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 lettinggo 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 dadis proud ofme. How long I’ve waited to hear those words again. And not only is he proud of me, but he’s happy for me, eventhough 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 herthrough 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?
