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About Tomorrow...
I close my eyes as I hear him speak. I take one very long and deep breath hoping to calm the immediate butterflies that take flight in my stomach and hope to slow down the racing of my heart. The voice was slightly deeper but the timbre was one that was achingly familiar.
My actions did little to help, but then who was I kidding? A deep breath wasn't going to fix the effect he had on me and my body's inevitable reaction. Even the memories that would forever haunt me couldn't keep my emotions from triggering at the nearness of him once again.
I used to pray that I'd find the strength to move on from him, from the pain that the end carried, from the emptiness in my chest, but ultimately move on from—the loss of Creed Sullivan and the death of his sister, Cora.
The Sullivans had been the best part of my summers in New England.
Deep down, I knew my ache for all that I had lost was the reason I returned...
But I hadn't expected to see him again—especially not like this.
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Creed had put on a pair of faded jeans and a vintage Def Leppard tee shirt but he’d not brushed his hair. It worked for him but then Creed was the kind of sexy that could wear anything and still turn heads. As a little girl, I’d loved playing with him and as a teenage girl I had fallen in love with him.
“Hello,” I said so softly- it was almost a whisper.
“Their coffee is shit,” he said as he walked toward the kitchen.
I turned my gaze back to the fire. Pretending like we were strangers was difficult. Once there had been so much I wanted to say to him. I’d wanted to ask him why? What had I done wrong? Why had he turned on me without a reason?
Now, he was here. We were in the same room and I had no words. I couldn’t think of one thing to say.
I heard him in the kitchen and as much as I wanted to not care that he was here my body was attuned to his every move. Maybe it was my nerves or uncertainty. It couldn’t possibly be more than that. His footsteps were soft and I realized he must be barefoot. The cold wouldn’t affect him like it did me. He was a New Englander.
He sat down in the chair across from the sofa and his gaze was on me. I didn’t want to look at him. The fire was less confusing and unsettling. I didn’t have to pretend with the fire. Creed however was a different story. How did he expect me to act like we were strangers when there was so much in our past?
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Abbi Glines is a #1 New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of the Rosemary Beach, Sea Breeze, Vincent Boys, Field Party and Existence series. She never cooks unless baking during the Christmas holiday counts. She believes in ghosts and has a habit of asking people if their house is haunted before she goes in it. She drinks afternoon tea because she wants to be British but alas she was born in Alabama. When asked how many books she has written she has to stop and count on her fingers. When she’s not locked away writing, she is reading, shopping (major shoe and purse addiction), sneaking off to the movies alone, and listening to the drama in her teenagers lives while making mental notes on the good stuff to use later. Don’t judge.
You can connect with Abbi online in several different ways. She uses social media to procrastinate.
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