Sommer Marsden's Blog, page 109

bits 4 and 5...

of my upcoming hunk. I mean...paranormal cover.

Last night was interesting. Here I am trying to go off to bed and the next thing you know there are five cruisers out front, a guy walking down the middle of the road doing the drunk test in the pouring rain, a tow truck. Ah...city life.

Morning. Coffee and then plant store. Just call me Farmer Ted.

XOXO
Sommer

Get me for free...

My story "The Fourth Arch" is a free read on Good Vibrations Magazine. Awesomeness with awesome sauce!

XOXO
Sommer

Why so blue???

'Cause I wanted it that way. Peekaboo highlights. No, really. That's what they're called. Sometimes...what blue? Then I move my head and OMG...blue!

:)

Wanderlust part 59 "I'm not that bendy"

Don't forget, yesterday was a fucktastic mess here at UF. If you last left Johnny in the shower and Really ushering Charlie out, read #58 before you read *this*.

Off to get blue streaks in my hair. BLUE. STREAKS. WOOHOOO!

You might see me later, but don't expect any more Wanderlust until Monday. This here is the last thing written. Heh. ~~~~>

Wanderlust
part 59
by Sommer Marsden

"Get me out of here," I said.

It was a mission now. To leave this place behind. I tossed my stuff in my bag as he gathered his. He eyed the stain on the carpet and I snickered.

"I gave the maid your turkey."

That earned me a wry grin. He definitely was feeling pain since I hadn't told him I loved him too. Maybe he was worried that I didn't. But to really tell him properly, I had to have that moment where I couldn't not say it. I didn't want the first time I said it to a man, and meant it, to be tainted by anger or hurt.

"You mean to throw out, right?" he laughed.

"No. As her lunch."

There was a genuine bark of laughter from him then. He winked at me and dropped to the bed, holding his head for a moment.

"Headache?"

"A bit. Not bad. Not as bad as you'd think. I just feel like an ass. And yeah. A little headache."

"There wasn't anyone…while you were gone. I mean, you didn't—"

"There was no one but me and Jack Daniels, Really. I promise."

He was a mess, but he wasn't a liar.

I nodded, relieved. Both because I needed one and because I needed a break, I said, "I'm hopping in the shower and then we're hopping in the car. Right?"

"Right."

"And we will finish up in Utah and then on to Nevada."

Where you can really party…

"Right. Before we hit Nevada, I want you to see something, though."

"What?"

"I'm not telling. Go on," he said. He waved me off.

I cranked the hot water and stood there. It was half reward, half punishment, I think. If there'd been a phone in the bathroom I would have called Bren. Instead, I had to council myself.

"When you're not angry anymore you'll tell him. When you feel better. You will not lord this over him or withhold affection. You will not use emotions as a weapon or any of that bullshit."

I blew out a sigh, rinsed my hair and cut the water. As an afterthought, I added, "Om…"

"Who are you talking to?" he called.

"Myself. Coming!"

"Again?"

That made me laugh. "You wish!" I called.

When I opened the door, he was standing there. Filling the doorway and bigger than life. "It could be arranged."

"I just want to leave," I stammered. But the look in his eyes shot through me like a burst of heat.

"You're all wet." He traced his finger from between my breasts, down my belly to my navel. The muscles there flickered at twitched at the soft stimulation.

"I am," I said. My voice a puff of air in the foggy bathroom.

"Just one more for the road?"

I started to move past him and he stopped me. "Johnny?"

"Hold the door frame," he said.

"I'm not that bendy," I said, smiling.

He dropped to his knees and nudged my knees apart with his hands. "You don't need to be."

He leaned in and kissed my belly, right above my mound. His tongue lapped beaded water from my hipbones and when he leaned in, basically on hands and knees, and pushed his lips to my pussy, I grabbed the door frame so I didn't fall.

I wanted to say something, say anything, but nothing would come out. So I just sighed and watched his shadowed scalp as he moved between my legs. His tongue tracing my outer lips to expose and nudge my clit. He sucked it in, licked it with the flat of his tongue, sucked it in, and licked again. He never repeated the pattern and I was dizzy with anticipation.

I was off edge, spinning, falling, eager for more. His fingers dipped inside of me, thrusting deep and then curling to my G-spot so a heat spread through my womb and my cunt gripped him tight.

