Chapter Three
Dax
The window rattling is real. I hope Morty’s safe. I spin around, taking in the small whimsical details of carved googly-eyed animals and translucent gummy bears sculptures. I’m here to immortalize her in my book and move on, but now I’m surrounded by her. I skim the first page and put it back down. Why was I nice to her? She ghosted me while I slept and never talked to me again. Christ, I’ve fucking missed all of her.
I’m not smooth verbally like Hayden or Law. I’m too filtered and reserved. My words are for paper and pen. I rifle through my backpack to find and overstuffed padded envelope full of Post-its, crumpled notebook paper, hotel stationery, backs of receipts and printer paper scraps. All the things scribbled to her over the years. Things I never knew how to say or where to send them, so I tucked them away. Even when we were just friends, I wrote to Monica. She left behind the lingering scent of sweet peas, and I try to ignore it.
I stare at the padded envelope. Then I lace my boots and bundle up for the snowy 150 feet to my destiny. I’m a fucking idiot who might die because I’ve got to know why this woman, who has imprinted my soul, doesn’t want me.
The ice bites my cheeks and there’s zero visibility. A thunder-like boom startles me as snow viciously swirls. I think of her smell, the feel of her skin and that damn throaty laugh as I trudge through the tornado of ice. Glass shatters, as a tree falls in a deafening crash through her roof. Now I only hear my heartbeat speeding up as I run.
I’m not this guy, but I become him to get to her.