Fat Girls Return

50. Vulnerability

Twice in one day?? That's unheard of. 😂 Love y'all. ♥️

Elle's P.O.V

Dax shows up to the surf shop this morning, his energy cloudier than usual. I make sure to smile and say 'hi' before allowing him space to process his thoughts. Keeping my distance isn't hard; Dax shuts himself in the office the first few hours while I work alone. Thankfully, it's a slow morning so I don't mind too much.

My gaze wanders to the office door more than a few times throughout my shift as I worry about him. I want to ask him what's wrong when he decides to show his face but I'm not sure he'll respond well to that. We've gained a certain level of comfort with one another, but it's new and fragile to say the least.

Dax emerges in time to cover my lunch break – I've been switched to 9 hour shifts instead of 4 since we're still missing Shelby. I offer a quiet smile, moving to write on the old-school clipboards Mr. Nasher uses to calculate our hours. Dax seems calmer; more sad than angry as he nods subtly, stepping aside so I can leave.

I stare at the microwave while it heats my Lean Cuisine meal, startled out of my thoughts when it beeps harshly. I grab the hot tray, hissing through my teeth with instant regret as my fingertips burn. I abandon the tray momentarily, rushing to the sink to run cold water over my hand.

The faucet squeaks as I turn it off a few minutes later. I head towards the microwave, unfazed when I hear voices in the store. By the time I've sat down to eat my food, the tones have hardened, volume rising just enough to peak my anxiety. I stand up, hesitantly walking toward the break room door.

I open it slightly, peering through the narrow gap as my pulse quickens.

Dax is standing at the front counter, visibly upset. His arms are crossed, blood heating his face slightly as he regards the person I can't see with what I can only describe as a hateful look. Rage radiates off of him in waves. I find myself regretting the decision to open the door though I'm now too on edge to close it. Taking my eyes off of the obviously tense situation feels impossible; signs of potential violence aren't something my brain can ignore.

My pulse races as the voices rise again. The second person is clearly a man, his voice talking angrily over Dax's. Dax takes a step backwards, so small I almost miss it. His expression is hardened, anger and hatred the only emotions clearly displayed.

At first, it scares me, the stiffness of his jaw and popping veins in his arms reminding me of my dad's worst moments. Then, my anxious stare settles on his eyes, hyper observant as my flight-or-flight instinct starts to kick in. The hatred in his gaze is masking something else, something raw. I notice the tiny swallows he hides as his Adam's apple bobs ever so slightly, the minuscule shifts in his body language that subtly place him farther away from the man yelling at him.

My heart pangs at the realization as I open the door further; the man on the other side of the counter looks almost exactly like Dax but 20 years older. His skin is darker and his black hair is trimmed short, a tightly coiled layer compared to his son's looser curls. This man is his dad, and Dax is afraid of him.

"I don't accept excuses, son!" Mr. Nasher is yelling, spit flying from his mouth as he continues his display of irrational anger over the apparent mishap that happened this morning. "You're going to leave this store right now and go fix your mistake. You will stay outside through the night if you have to! I want those flowers planted by morning! Your mom would have a stroke if she saw what you did to her flower bed!"

Dax's mask remains mostly intact, but I see what those words do to him. His jaw clenches, breath hitching slightly as he replies, trying not to show the raw emotion his dad's just unleashed. "I'll leave as soon as the cashier is back from her break," He says tightly.