Chapter 27
COLTON
Something is wrong with Missy. I glance over at her.
She’s curled up against her backpack that’s smashed against the airplane window as a pseudo pillow.
Her perfectly styled curls from the winners’ interview are thrown up in a ponytail as she sleeps through our red-eye back to Colorado.
My eyes take in her sleeping form, hoping that if I look at her long enough, I’ll find the piece to the puzzle I’m trying desperately to solve.
After the winners’ interview, Missy had done a full one-eighty.
I thought we’d executed our closing interview perfectly.
There may have been some awkward pauses here and there, but as a whole, we came across united and strong.
But the moment the spotlights shut off was the moment she shut off, too.
I’d followed her off stage, wanting to know why she’d look so …
defeated, but we’d immediately been handed matching Sunsets and Sabotage joggers and T-shirts and told to change before catching the shuttle to the airport.
We weren’t even given a chance to say goodbye to Bill and Maria, as they were in the middle of their own interview when we left.
Missy twitches in her sleep, and the thin airplane blanket draped over her body falls to her lap.
I pick up a corner of the blanket and pull it back up to her shoulder.
Is Missy worried about Maria and her injured leg?
Or is she sad that the show is over? For a moment, I wonder if Bill didn’t talk to her, but I distinctly remember seeing him talk with Missy right before the winners’ interview just like he said he would.
I sigh with frustration and lean my head back on my leather headrest, listening to Missy’s rhythmic snores. She has the prize money wired to her bank account and her dreams within reach. So why is she so off? Isn’t this all what she wanted?
After the interview, I’d peppered her with questions as we rode on the shuttle to the airport and sat in the terminal, but my inquiries were met with polite indifference and those dreaded words I’m fine.
Which meant she was absolutely not fine.
And as soon as we got on our plane and in our seats, Missy had curled up and fallen asleep before the plane had finished boarding.
I’ve spent the following hours wide-awake, fearful that, just like the pre-island days, Missy has put up walls again with no intention of letting them down.
Anxiety winds inside of me as our plane comes to a full stop at our gate at the Denver Airport. I thought we’d built a genuine friendship, but now I’m worried it’s disintegrated under the lights of reality.
“Missy,” I whisper, gently nudging her shoulder.
Missy groans, then readjusts her head on her backpack.
“Missy, we just landed in Denver. It’s time to get off the plane.”
Missy jolts awake. “What?” Frantically she looks around, then opens the airplane window shade. “Ack.”
She nearly hisses at the bright morning rays that manage to blind everyone in a ten-foot radius and immediately shuts the window cover.
Her eyes find mine, her lips lifting into a soft smile.
There she is. My heart lifts at the sight.
There’s the Missy I’ve come to know on the island with her smile bright and face open.
And, nope. It’s gone. Suddenly, Missy’s demeanor changes from light and soft to cold and hard, leaving me to ask myself, once again, what changed?
Missy stands and crouches beneath the seatbelt and no-smoking signs as she straightens her rumpled T-shirt with its giant Sunsets and Sabotage logo, and then she slings her backpack around her shoulders.
“You can walk forward now,” Missy says flatly, pointing to the passenger ahead of me who’s just exiting the plane.
My chest feels like a rock’s been wedged inside of it as we disembark the plane and head down the terminal corridor. At the risk of irritating her further, I attempt a conversation, asking Missy simple questions, though it’s nothing but short responses from her mouth.
“Are you sure everything is okay?” I ask again, bypassing any more small talk as we both step onto a downward escalator.
“Yep. I’m glad to be off the plane,” she says. Her words are friendly enough, but there is distinct ice behind her voice.
“Any chance you’d want to meet up tonight?” I ask.
Missy gives me a sad excuse for a smile. “I’m actually pretty tired. I’ll probably crash at home for the rest of the day.”
I swallow and tuck my hands casually into my pockets. “Oh, okay.” So, maybe she’s just tired, and rightfully so. It’s been an exhausting couple of weeks.
