Back to Yesterday
by Pamela SparkmanPublication Date: May 2, 2016
Genres: Adult, Historical, Military, Romance
Purchase: Amazon
Everyone loves a good love story. The stories that make you feel warm all over. The kind that leaves you the slightest bit envious because the story belongs to someone else and not you. The stories that make your heart race and on the edge of pain and pleasure. Pain because your heart hurts and pleasure because your heart hurts. An unlikely combination, yet, that’s the stuff good love stories are made of.
Ours could have been like that. We could have made a beautiful love story.
But when he was ready for that epic love story, I was afraid to fall in love, too hurt by my past to trust anyone. Then, when I was ready for the epic love story, he was gone.
And I was alone.
And the only thing I got was the pain.
It was time I told him the things that were in my heart but too afraid to say out loud.
But when he was ready for that epic love story, I was afraid to fall in love, too hurt by my past to trust anyone. Then, when I was ready for the epic love story, he was gone.
And I was alone.
And the only thing I got was the pain.
It was time I told him the things that were in my heart but too afraid to say out loud.
I wrote the letter I needed to write and prayed it wasn’t too late.
Dear Charlie,
You were right. I was wrong. I’ve never been more wrong in my life.
There – I said it.
I’ll say it a million times if you just come back to me.
Come back to me. Please!
There – I said it.
I’ll say it a million times if you just come back to me.
Come back to me. Please!
I was so wrong. I do love you.
Sophie
Excerpt:
I don’t know how long I stayed
curled into Charlie’s chest while he soothed away the ache, or how long the
storm lasted. I don’t know how long it
took him to carry me the six blocks to my house, or how long he sat with me
while I drifted in and out of sleep on the sofa. I don’t know how many times I felt his touch,
or how many times I heard him say…I love
you.
But I do know how many times I
wished I could have said it back.
Or maybe I couldn’t. It was an infinite number.
When I awoke, Charlie was asleep
on the floor beside the couch with a blanket and pillow I could only assume he
had gotten from my mother. I watched his
chest rise and fall and I matched his breathing patterns, breath for breath. Inhaling and exhaling, keeping time with
his. An invisible force, an
unexplainable connection, tethered my heart to his, and I hated it and loved
it.
“He refused to leave,” someone
whispered.
I sat up and spun around to find
the voice. My dad sat in one of the
armchairs across the room. “He refused
to leave,” he whispered again. The
streetlights that filtered in through the window illuminated his face enough so
that I could see the tilt of his head and the compassion in his eyes. I opened
my mouth to respond, but he echoed the same words again, only this time he
added, “Hear what I’m saying, baby girl.
He…refused…to…leave.”
This time, the words knocked the
breath out of my lungs. “Dad,” I
choked.
“He refused to leave,” he
repeated. Each time he said it, it was
quiet, unassuming, yet relentless.
“Stop,” I begged.
“He refused to leave.”
“Dad.”
“He refused to leave.”
A fat tear rolled down my
cheek.
“He refused to leave.”
“You have to stop,” I
pleaded.
Dad went quiet and I silently
thanked him for the reprieve. I laid my
head back down and folded my arm over my eyes.
“Go back to sleep, baby
girl. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I listened until his footsteps
had carried him upstairs and I let out a shaky breath. Years of hurt had managed to catch up to me
that night and I didn’t know why. I had been numb to it, putting all of my
emotions into a box and keeping the lid closed, and now that lid had been
opened, I desperately wanted to slam it shut, lock it away in a closet, and
throw away the key.
I lay there for a while trying to
unravel how I had become so unsteady, however, my swollen and puffy eyes grew
heavy and sleep was fast approaching.
I was just dozing off again when
I heard a whisper in the dark say, “I refused to leave.”
About Pamela Sparkman
I grew up in Alabama and have always been an avid reader. The older I got the more in love with books I became. So, I’m admitting that I am sort of a nerd. The only reading I don’t like are those math word problems. And I’m okay with that because no one has ever asked me in real life… “If I give you two bananas and take away six apples, how long will it take the southbound train to collide with the northbound train if Johnny left his house at midnight?” It just doesn’t happen. So, yeah, books are my thing. Oh and music. All kinds. Love it!
Sem comentários:
Enviar um comentário