The Mother Road (12 page)

Next to her little makeup station is a framed picture of her mom. My heart breaks in two thinking about Marley getting ready for prom without her mom, only a framed picture to keep her company.

Without thinking, I walk over to the picture and pick it up. Memories of Mama McMann surround me as I stare at the same blue eyes Marley was blessed with. Marley likes to say she is just like her dad, but I beg to differ. Marley’s creative and vivacious spirit come from her mother, as well as her nurturing tendencies and smart mouth.

“I miss her. She would have been over the moon about us going to prom together,” I laugh.

Marley stands next to me, holds on to my arm and stares down at the picture as well. “She would have never let us leave the house because she would have wanted more pictures.”

“We would have appeased her.”

Marley looks up at me and nods. “We would have.”

Carefully, I put the picture back on the desk and wrap my arms around Marley, hugging her tightly, never wanting to let her go. “Your mom would be so proud of the woman you’ve become.”

“You think?” The questioning tone in Marley’s voice makes me pull away so I can see her expression.

“Of course. You have a bright future ahead of you.”

Nervously, Marley looks at the ground and says, “I got an internship in California to help at an up and coming beauty magazine.”

The announcement surprises me for a second. When did this happen? I knew she was thinking about going to college in California but I didn’t think she made a decision yet. This internship pretty much sealed the deal if she took it.

Knowing I need to put on a good face, I grip her arms and smile brightly at her. “That’s great, Marley. Congratulations.”

Her face lights up from my praise and before I can hold onto her forever, she pulls away, runs to her closet and pulls out a set of teal suitcases. She pushes them at me and practically dances around the room in excitement.

“Look what dad got me as a graduation present, new luggage. He said if I’m going to be living in California and working for a beauty magazine, I have to travel in style. Apparently my old travel suitcase I used to bring on our road trips wouldn’t be sufficient.”

Excitement and joy surround her as she shows me the compartments of her new suitcases and she tells me all about her new endeavor moving across the country to live under the sun in warm California.

She goes into great detail about her new school, her dorm room, and all the fun and exciting opportunities she will have by moving out to California. The entire time she speaks of her new adventure, I slowly and painfully die inside. With every shot of excitement that passes over her eyes, a dagger digs deeper and deeper into my heart, causing a trickle of sorrow to run through me.

What am I even doing here? Marley has a future ahead of her. She has opportunity, plans, and goals she wants to accomplish. I have nothing besides a steady job working on her dad’s farm. I’m a twenty-two year old man with zero education and work experience that rivals Old McDonald’s.

By being here, I’m only messing with my own heart but worse, I’m messing with hers. What would happen if I stay? If we go through with my fantasy of fulfilling my wildest dreams with this woman whose stolen my heart.

Only heartache and confusion will come from tonight if I see this through. Marley deserves better than to be with someone like me. In the back of my mind, I know that if I stay, if I worship her the way I want to, she will want more from me. Easily I could hand over my soul to her but I don’t want it to ruin her plans for the future. I don’t want her to give up anything because of a possible chance there might be something long lasting between us.

I want her to live her life. I want her to leave this small town and make something of herself. That’s why I find myself planning an escape route.

“You’ll visit me, right Porter?”

‘What?” I ask, still in a daze of shock.

Her big, beautiful eyes pierce through me. “You’ll come visit me in California, right?”

“Oh.” I rub the back of my neck. “Yeah,” I lie.

“Everything okay?”

Confusion sits in her gaze and because I’m a masochist, I pull on her arm and bring her in for a hug. Her arms wrap around my waist and I kiss the top of her head, taking in her scent one last time. I feel gutted, sick to my stomach, on the verge of breaking down and crying in her arms but I hold it together as she pulls away.

“I’m going to, uh, run to the bathroom real quick. Make yourself comfortable.” On her tippy toes, she presses a quick kiss to my mouth before she takes off for the bathroom.

The minute her bedroom door clicks shut, I grab the strands of my hair and pull on them as I look around her room. I have to leave, by the look in her eyes, things are going to heat up quickly.

