I hated when he called me by my full name, even though I loved it, because only he called me Zoeanna. On any other day it would make me snap at him playfully and scoff, "Don't call me Zoeanna," I'd say. He'd kiss me and give me a look that said I was so full of shit. Secretly, I would be glowing with warmth. I think he knew that and that's why he did it. Not even my family called me that.
Pain tore into me at the thought of them. It'd been a week, to the day, and it still felt like only an hour had passed. It must have shown in my eyes because he moved closer, the rain that was pouring down on us glancing off of him and mixing with the tears I was steadfastly ignoring.
"Dont. Call me. Zoeanna." This time it wasn't playful. It was painful. And he sure as hell wasn't going to kiss me. I wouldn't let him.
His firm hands cupped my neck and I added the memories of them on my body to the rapidly growing list of things I was ignoring.
"Baby, please."
"Landon," I said. "I'm not going to change my mind."
His fingers tightened at the hollowness in my voice. I could tell that he was trying to get me to look him in the eye, but I wouldn't. I couldn't. If I did it would be my undoing. In the past, if he wanted something all he had to do was pull me close, like we were now, catch my eyes with his and ask. I would have done anything, everything, for Landon Walker. I would have given him the world.