It was starting again. You and your mom just didn’t see eye to eye. You were in a semi-rebellious stage and your mother was so strict with you. You two would yell at each other, neither one of you truly meant any of the angry words you said. Everything happened in the heat of the moment. And before you even knew it, you were running out the door, your mother’s words echoing in your head, “Just leave, just get out of my house!” And so you did.
You were running and running, not thinking, just running. And before you even realized where you were going or why, you found yourself on his doorstep, ringing his bell. You didn’t have to think about it, but you were here.
Dalton answered the door, grinning, “Emmy!” but his smile quickly faded into a frown when he saw your tear-stricken face. “Emmy, what happened?”
“My mom, she,” you had to pause to catch your breath, “kicked me out,” you choked out. And in that moment, your body was racked with sobs as your knees buckled and you found yourself crying uncontrollably. Dalton’s arms were around you, holding you, and guiding you inside his house as he closed the door behind you and simply let you cry over his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, because he didn’t have to, he knew that all you needed was someone to hold you, someone to comfort you, someone to listen. And so he did. He held you as you cried. He comforted you in your heartache. And he listened to you as you told him everything.
And that was all you really needed. So you stayed at Dalton’s house for hours, snuggled up against his chest where he held you and gently stroked your hair, wordlessly letting you know that were loved.
After awhile, you had stopped crying and you looked up at him. “Thank you.”
He smiled back down at you and gently cupped your face with one hand. He didn’t say anything, because he didn’t have to. You already knew.
