I did not expect to call Daniel Walton. I wasn't going to. I'd told my mother I would wait and see if time apart made him realize he didn't feel the way he thought it did. I opened my phone frantically after a single day, 24 hours of not hearing his voice. I tapped his name and listened to the ringing, four rings. For those four rings I was certain he wouldn't answer and I'd never hear his voice again.
I was wrong. I heard his voice on the tail end of that fourth ring and as pained as it sounded, I felt a sense of relief. I had called to talk about an emergency. Not about us. Not about losing him. Not about crying on the floor of my bedroom listening to Bruce sing Thunder Road.
That's exactly what we did though. We exchanged stories of hurt at the loss of each other. We talked through the pain of what felt like an unnecessary loss. We talked about how much we loved each other. Finally we agreed to meet. It would be the following day at that same park I'd lost him at. Something felt wrong and we intended to right it.
Through all of the hurt and disappointment of Danny giving up on us so quickly, I loved him. Danny was home. Always.
YOU ARE READING
The last time
RomanceThis is just another love story that goes wrong, because real love usually does. This time, the story just happens to be true. I thought I'd seen the boy I loved for the last time so many times that when I finally really did, I didn't know what to d...