The heat felt like it touched my toes, my face, my fingers. I felt like white light and electricity. I let my head fall back and pushed my hips forward and opened myself to his probing mouth and the slippery goodness of his thrusting tongue.

When I came, he kept right on going. His big hands trapping my knees so they stayed locked to hold me up. He kept going even as I said, "Stop—oh, stop—too much, too much, too much…"

He kept going when that bled into, "Don't stop. Right there. Again."

The way he sucked my clit, the pressure and then the teasing sweeps all came together to push me back over into another fierce orgasm. My body jittering like I was dying. My face flushed with pleasure, so hot I could feel the red stain of blush on my skin.

I dropped my hands to his head and stroked it. I let myself find his shoulders and when I did bend-fall-fold forward to him, he caught me.

When he kissed me, he tasted like me. And him. He tasted so fucking sweet.
*****

"Now I'll get you out of here," he said.

We carried our stuff down to the car. On the way to the highway, we passed the bus station. I thought of Charlie Russo and his apparently ignorant girlfriend. I thought of too many beers and bad bar food and a man who acted like an ass when all was said and done. But acted like an ass for me.

I thought it was possibly the most dysfunction holiday ever. And here I'd thought it would be the first semi-normal one.

Maybe your normal is dysfunction…

That made me laugh. Struck me as so fucking funny that I had to wipe my streaming eyes as I laughed.

"Want to share?"

"Not really. I am just…well, at the moment I am happy. If there is such a thing in my life," I admitted.

The landscape turned alien. Utah is a crazy place. Johnny put his foot down as we hit a wide open stretch of road and I watched gorgeous splashes of nothingness drift past. We were running from that, our first Thanksgiving together, which was good.

Because what a mind fuck it had been. I wasn't' sure I'd ever eat turkey again. Not that I'd even eaten it this year.

He put his hand on my leg and squeezed. It was familiar and that alone made it exciting. "So what do you want me to see?" I asked.

"You'll see," he said.

"Well…duh."

And then I was silent, watching the road and singing along.

We were born before the wind. Also, younger than the sun. Ere the bonnie boat was won as we sailed into the mystic…

STAY TUNED...

Wanderlust part 58 "You are an asshole"

Due to a blogger outage this ran on my brand-new escape hatch...I mean back-up blog. I'm putting it up now so that all of Wanderlust is present in one place and for those of you who I had no way to contact. The remainder will obviously run here on my blog. If it happens again though the back-up blog is sommermarsden.wordpress.com

From 8 a.m Friday the 13th...

Due to blogger being down part 58 will be posted her now and on blogger later. Author's Note at the end:
Wanderlust
part 58
by Sommer Marsden

Johnny had curled around me and covered me with his giant flannel shirt. We both slept on top of the coverlet and he was still out like a light when I roused.

"Jesus."

I could smell the turkey. Not rancid, or anything, just the smoky slightly greasy smell of cooked meat in a small room. I pulled his big arm off me as gently as possible and moved away from him.

Okay, so he freaked out. Raise your hand if you've never done that…

I stuck my hands in my pockets.

That's what I thought…

"Shut up," I said to my own prattling mind. I found a plastic bag to scoop up the meat and then another to dump that bag in. I took it out to the hallway where a maid happened to be pushing her cart.

"Where can I throw this out?" I whispered.

She put her hand out. "I can take it."

"Leftovers never work if you don't have a fridge," I said, smiling. Trying to explain.

She shrugged. "They have suites, only a few, that have kitchenettes if you're staying," she said, giving me another shy smile.

"No thanks. We are out of here as soon as humanly possible."

This made her laugh. "I hear ya. Not much longer and you'll be in Nevada. Then you can party."

She turned from me and pushed her cart on to the next room.

"Thank you!" I stage-whispered and popped back in my room.

Nevada. Then you can party…

I studied Johnny who had since sprawled on his back like a bear sleeping in the sun. "I can't love you," he said without opening his eyes.

I jumped a little. I'd thought he was still asleep.

I sighed. "I know."