We’re almost at the bottom of the escalator when a loud, echoing cheer rises to greet us. Missy and I instantly turn toward the gathering of familiar faces that whoop and chant, “Team Teal, Team Teal, Team Teal!”
I look out, spotting so many of the same people that sent us off at the airport a couple weeks ago, but now, the crowd is double in size.
Ji, Paige, Jordan, and Miles are all there, along with neighbors, family members, old teachers, the bakers from our local bakery, members of the Pine Lakes law enforcement, and even some of the teenagers from Pine Lakes High School.
Missy’s face transforms with a beautiful smile, laughter bubbling out of her. Seeing her so happy makes me feel like I can finally breathe again.
Just then, my little cousin, Izzy, and the short and fiery Mrs. Delgado unroll a large hand-painted sign the size of an SUV that says “Welcome Home #MoltonForever.”
Molten? Oh no. Missy and Colton spliced together.
“Please don’t tell me that was a real hashtag,” Missy says.
I laugh and glance at Missy. Her cheeks are a touch pink as she looks anywhere but at me. As soon as we step off the escalator, she leaves my side, getting pulled into the crowd. Too soon, I lose sight of her.
Mrs. Delgado and Izzy move toward me with the huge sign in hand.
“#MoltonForever. It’s been trending for the past week. Isn’t it great?” Mrs. Delgado says enthusiastically.
I chuckle and scratch my head. “It’s something.”
“Oh, it’s more than something. I knew I made the right choice nominating you two for the show, but I don’t think even I could have foreseen just how good you two would be together.
Just let me know when you two hear the wedding bells I’m hearing.
I have experience planning those things.
” She gives me a wink, but I’m still processing her first words.
“You? It was you that nominated us?” I say, dumbfounded.
Mrs. Delgado pats my arm. “Oh, honey, someone had to do it. You two are fire, as the young ones would say.”
I shake my head in amazement, wondering if I should kiss Mrs. Delgado or file a restraining order on her. Oh, Missy’s going to die when she hears this. I look around, hoping to find Missy, when I’m pummeled by Izzy and her full head of bouncing black curls.
Izzy lets go of the sign, leaving her brother to pick up the slack.
“Hey, Izzy,” I say, giving her a hug.
“Is Mrs. Delgado right? Are you and Missy getting married? I want her to be my cousin. Or second cousin. Is that what a second cousin is?”
I laugh at the words that tumble from her mouth, words that until she’d worked with Missy were nearly nonexistent. Missy had really broken her out of her shell.
“All right, Izzy, let the man be,” my aunt chides, coming up behind her daughter and giving me a hug. “Congratulations, Colton. I knew you could do it.”
I breathe out a laugh. Well, that made one family member.
Shortly after, I find myself in an endless loop of hugging people and giving them my thanks for their support; all the while, my eyes gravitate toward Missy, finding her wherever she is in the crowd.
Jordan claps me on the shoulder, and I turn, fully facing him and Miles.
“Man, you have some explaining to do.” Jordan waggles his eyebrows.
Miles curls his lips in a mischievous grin. “Island life treated you well.”
It is clear to anyone within earshot that they are not referring to the game, but rather the blonde-haired, hazel-eyed girl that is currently being hug-attacked by her best friends.
Ji is just letting go of Missy when a pregnant Paige takes her place, jumping up and down, while tears stream uncontrollably down her face.
“Is she okay, man?” I say to Jordan, hitching my thumb toward his sobbing wife.
“Oh, yeah, Missy just gave her a banana leaf signed by Niall Bose. Happy tears.”
“Ah, that makes sense. In that case, you’re gonna need some tissues. She’ll be crying for days,” I say, remembering how much Paige cries when she’s extra happy.
Jordan pulls out a packet of tissues from each of his pockets. “I came prepared.”
I laugh. “You know her too well.”
As one, both Jordan and Miles home in on me.
Miles folds his beefy arms across his chest. “But seriously, you gonna tell us what’s going on?”
