Chapter 18 Iris #2
“Yeah, it matters if you’re with that guy!
” Something shifts in my chest—irritation sparking where fear used to live.
“It’s none of your business who I spend my time with.
” My voice comes out sharper than intended, but it feels good.
Right. “Besides, it’s not like we’d be spending Christmas together as a family anyway.
You made it pretty clear your time with Jamie is yours alone. ”
“So you are with him. After everything I said about setting a bad example? Being a bad mother—”
“You’re wrong,” I cut him off, though my hands are shaking. Not from fear now, but from anger. How dare he? “And again, it’s not your concern.”
“I swear I don’t know how I tolerated you for so long. This is why we got divorced, Iris. Because you’re the most disobedient person I know. Always doing whatever the fuck you want to do.”
“How you tolerated me? Disobedient?” The words hit like a slap, but instead of cowering, I feel something rise up in me.
Something defiant and angry. I don’t know what comes over me.
Maybe it’s the fact there’s a phone between us and I can end the call whenever I want.
Maybe it’s the fact that Collin, who had the balls to slam Owen up against a car two weeks ago, is standing within ear shot.
Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m fucking sick of putting up with his shit for the sake of keeping the peace, when he doesn’t even know the meaning of the word, but I snap.
“I’m not a dog, Owen. I don’t have to obey you. You’re not my boss, not my dad, and you’re not my husband anymore. You. Don’t. Own. Me. And because it seems like you forgot, I divorced you!”
“You think you’re somebody special,” he sneers.
“But you’re not. I’ve seen the fucking stories—that guy goes through girls like candy.
He’ll discard you eventually. You’re an idiot for thinking otherwise.
” Something in my chest twinges at his words, but beneath it is a steadier truth.
The feeling of Collin’s hand in mine moments ago, the way he trusted me with his past, how he looks at me like I’m worth seeing.
“Stop calling me unless it’s Jamie that would like to talk.” I hang up, my hands trembling—not from fear or shame this time, but from adrenaline. From finally standing up to him. Collin’s hand lands warm on my shoulder.
“You okay?” I let out a shaky breath, oddly light-headed. I’ve never spoken to Owen like that before. Never stood up to him so firmly. Years of biting my tongue, of making myself small to keep the peace, and here, in this moment, I finally found my voice.
“Yeah,” I say, managing a weak smile, surprised to find I mean it. “I am now.”
The evening unfolds slowly after we return from the pond, thawing out in the warmth of Julie’s kitchen.
She fusses over us with hot chocolate and fresh-baked cookies, tutting about our red cheeks and frozen fingers.
Hal challenges us to a card game that turns into three, then four, his competitive streak showing as Collin wins hand after hand.
He’s adamant that Collin is cheating, which Collin completely denies even as he drops me a sly wink and shuffles the deck again.
Julie makes her famous pot roast for dinner, the kind that falls apart with a fork.
The conversation flows easily, stories and laughter passing between us like the warm bread she served with dinner.
Now, hours later, only the crackle of the fireplace breaks the stillness, Julie and Hal having gone to bed hours ago.
We share a thick knit blanket on the couch, and every tiny movement makes us brush against each other. His shoulder, his knee, the back of his hand. Each point of contact sending sparks through me that have nothing to do with the fire.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” I say, watching the flames dance. “Taking that call when you were sharing something so personal.” Collin shakes his head.
“Don’t apologize...” He hesitates, his jaw tightening slightly. “That didn’t sound like Jamie on the other end though.” I grimace, pulling the blanket tighter around me.
“No. It was Owen. He called to, well, to be Owen. He found out I wasn’t spending Christmas with my family and that I’d turned off my location sharing.
He was...” I pause, remembering his thunderous voice.
“He was demanding to know where I was, who I was with. Not that he has any right to know those things, but try explaining that to him.” I huff out a laugh.
Collin goes very still beside me, and I can feel the tension radiating from him.
His hand clenches into a fist on his thigh, then deliberately relaxes.
“He said some awful things about me as a mom,” I admit quietly.
“About how I’m setting a bad example for Jamie by being here.
I don’t know... sometimes I worry he’s right.
Like I’m just making a big mess of things. ”
“You’re not,” he counters, running a hand through his hair, ruffling the soft brown waves.
He says it so casually, like it should be obvious to me that I’m doing a good job.
That I’m a good mom no matter what Owen says.
“Kids notice who shows up for them,” he continues.
His arm presses against mine as he turns to face me, and I have to fight to focus on his words instead of the warmth of him.
“Trust me on this. My mom...”His lips press into a thin line.
“She did it all alone too. And yeah, sometimes she had to work late, or couldn’t make it to every little thing.
But she was there. She tried. That’s what matters.
” His eyes catch mine, sincere and warm.
“Jamie’s going to grow up and understand that you did everything for him.
That you were always there. Always trying. He won’t care what Owen has to say.”
God why does he say stuff like that? Can he tell my resolve is crumbling?
Can he see it? If I’m honest, I’m scared that despite this inexplicable warmth he makes me feel, maybe Collin isn’t the sun.
Maybe he’s a shooting star in my life. Brief, fleeting, sure to burn up my entire world, but damn it if I don’t want to reach out and touch him anyways.
Something cracks open in my chest, raw and wanting.
The firelight plays across his features.
The slight crook in his nose, the scar in his eyebrow, the way one corner of his mouth lifts higher than the other when he talks, how his eyes crinkle at the corners even when he’s being serious.
I like him. The realization steals my breath.
I really, really like him. Terror floods in immediately after.
Everything I thought I knew about love turned out to be wrong with Owen.
What if I’m wrong again? What if I’m being stupid?
Setting myself up to look like a fool. To get hurt.
Owen’s words from earlier still echo in my head.
That Collin will discard me eventually, that I’m an idiot for thinking otherwise.
But then Collin’s hand finds mine under the blanket.
Fingers lacing with mine. Warm and strong and real. Those thoughts fall away.
“Thank you,” I murmur and before I can overthink it, I wrap my arms around him in a tight hug, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.
When I pull back, his eyes are wide, lips slightly parted in surprise.
His hand comes up to touch the spot where I kissed him, like he’s trying to make sure it was real.
I’ve shocked us both. The fire pops, sending up a shower of sparks, and we both jump.
Our eyes meet, and my heart stumbles over itself at the way he’s looking at me, like I’ve given him something precious, something he wants to keep.