Page 8 of Everything I Desire

“I don’t know, baby. I really don’t. I’m out of my depth here. I’m trying so hard but nothing I do seems to be right for her. She is refusing to get in the truck and go home, but she won’t tell me why.” He looks so defeated, so tired. I can't imagine she's made the last week easy on him.

I choose to ignore the fact he called me baby, a nickname I’d loved so much coming from him.

“Why don’t you let me take her for a burger, and I’ll bring her home later. She usually opens up to me, but not with other people around. She’s really embarrassed about how she’s grown up, and she’s really angry with you thinking that you gave up on her after you lost the court cases. I’m sorry to say that, but I think it’s part of the problem. She doesn’t trust you yet.”

“Right. Of course she would think that.” He balls his fists and spins around like he’s going to punch his truck before thinking better of it. “Fucking Maura. She probably filled her head with all kinds of shit. I tried so hard. I called all the time, I sent gifts, cards, money. I bet Maura took it all and tossed it except the money.”

“I’m so sorry, Porter. Let me help you by taking her now. Give her some space and I’ll try to get to the bottom of it. Give me your phone and I’ll enter my number so you can call me if you need her back.” This is such a mistake to insert myselfwith him again. My heart won’t survive when he leaves again.

He looks like he’s trying to figure out if he should give in so easily. I can almost see the war playing out in his eyes. He’s struggling with what to do.

“I still have it,” he states simply.

“Oh.” I give him a soft smile, but I don’t know how to take that. He’s kept my number all these years, but he’s never used it.

We stare at each other, standing in silence at the back of his truck while the music softly thumps from my car. The tension in the air is palpable. The need to reach out and touch him is so strong.

It appears he feels the same when he wraps his free arm around my waist and pulls me to him. Our lips are only an inch apart, but he’s not moving any closer. Waiting for me to make the final distance. “Porter, I - I can’t.” I place my palms against his chest and push back lightly.

He releases me and rubs his hand over his face. “I’m so sorry. I don’t -I shouldn’t have done that. God, your husband, or boyfriend would probably be ready to kick my ass for that. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t have a husband. Or a boyfriend,” I whisper quietly. I’m not sure why I felt the need to clarify that for him. I sure as hell shouldn’t be feeling like I want him to fill the role.

“You’re- you’re single?” he stutters.

“Yeah, Porter, for ten damn years.” I say as I turn back toward my car and Kayla. Leaving Porterstanding behind his truck. The anger taking over, trying to protect myself from getting hurt again.

I take Kayla to the diner on Main Street. Darlene has owned this diner since I was a kid. Her son is taking over some of the cooking and introducing new recipes, they’re usually amazing. But he also puts a spin on the classic comfort foods making them even better.

Tonight he has a special of Shepherd's Pie with a mushroom gravy. My mouth waters at the thought, but this situation calls for pure comfort food. A burger and fries.

Darlene comes over to the table, no notepad needed for her since she’s been serving this town so long she can probably tell what we’re going to order before we order it.

“What can I get you two gals tonight?” She beams at Kayla. One thing I really appreciate about this town is their need to take care of their own, especially when the rumors aren’t great.

We order burgers and milkshakes. Darlene walks away, looking at me with sad eyes from behind Kayla. Being the eyes and ears of this town she is the first to know anything that happens, next to Mr. and Mrs. Smith, the general store owners, so obviously she knows about Kayla’s situation.

“Ok, spill it girl.” I say facing Kayla, who has successfully avoided answering any questions by starting a car concert up to this point.

“Ms. Harper, I - it’s nothing. I just don’t like being there. Plus, what? I’m just supposed to like trust him?” She fidgets with the straw wrapper.

“Nope. Not buying it. I know how you feel, but I want to know why. From what Stacey says, your uncle has tried to clean up the place, and make it a real home for you.” I stare at her, raising my eyebrows so she knows I’m not giving up.

“Yeah, how do you know Uncle Porter anyways?” She smiles, thinking she’s avoiding the question.

“Not till you answer my question, then I’ll answer you. We can do a question for a question.” And I will. I'll tell her whatever she wants to know because she knows I won’t sugarcoat things or lie to her. And her curiosity is going to help me figure out what’s going on.

“Fine. But only because I want to know why he couldn’t stop looking at you today.” She raises an eyebrow at me, and I know in that moment, she’s going to be ruthless in her questions.

“I don’t want to go back because Mom’sbuddieskeep showing up demanding to know where she is. Uncle Porter just started working at Mr. Ronnie’s shop while he’s here so he’s been leaving after dinner to finish up a project. He likes to be home for lunch and dinner with me, but sometimes he goes back to the shop after dinner. He always invites me but I don’t want to go. But, that’s when they showup. After dinner, looking for their fix or their money. Mom must have been dealing.” She won’t make eye contact with me. I know this is so hard for her. She’s been dealt a really crappy hand in life.

“Oh Kayla. Why didn’t you call me, or tell your uncle? I’m sure Porter would be understanding and fix the situation. He could call the police.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought we said question for question?” She smirks.

“Ugh. Fine. You drive a hard bargain. I know your uncle because we went to school together. We’re the same age.” I breeze over our actual past.

“Hmm. Okay, I didn’t tell him because he’s working, and if I tell him he won’t go to work when I’m home and honestly I like having food in the house, and someone to cook for me instead of me being inventive with what we have. I don’t want to trust him, but he is a better parent than my actual parent. Now, you’re leaving something out. What is it?” She nails me with a stare, telling me she’s determined for the real answer.

---