“Later, man. Later.” I need to figure out what is going on myself before I explain anything to anyone else.
Over Miles’s shoulder, I spot my father’s tall figure and ice-blue eyes. He makes his way through the crowd, my mother trailing right behind him in a blossom-pink skirt and blazer.
Anxious energy courses through me the closer Dad comes, but when he reaches my side, his actions catch me off guard.
A bright smile breaks across his lips before I’m fully encompassed by his arms. In a moment, I’m transported back to my childhood, before the days when Will left and I became the future senator.
I stand just outside the dugout after my peewee baseball championship game.
Dad sees me, then runs to wrap his arms around my small wiry frame.
“I’m so proud of you, Son. I’m so proud. ”
My eyes start to burn as I hear those same words nearly twenty years later.
“I’m so proud of you, Colton.” My dad. My dad is proud of me.
How long I’ve waited to hear those words again.
And not only is he proud of me, but he’s happy for me, even though he lost the bet and I’ll be choosing my own career path from here on out.
I can’t help the smile that pushes against my cheeks. I’d expected him to stay true to his word—a Downing always does—but this—this happiness, the joy in his eyes—is more than I could have ever hoped.
When I pull away from him, he gives my face a good look over and pats me on the cheek. “Looks like we need to pick you up a razor on the way home. You look scraggly.”
I’m so thrilled with Dad’s mood that his comment has little effect on me. Dad’s proud of me.
“Colton!” My mom opens her arms wide for a hug. I don’t miss the happy tears in her eyes as I go to fold her in my arms. “Colton, I’ve missed you so much. You did wonderfully.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Both Mom and I turn to Dad, only to find his eyes narrowed in on someone across the Pine Lakes welcoming party.
When I turn to see who he’s staring at so intently, I find that he’s looking in Missy’s direction.
A defensiveness builds inside me. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s seen our relationship grow into something more over the course of the televised season.
And maybe he didn’t like the on-screen kissing—I get that—but whatever his thoughts on PDA, they don’t merit the way he’s looking at Missy right now.
Dad’s eyes harden, and I stand there, confused.
Dad’s never been anything but kind, or at the very least cordial, toward Missy.
I’ve never seen him look at her like this, with the same disapproval he’s so often looked at me with.
But why? Whether he’s said it aloud or not, Missy’s always been the standard he’s held me up to, and for good reason. She’s perfect. She’s Missy Jean.
I glance back at Missy and realize her brow is furrowed and her mouth hangs slightly open.
I shift to get a better view of her through the crowd and find a lady I don’t recognize is talking to her.
The woman is shorter than Missy, her shoulders tense, her smile tight.
She looks out of place with her cowgirl boots, cut-off skirt, and a sparkly jacket that glitters under the airport lights.
But in that moment, I place her. This woman I’ve never met shares the same slender nose, the same hazel eyes, and the same golden-blonde hair as Missy.
Missy’s mom.
What is she doing here?
The urge to be by Missy’s side, to support her in this moment, overwhelms me, and I instantly start striding toward her.
A hand wraps around my upper arm, rooting me in place.
“Colton,” Dad calls, pulling me back toward him and away from Missy. There’s the faintest hint of trepidation in his gaze, but then he claps me on one shoulder with a firm hand, sporting a full smile. “You and I need to talk. In fact, we have a meeting to get to.”
My eyebrows rise. “A meeting?”
Why do I not like the sound of that?
“And there’s someone who’s come a long way just to be here for it, so I don’t think we should keep her waiting,” Dad adds.
A deep, unsettling feeling washes over me. Once again, his smile is unwavering. He’s happy. Too happy. And a meeting?
“What is this about, Dad?”
Without another word, Dad steps to the side, and a tall, slender woman wearing a form-fitting olive-green pantsuit with a cream silk blouse takes his place.
Her hair is slicked back in a stylish ponytail, and her eyes are bright as a familiar smile blooms across her face.
A face I’d said goodbye to at Yale just months ago. My ex-girlfriend.
“Jane?”