With a huge knot in my stomach and regret eating me alive, I tip toe out of her room, down the stairs and out of the house. I go straight to my little shack of a house, pack a bag, and write a note to Bernie that I will be helping out his friend Thomas for a little bit on his farm.

Not looking back, I get in my truck, stuff my bag in the back, and turn on the old automobile, praying Marley doesn’t hear me.

Like the coward I am, I drive off into the dark, away from the one person who I know I will never be able to get out of my system. Marley McMann is made for me, our souls are entwined, it’s a shame our paths are going in two different directions.

Little did I know, I wouldn’t see her until four years later.

CHAPTER SEVEN

**PORTER**

There is nothing appealing about sharing an RV with two other men. Basically, we are all sleeping in a box on wheels, breathing in each other’s air, farts, and burps. It’s vile, and to top it off, I had to sleep on the bitch bed because no one takes Bernie’s bed, and Paul was still crying over his beer and said that stealing his bed would have pushed him over the edge.

I want to say the light floral smell coming off the pillow from Marley’s perfume made my night’s sleep better, but that would make me a liar. Truth, the pillow made me horny as hell.

Last night was a breakthrough in talking to Marley. I knew she was still holding that night against me, and rightfully so; I know what I did, how I destroyed her, but I would still stand by that decision today because it got her out of our small town and out into the world to do what she wanted to do. It might have hurt like a son of a bitch to say goodbye to her, but it was for the best.

My back is aching and my dick is practically pounding against the zipper of my jeans. Yeah, I didn’t take them off because, once again, I’m in a tin can with Paul and Bernie, sleeping in my underwear almost seemed like one step away from a sausage fest. And as much as I love Paul and Bernie, I’m not about to slap swords with them.

The bitch bed is really made for someone who isn’t built like a barn. I’m over six feet tall and have a chest span that would make any football player jealous, thanks to my long days on the farm. Fitting comfortably in the bitch bed is impossible, which could explain my aching body.

Needing to stretch and get away from Paul, who seems to be leaking liquid ass on an around the clock service, I slip my shoes on and walk outside. The cold air hits my bare chest, waking up all the sleepy bones in my body. I stretch my hands above my head and look around. The road is quiet, the village is void of humans, and there are birds chirping in the background. I scratch my chest and thank the heavens above for the fresh air, as I turn to survey Marley’s room.

My morning pee is itching to be released and I contemplate going back in the RV to piss, but the thought of passing Paul’s ass on the way to the bathroom is unbearable, so I walk over to Marley’s wigwam and hope she’s awake.

I knock on the door and dance in place as I wait for her to answer. I don’t hear anything on the other side of the door, so I knock a little harder.

“You’re disrupting my flow!” she yells, as she unlocks the door and opens it.

I’m greeted by a frustrated Marley in a pair of short spandex that almost look like underwear and a small sports bra. Her entire body is practically on display and all I can do is stare. I can feel my body flush from the mere sight of her and I worry my morning wood will come back at the most inopportune time.

I rub my beard as I try to remember what I’m doing at her front door.

“What do you want?” Her hand is on the door, holding it open, and her hip is cocked to the side. Her toned stomach is flexed, showing off the hard work she must put in at the gym. Little Marley McMann is all grown up.

I clear my throat and point at her bathroom. “Toilet? Can I use it?”

She rolls her eyes and steps to the side. “You know there’s one in the RV, right?”

“Bothering you is more fun.” I take off to the bathroom while she shuts the door.

Quickly, I close myself off in the tiny bathroom and undo my pants. I’m sporting a semi, and for a small moment, I consider taking care of it, but then think otherwise. Knowing Marley, she would barge in on me whacking it, plus I don’t think I could be that fast, no matter how horny I might be from Marley’s stupid pillow.

After I take care of business, I look in the mirror while I wash my hands. I might still be young in my twenty six years, but I can feel my age starting to catch up to me. There are laugh lines on my face that apparently make me look more dignified, but to me, they are little life creases that have adhered to my face. My eyes are slightly bloodshot, which I will blame solely on Paul’s ass. You can’t sleep in a room for that long and not become infected by his toxic fumes. How Marley survived the first night is beyond me.