"It's why I ran. I just felt like I was going to burst into flames. Or break something. I was going for the state line. Was going to just go. Then I pulled over and tried to just chill out, maybe doze a bit. I was wired and tired and freaked out. And all I could think…"

He put a big hand over his eyes though he'd yet to open them. I waited. Silent.

"All I could think is God how I wished you were there. By my side. How I wished you were with me."

"So you found a bar?"

"And did my best to drink 'em dry."

I nodded. Stupid, really, how he'd come back. With a turkey, no less. I shuddered to think what kind of road Russian roulette he'd just played. Not just for himself but others. And when he really grasped it, more self-directed anger would be on the way. I was sure of it.

"I can't love you," he said again.

I frowned at him, determined not to cry. "So you've said."

He opened his eyes and craned his neck to look at me. "But I do, Really. I do love you."

Stupid but true, my knees unhinged and dumped me on my ass. One minute I was standing, the next relief and shock and surprise so swift and brutal rushed through me my knees bent and I was sitting.

He sat up. "You okay?"

"I am," I said from the floor.

"Do you hate me?"

"Yes. But I'll get over it."

"Do you—"

I shook my head. Yes, I loved him, but I wasn't happy with him right now. I was angry and hurt and enraged and all that bullshit that comes with big emotions and big mistakes. "Don't," I said. "I can't make it my job right now to make you feel better, Johnny."

"Will you at least come here? Will you come here to me?" He held his hand out and I found some strength in my watery legs to get me there. And then it was a matter of falling against him and letting him hold me.

I wanted to be angry and withhold affection and make him suffer and all that. But that is how I used to be. That was what I used to do. If I had any shot at real love. Human-person-who-is-willing-to-put-their-neck-on-the-chopping-block kind of love…it couldn't all be about manipulation and childish games.

"Jesus God," I said. It was a sob not a statement. "I was so—scared."

"I know."

"And hurt."

"I know."

"And angry and lonely and incapable of fucking breathing," I went on.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You should be."

"I am."

I pulled back and looked at him. Funny, I didn't really notice I was crying until he was wiping my cheeks dry with his hand. "Johnny, you have to—" I shook my head and sucked in a shuddering breath.

"What?"

"You have to stay now. You cannot run again. You have to promise me."

"I promise."

"We'll figure out all this shit. We'll examine it and dissect it and poke it with a stick…or just let it be. Whatever. But you cannot bolt on me again."

Not now that I've found you. Not now that I've had a taste of what I can feel for a man. Even being able to forgive a man…what a mind-fuck…that was the part I did not say aloud.

"I won't."

"Because that's it. No matter how much I—"

He looked expectant and hopeful, but I wasn't there yet. I couldn't give him that yet. Not yet. "No matter how much I might be hooked on you. That will be that. I never wanted anyone in my life—not really in it. where it's all dirty and messy and embarrassing and stupid. But I let you in. Please…don't leave me again," I said. Thinking of my mother and how I felt when she died. I was trying hard to breathe.

"I'm right here. Lesson learned. I'm an asshole."

I thought of Fallon. I thought of him leaving me. "You are an asshole."

He looked stricken but accepting. His face a hard mask of self-control.

"But you are a good man who just happens to have asshole moments. And I—"

I failed again. Couldn't say it.

"And I'm okay with that," I finished weakly.

He kissed me then. Putting his hands in my hair and holding me tight. His mouth apologetic, demanding and needy all at once. He kissed me harder and rolled me in one swift motion, peeling off the gray leggings I'd pulled on.

His body was warm and hard and he smelled like soap from the night before. It wasn't rough sex, or hurried sex, or power play sex.

It was honest sex.

He buried his face at the juncture of my neck and shoulder and I guided his cock into my willing body. I was wet and ready. I was hungry for it. I parted my legs, arched my hips, took him in and made a sound low in my throat that sounded both docile and aggressive.

We moved together, no talking. No dirty words or chit chat. And when I got so fucking close to coming I thought I would cry, I spoke.

"Tell me you love me again," I demanded.

His hands trapped mine above my head. Holding me tight but not hurting me. His teeth traveled my jaw, my throat, biting a line of heat all the way down. He had gone still and he pulled back to look at me.

There was fear in my throat then. A great choking wad of it. His eyes met mine, he studied me, still filling me, not moving as my body beat like one big pulse. Ready to come or laugh or cry. Maybe all of it. I waited for him to retract his confession. To change his mind.

