Chapter 3: The Snow Queen Chooses

A familiar face popped in—Travis, my best friend since middle school, always the first to drag me into trouble and the last to leave me behind.

Travis poked his head in:

"What's up? I heard Mariah can get married now. You so happy you went blank?"

He grinned, eyes wide with mischief, and flopped down on the bunk across from me. The room smelled faintly of pine-scented soap and old sweat.

"What?"

My voice came out hoarse, like I’d been yelling at a football game all night. I rubbed my eyes, trying to make sense of it all.

"Come on! After all that fuss, you don’t even know?"

Travis rolled his eyes, then leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, like we were back in high school plotting a prank on the principal.

He slapped me on the back, leaned in, and hollered in my ear:

"Your goddess—the Snow Queen of the Rockies—the dream of every guy in town—Mariah—"

He drew out her name, making it sound like a secret spell. The guys outside whooped and cheered, egging him on.

"She’s given up her status in the pack and wants to pick a husband from our crew—"

He paused for dramatic effect, raising his eyebrows like he was about to deliver the punchline to the world’s best joke.

"Tell me—if she’s not here for you, who’s she here for?"

He finished with a flourish, arms wide, waiting for me to jump up and start celebrating. The room buzzed with anticipation.

When he finished, he spun around,

grinning like he’d just handed me the keys to a brand new truck. The guys in the hall peeked in, waiting for my reaction.

Waiting for my ecstatic reaction.

They expected me to whoop and holler, to rush out and sweep Mariah off her feet. But all I could do was stare at the floor, heart pounding in my chest.

I looked like I'd just heard the worst news, face stone-cold.

My hands clenched into fists, jaw tight. I felt like the ground had dropped out from under me.

I muttered:

"No, I can’t see her again."

The words tasted bitter, like old coffee left on the burner too long. I barely recognized my own voice.

"You so happy you lost your mind?"

Travis looked confused:

"Weren’t you the one who liked her most? Following her around every day like a loyal puppy—no one could get you to stop."

He said it half-teasing, half-concerned. He’d seen me moon over Mariah since freshman year, always just out of reach.

It was true:

Everyone knew I had it bad for Mariah.

Even the lunch ladies joked about it. She was the girl I’d written songs for, the one I’d watched from across the gym at every dance, the name I’d scrawled in the margins of my notebooks.

She was the Snow Queen, pure as fresh snowfall, untouchable.

There was something about her—like she belonged to another world, too bright and cold for the rest of us. She moved through life like she was always a step ahead, always looking back at the rest of us with a gentle smile.

Even though she’d sworn up and down she’d devote her life to the pack,

I always thought—even if I could only look up at her, that was enough.

I’d convinced myself I was happy just to be near her, to catch her smile once in a while, to be the guy she trusted with her secrets—even if she never let me all the way in.

So when I finally married her in my last life,

—I was so happy I could hardly breathe!

I held her hand and toasted every guest at the reception.

We danced under strings of fairy lights, her laughter ringing out over the music. For a night, it felt like all the world’s sorrows had melted away, replaced by hope and promise.

Mariah was bumped by a kid running wild, and the pocket watch she always kept close to her chest tumbled to the floor.

She snatched it up quick,

her hands trembling as she brushed off the dust. I caught a glimpse of something etched on the cover, but she tucked it away before I could ask.

But I still saw it:

The pocket watch she treasured so much—one side engraved with a cross, the other side holding a photo of Ethan.

It was small, but it stung. I tried to ignore it, to tell myself it didn’t mean anything. But deep down, I knew better.

Back then, I didn't get it:

In Mariah's heart, Ethan sat right alongside her faith.

There was a kind of reverence in the way she looked at that watch, the way she held it close when she thought no one was watching. It was like a prayer she kept tucked away, just for herself.

How could I ever compete with that?

I took a deep breath and steadied myself.

The air tasted sharp, like snow on the wind. I squared my shoulders and forced myself to look Travis in the eye.

I met Travis's eyes and said:

"Do me a favor, brother."

My voice was steady, but my heart was racing. I needed him to understand—needed him to have my back, just this once.

Five minutes later, when Mariah walked into our unit, surrounded by everyone,

I’d already slipped out the back gate of the camp with Travis covering for me.

We moved quick, ducking behind storage sheds and slipping through the fence like we were sneaking out after curfew. My boots crunched on the gravel, every step taking me further from her.

So I didn’t see:

The once-distant Snow Queen, Mariah,

was actually smiling gently now,

and calling everyone’s name, one by one, like she’d known them all her life.

She moved through the crowd, her voice soft and sure. For the first time, she seemed truly present—like she was finally letting the world in.

You gotta understand, aside from God and Ethan, no one else ever really got her attention.

Her eyes searched the crowd,

like she was looking for someone in particular.

There was a kind of desperation in her gaze, a hope that made her seem almost fragile. The guys around her shuffled their feet, suddenly shy.

Finally, her gaze landed on Travis, and she lit up.

She hurried over and asked urgently:

"Travis, where’s Logan?"

Her voice cracked just a little, but she didn’t care who heard.

"Mariah!"

An uninvited guest suddenly burst into the camp, cutting her off.

The door banged open, and in strode Ethan—fresh from the city, his shirt too crisp for mountain life, cheeks flushed from the thin air.

He wore his usual city-boy poplin shirt.

He looked out of place, but determined. His eyes locked on Mariah, and the rest of us faded into the background.

He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, but there was a stubborn set to his jaw that told you he wasn’t about to back down.

He ignored the guys blocking the door, desperate to get in:

"Mariah, I heard from the elder you gave up your place in the pack?"

He blurted it out, breathless, like he’d been running the whole way here.

"I’ve been waiting for you, Mariah. Will you marry me?"

Before he could finish, his face changed completely.

The color drained from his cheeks, his knees buckled, and for a second, it looked like he might faint right there on the threshold.

His already unsteady body lost all balance,

and he toppled over.

"I barely touched him! Pretty boy, don't play dead!"

"I wasn’t even using any force! Pretty boy, don’t play dead!"

One of the guys laughed, but there was a hint of concern in his voice. Ethan scrambled to his feet, undeterred.

Ethan took the chance, broke through, and ran to Mariah.

He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his chest:

"Come with me, Mariah."

His words were soft but urgent, his grip desperate. He looked at her like she was the only thing holding him together.

The look was raw longing—like they were inseparable.

The whole room seemed to fade away. It was just the two of them, lost in their own world.