My hair is askew and I think about flattening it with some water, since I don’t have my red hat to cover it up, but don’t because Marley would know I tried to tame it down. No doubt in my mind, she would make fun of me, so instead, I walk out of the bathroom looking like I ironed my hair to one side of my head.

I’m rubbing my eye with the palm of my hand when I realize what is in front of me. Marley is bending over, ass up, legs together and hands on the floor. Her spandex barely covers her girly bits and her flexibility is a talent to be praised. From her bending over position, she steps back and tilts her ass further in the air, while making some triangle position with her body. I think they call the pose something with a dog, but all I can think of is doggy style, which of course leads to me thinking about taking Marley up against the wigwam walls.

“So, you just do all that stretching and stuff?” I ask, rubbing the back of my neck and trying to control the drool that is filling up in my mouth.

She looks at me from over her bent shoulder. “Yeah, you have a problem with that?”

“No, it looks nice.”

Marley huffs. “Perv much?”

“Who, me?” I ask, scratching my chest now, willing my hands to stay in the northern part of my body.

“No, I’m talking to the Native American style rocking chair. Of course you.”

“I’m not a perv. I’m just trying to take it all in. Thinking about doing some stretches myself.” I kick my right foot back and try to grab my ankle for a quad stretch but fail miserably, falling to the side and catching myself before I face plant it into the lamp on the nightstand. “Still waking up, my legs are a little shaky.” This time, I hold onto the adobe wall and stretch my quad again. Second attempt is a success.

“What, exactly, are you doing?”

“Stretching, like you.” I do single leg squats while stretching my quads, wishing the burn in my muscle wasn’t turning into a rapid fire. “Love my stretches, see not a perv.”

“I’m doing yoga, Porter. I’m trying to get my flow in before I start my day.”

“Oh, yeah, me too.” I release my leg and it practically slams into the ground as if I just let go of a tight ass spring. Maybe I should stretch more often.

I stretch my hands above my head then grab ahold of the bathroom frame so my body is parallel to the wall. I need all the help I can get in the balance department.

“Do you do leg swings? I love leg swings.” With the leg I didn’t just snap in half with my stretch, I swing it in front of me and then behind, slamming it right into the Native American rocking chair, which kicks across the room and straight into the wall. A loud snap, crackle and pop echo in the wigwam, and for a second I think it’s my crotch that fell to the ground from the impromptu groin stretch I wasn’t expecting, but when I see Marley’s hand cover her perfect little mouth, I know it’s not my crotch.

Rocking chair down.

“Is your leg made out of lead? Jesus, Porter, you just annihilated the chair with one flick of your canon leg. The poor thing didn’t even stand a chance.”

I turn to see the crumpled up rocking chair blasted into pieces. A Steve Urkel moment comes over me and I’m tempted to point and say in a nasally voice, “Did I do that?” But I refrain, wanting to keep a tight hold on my man card in front of Marley.

“Poor craftsmanship.” I shrug my shoulders.

Marley crosses her arms over her mouth-watering chest. I stare, straight up stare at her boobs. I’ll admit it, I stare, and for longer than I should…I just can’t seem to peel my eyes off of her. She’s sexy, she’s sensual, she’s a tight little pocket of sassy and sweet. We’re supposed to be just friends, but if she ever gave me an inkling of anything more, I would hop on that train and ride her fucking caboose like I was the conductor. Choo, choo…um, actually, let’s forget I even said that. I can see you raising the douche card. I revoke my sound effects; please don’t hold it against me.

She assesses me with those cobalt blue eyes of hers. I stick my hands in my pockets and rock on my feet, trying to keep my eyes above her chest level.

“You don’t do stretches or leg swings in the morning; you were just being a perv.”

“Was not?” I lie, picking a fight as if we were in elementary school.

“Was too, Pervy Pervison.”

“I don’t have to take this abuse.” I push past her and head for the door.