He said, "I love you, Really."

I was the one to move up under him, to force him into motion. But still I didn't return his profession of love. Not yet. Not even when my orgasm and his orgasm met head-on and we were both falling back into it—surrendering. To each other.

STAY TUNED...

Author's Note:

Laugh if you must but this is the song playing in my head as I wrote this two days ago. You can take the girl out of the 80s but you can NEVER take the 80s out of the girl...

I am coming soon!

(((Heh))). And click it, it gets larger. (((Heh, again))). Soon I will be part of the RP fam!

Wanderlust part 57 "I'm a coward"

Ugh. Jeep pooped out again. So I have upset man, surly boy child and chipper girl here in the house. And blogger wouldn't load. So...sorry am late! I forgot what else I was gonna say, so we'll just move forward. Shall we?

XOXO
Sommer

Wanderlust
part 57
by Sommer Marsden

"Really, Really, Really…"

It was a sing-song voice. The kind that always set my nerves on edge. But I recognized the voice and before I even opened my eyes, my heart leapt. But then it fell.

I looked up so see a bleary-eyed, clearly shit faced, giant bald man waving what looked to be a turkey breast at me.

"What. The. Fuck?" I rolled away from him and sat up. The clock on the nightstand—that was bolted down, thank you very much—read 12:47.

"I brought turkey," he said.

I could hear the slippery slide to his voice and the exhausted look in his eyes. I was torn. I wanted to fix it for him and I wanted him to suffer.

"It's not even Thanksgiving anymore," I reminded him. My voice its own little roller coaster, rising up high before cracking and plunging back down.

"I'm sorry," he said and dropped the turkey to the ugly stained carpet.

Rage. It was all I had. Bright silver and sharper than any steel. I actually took a swing at him. Something I had never ever done before in my life. I took that swing and it was stupid and sloppy and damn if he didn't just stay there—leaning over me—and let it glance off of him. For that's all it really was. The equivalent of a child kicking Mount Rushmore in a fit of anger.

But he took it.

I had never ever even thought to hit my father—I'd expected nothing of him. When he let me down it was expected. I had never had those thoughts toward my mom, even as a teenager. And when she let me down—when she left me—it hadn't been by choice.

But Johnny had let me down and he was…the first person I had trusted in forever and a day. Since I had taken Bren's harsh and dominant and totally cherished friendship. Even Jackson had let me down by marrying me when he knew I didn't want it. But he did. And he chose my father and himself over me. The woman he claimed to love.

"I'm sorry," Johnny said again and dropped to his knees. It was like watching a building get razed.

"I—"

"I'm a coward," he said and put his head in my lap.

Christ.

I was so mad at him. I did not want to make him feel better. I did not want to give him solace. I wanted to give him bruises, not comfort.

"I—"

"Really, I ran. I ran. I woke up and saw you and when I saw you and remembered how fucking close I came…I, God, you are so beautiful and you are counting on me and I can't handle…I failed before. I'll fail again."

Some great crack was opening under my skin, all my organs were falling into it. I felt both too full and too empty all at once. "Christ, Johnny—"

"I will fail you. I am no good."

"You are good," I said. I hated him right now but I wouldn't listen to this bullshit.

"No good."

"Very good. You fucked up. And everyone can forgive you but you."

"How can they forgive me?" he roared. "They're dead!"

"And do you think they are wasting—" I moved my hands around because I had no real words here, "whatever the fuck is on that side worrying about how they got there. It was an accident. Stupid, horrible, awful, and scarring. But an accident. You can't punish yourself forever."

"I can try," he said. His eyes were clearing. The booze was wearing off some. It was scary to see someone I thought of as immovable and invincible not in control of himself.

Everyone loses control sometimes…

I touched his face and he turned his cheek into my hand. He sought my touch the same way a flower seeks sun.

"You don't have a woman in the car, do you?" I blurted. Half joking, half dead fucking serious.

"No. No women. I just drove and drove and was sure I was going to leave because you sure as fuck deserve better than the likes of me but I found a bar and I couldn't. I couldn't leave. Not like that. not at all."

