Page 93 of Snowman

He missed her first day of kindergarten, the excitement in her eyes, the way she lit up meeting other kids. He didn't hear everyone say how kind, how wonderful she was.

And I hated him for it. Not because he left me, but because he left her. He chose to leave her.

But what broke me even more was knowing that if he tried, if he even made the smallest effort, I'd let him back in. I'd let him break me all over again. I forgot too often that she was the one who saved me after he walked away. She was the one in my arms on nights when I cried for him. She was the one who gave me a reason to keep going. She gave me hope, gave me life.

And yet, I named her after the man who chose to leave us both behind.

Snow.

THIRTY

SNOWMAN

If a single lookcould break a man, theirs would be the one. If a single sound could rip the soul clean out, it would be her cries.

I sat on the bench outside the café where she worked. I knew it well—it was mine. I knew she struggled after me, and it was tearing me apart to watch her from a distance.

She didn't know I was still around. That I cried when she cried. I smiled faintly when she laughed as if her happiness still had the power to reach me. She didn't know I stayed away because losing her made me lose myself.

She didn't know that I kept waiting. Watching her stare at her phone, like she was trying to work up the courage to press that number one on speed dial. I waited every time, hoping—foolishly—that she'd call. But the call never came.

I told myself I let her go. But deep down, I knew I never really did. And now, when I thought I was ready to let her see me again, I couldn't move. I couldn't face her.

If she knew my side of the story if she knew how much I waited for her, how I chained myself to the guilt every time she crossed my mind. How I made sureHEnever knew where she was.

I lost myself when I lost you, Bree.

If only you knew how many nights I looked up at the stars, wondering if they'd ever align again. Wondering if they'd bring us back together. Wonderingwhat if.

What if I'd just stayed? Would you still be here? Would she?

But this isn't my story to get a happy ending. It's yours.

Forgive me.

I sat on the bench outside her house, the icy wood biting through my jeans. The window light flickered off, leaving the house dark and still. I stayed, staring up at her window, hoping for just a shadow, a sign of her. Even a silhouette.

But there was nothing.

My jaw tightened, frustration knotting in my chest.

Another day lost. Another day without her.

A soft tap on my shoulder snapped me out of my thoughts.

"Why are you here?"

I turned, startled.

She stood behind me, her red pajamas poking out from under a long, heavy coat. It barely shielded her from the cold, and she was shivering. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her eyes red and swollen, like she'd been crying for hours.

"Bree?"

"Why are you here?" she asked again, her voice sharp but trembling. "What are you trying to do?"

I opened my mouth, but the words caught.

What was I trying to do?

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