Marie Ferrarella - The Maverick's Return

Unable to even breathe.

All she could do was stare at him in complete disbelief.

Slowly, she fought back from the emotional paralysis that held her in its grip, struggling to say something, a sentence, a word.

A sound.

“Hello, Anne.”

His deep voice rumbled, the sound echoing within her very chest, interfering with the beat of her heart, or what might have passed for a beat right now if it wasn’t as paralyzed as the rest of her.

Finally, with the inside of her mouth drier than the desert and swiftly turning into sand, Anne forced herself to say something.

Or rather, to say a word. A name.

His name.

“Danny?” she asked hoarsely, her throat all but closing up.

She saw a smile, that same faint, funny little smile she had loved so well, curve his lips just before he confirmed what she was asking.

“Yes, Anne, it’s me.”

The moment he said that, she felt them. Felt the tears that she had been harboring within her for the last twelve years, tears she’d forbade herself to ever shed, even once. She had been able to maintain almost superhuman control over herself, afraid that if she ever allowed herself to cry, to shed so much as a single tear, then there would be no way to stop the flow.

Twelve years’ worth of tears.

Anne bit her lower lip, desperately trying to prevent them from falling. Struggling to keep from losing the battle she felt she was doomed to lose.

And then she heard him hesitantly say her name again, the name he used to call her, when the world was so full of possibilities and their love was brand-new.

“Annie?”

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