a blade, making my stomach clench.
I can picture his face, pinched and red as he hisses into the phone.
“Your mom says you’re not spending Christmas with the family?
And you turned off your location sharing?
” I turn slightly away from Collin, heat creeping up my neck.
“I’m on vacation,” I say quietly, trying to keep my voice steady, mortified that Collin has to witness this. Watch me stumble over an explanation that Owen doesn’t even deserve.
“With who?”
“Does it matter?” The words come out small, practiced from years of trying to avoid his anger.