Page 98 of The Snowflake Effect

Another yawn, a scratch of his neck, then the guy holds out a computerized pad for me to sign.

He lumbers to his van, and I walk back to my apartment, box in hand, turning it over. There’s no return address. No hint to what’s inside. I close my front door behind me, grab an X-Acto knife from my kitchen drawer, then pry the cardboard open.

My stomach plummets.

Fighting for control of my motor skills, I examine the DVD inside, knowing precisely who sent it. The Terminator’s dark imagery—black leather, sunglasses, and gleaming gun—screams Kolton. Like everything these days. I can’t go into a convenience store for fear of seeing a PEZ dispenser. I can’t look at word games, dictionaries, puzzles, or pottery without my throat burning as Jackson’s sweet face fills my mind.

I can’t eat McDonald’s.

There’s no note in the box, but no one else would send me an action movie. I glance outside my window in case Kolton is hiding behind one of the maple trees, watching me fall apart. No long-haired man is in sight.

It’s been over a month without a peep. Forty-nine days, during which I dissected every conversation we had, every sexcapade, wondering how I missed the signs of his fear, how badly losing Marina had scarred him. In the end, the signs don’t matter. No one can force Kolton to risk his heart. Or force me to get over him.

The question is, why did he send me a DVD now?

I stomp to my computer and stuff the disc into the optical drive, hoping he didn’t tape over this with some gross porn. Or a how-to-ski lesson.

Pulse racing, I hit Play and quickly learn it’s just the stupid Terminator movie.

But why? Why would he send this to me now?

Uninterested in playing his games, I reach to eject the thing, but a name is spoken by the characters. A very specific name.

Connor.

Even more frazzled, I hit Pause.

Toronto’s Snow Show convention is starting soon. He must know Lily invited me to go and see the accessories she designed. I’m aware he’ll be in attendance, too, and have been stressing over seeing him. Did he send me this to make things less awkward between us?

I should toss the disc. Watching it will only open festering wounds, but my curiosity wins. I need to know why he gave me that ridiculous nickname.

Unfortunately, as I watch the movie, my irritation builds. Does he think I’m a damsel in distress in need of saving? With bad eighties hair? Is that why he called me Connor? But by the end, when the credits roll, I lie on the couch and stare at my ceiling.

Sarah Connor wasn’t weak; she fought back. She became a feisty, badass, take-no-prisoners woman who fought for her life. She absolutely rocked.

And Kolton called me Connor.

My phone buzzes with a text, startling me.

Lily: Come to O’Day’s. Raven’s on her way.

The last thing I feel like doing is putting on my social face. Recently, all I’ve done is decline any attempts the girls have made to get me out, shooting down invitations to bars and out shopping. Here I strike again.

Me: Can’t make it. I’m tired.

Lily: But I really need to talk to you. There’s a lot going on. Stuff with Kevin. Please come.

Not much I can say to that.

Me: I’m on my way.

I walk into O’Day’s—a shitty-ass pub in a shitty-ass part of town—and I loiter at the door. To say this place is ten years past a much-needed makeover is being kind. Instead of doing my Etch A Sketch thing, erasing the stained green carpet and spindly wooden chairs in my mind, I shove my hands into my pockets.

The girls are in a booth, laughing, something I haven’t done since Kolton walked out of my life. Sighing, I plod to the corner booth, pull a chair from a table, and sit at the end.

Lily pats my knee. “I’m glad you made it.”

“Yeah,” Raven says. “I’m surprised your apartment door still opens. Another few weeks, and I’d be coming by with an axe.”