From Chapter 1:
“Tom?” I asked in a hoarse whisper, my stomach full of butterflies. It was still a little strange to call him by first name, even after all these years. Especially when everyone else at Royal Oaks High called him “Mr. Stevens.”
“Isabel,” came the familiar voice. “How are you?” His voice was gentle and deep. It soothed me instantly, the same way it had when I was fifteen. There was an edge to his voice tonight, though, and I sensed that there was something bothering him.
“Is something wrong?” I asked. I didn’t want to admit that I already knew exactly what it was; my high school graduation was coming up. It would bring an end to our current arrangement. We hadn’t talked about our future yet, but I had known that it was coming.
After a few pensive moments, Tom spoke.
“You’re my sweetheart,” he told me, his voice sad. “I can’t imagine life without you. I don’t want to have to imagine life without you.”
Tom rarely used terms of endearment with me, these days. When he did – in these rare moments when he called me his sweetheart – my heart melted. All of the turmoil, the sleepless nights, the protracted nature of our relationship, became nothing more than a passing inconvenience and very worthwhile. Tonight, though, I knew that the word came with drawbacks. They gave me the courage I needed to say the words I’d been dreading.
“My graduation won’t affect our relationship, you know that,” I told him. “Look at how much we’ve been through together. If we made it through all of that, we can make it through anything. Tom, I want to be with you always, no matter where life takes me after graduation.”
I spoke passionately, fully believing in what I said. I was absolutely devoted to this man. But somewhere deep inside, I knew I was being dishonest. Neither of us wanted our relationship to change, but it was clear that things were going to change, and soon. I had just been offered a place at a small, private liberal arts college on the East Coast. The choice had been difficult because although I wanted to stay close to Tom, I also wanted to move forward with my life. In the end, I accepted the offer. Tom hadn’t really reacted when I told him. It hadn’t affected our relationship. Now, though, the cracks were starting to show.
“I want to believe that,” Tom answered quietly. “I loved the last letter you wrote me. Every time I read your letters, I feel like I’m sixteen again. I feel like I’ve come out of a deep sleep.” A pause, and then, “I can’t lose you, Isabel. You’re the reason I wake up in the morning; I can’t love anyone more than I love–”
Suddenly I heard a distinct click on the line. My heart plummeted.
“Did you hear that?” Tom snapped, his tone suddenly terse. “Did someone pick up the phone at your house?”
“Hold on a minute, let me check inside.” I slipped back inside and listened, but the house was completely quiet. The kitchen phone was on the counter, my mom’s office was dark, and I was holding the only other phone in the house.
“Who picked up the phone?” Tom repeated, worry coloring his voice.
The click had not originated on my end of the line. I should’ve been relieved, but my panic rose even more.
“Tom,” I whispered into the receiver. “It wasn’t here, everyone’s asleep…”
“I have to go,” Tom interrupted abruptly. “Danielle’s coming.”
There was another click, and the line went dead.
