DEMI
My phone burns against my ear. "Ash…ton?"
His name barely makes it past my lips. It trembles there, fragile and disbelieving, like if I say it too loudly, this will turn out to be a dream.
"Demi." His voice drops with a tone that sounds raw and unguarded. "Tell me you're okay."
And just like that, something inside me shatters.
I don't realize I've stopped breathing until my chest aches. My fingers tighten around the phone, knuckles paling, my entire body going rigid as I'm trying to hold myself together.
It's him. It's really him. This is not a memory or a dream. It's not even the cruel echo my mind has been replaying in quiet moments when I miss him too much to function. It's really Ashton.
My throat tightens painfully. My lips part but no sound comes out. I want to say everything at once: that I'm fine, but I'm not fine. That I hate him sometimes but most times, I miss him so much it physically hurts. That I wish he were here with me.
