The first lie I told myself was that he was just an old friend. I wish it had been the only lie because the other lies would destroy us all.
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 always 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.
Contains mature themes.