I blew out a shuddering breath and briefly wondered if I was going to vomit. I was still angry. I was still heartbroken. But I was also so undeniably grateful to see him here with me I wanted to throw him back and climb aboard.

But I wouldn't. I was becoming the queen of self control.

"You need a shower," I said.

He nodded.

"And a vat of toothpaste," I said.

He laughed.

Someone knocked and we both looked up.

"Hello?" I called.

"Really? Is that you? It's Charlie. The front guy desk wasn't supposed to tell me, but I…well, I just wanted to thank you for tonight and—"

"No! No, no, no!" I was yelling to Johnny.

Johnny's eyes narrowed and he was at the door yanking it wide before I could get up.

He grabbed Charlie, hauled him in and slammed him to the wall. The cheap plasterboard shook with the force and I was bolting across the room. My foot hit the turkey and I skidded the first two feet before slamming into Johnny's back and righting myself. I pushed myself between a terrified Charlie and a very, very dangerous drunk giant.

"Let him go," I said softly.

"Who is this fucking joker?"

"He's just a guy," I said.

Poor Charlie. I could feel his heart pounding brutally against my back. His breath was hot on the nape of my neck and he wasn't making any sound at all.

"Just a guy who what? What' she here for? What did you do?"

"We just sat and talked, "Charlie finally managed. "She was sad because…well, I guess because of you and I was uspet over my girlfriend—"

"Shut the fuck up," Johnny said and gave him a sharp slam to the wall again.

"Johnny!" I snapped. "You let him go this minute or I'll be the one to leave this time. I won't sneak out and leave you stranded here the way you did me."

His eyes flashed with anger and then shame. Good. Let him feel bad. Yes, he came back and somewhere in me I had always thought he would. But he'd left me for a bit. Left me alone and scared and thank goodness for a guy like Charlie. A nice guy.

"I will, instead, get my shit and go sit in the bus station until morning and go home. Or somewhere else. Whatever. Now, let. Him. Go."

Johnny opened his hands and took three big steps back. He ran his palms over his head and I heard the rustle and rasp of the stubble there.

"I'm taking a shower," he said in a barely controlled voice.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay and thank you again. I know it's late. Bad, bad, bad timing," Charlie said. He was babbling a bit.

"It's okay," I said. "But you'd better go."

He nodded.

He was half out the door and I said, "Good luck, Charlie. And thanks."

He cocked his head. "For what?"

"For making a shitty holiday way less shitty. And showing me there are more good guys than I thought."

"Good luck, Really," he said. And then as an afterthought, "I think that guy really loves you. A lot. Like scary lot. He's entirely frightening, but all you have to do is look in his eyes to see it. It's definitely there."

"Thanks," I said. Then I waved and shut the door.

I dropped to the bed. So unbelievably tired.

I'm a coward…

I knew that feeling.

I'm a coward…

I sighed, rubbed my eyes. My head was throbbing just hard enough to remind me I was miserable.

The shower cut on and I sat on the bed, waiting. At some point, I rolled onto my side and pulled my knees up to my chest, thought someone has to clean up that turkey and then I must have dozed.

STAY TUNED...

Drunk and Disorderly

Been there, done that. Actually, drunk and then asleep. I don't think I've ever done the disorderly bit. At least not to excess ;)

My newest DI release is up on ARe, Bookstrand and 1Place for Romance. Soon to be on Kindle and Smashwords.

Today's Wanderlust post (below) set a fire under my buttocks to sit down and finish this up and get the ball rolling as far as uploading. Tada!

XOXO
Sommer

A 'zine with real braaaaaaaaaaaaaaainz...

Oooh, look at the pretty, freaky, cool and awesome treat I had in my mailbox yesterday. A local 'zine Rigor Mortis put out by Leeking Inc. How lucky am I? And I have to admit, I've read a few and am pretty partial to #4 due to the fact that there was an entire article titled (no shit): Mother, Jugs, and Peens. Dirty, dirty good snippets in zombie movies. Heh. Now *why* would I like an article about gratuitous sex and nudity? I haven't a clue.

Anyhoo, if you are a zombiephile or like to wax poetic about the undead or maybe want to learn about a movies or oh...a zillion you have never even heard of, you can snag issue #4 here on Leeking Inc . For $3.50...THREE DOLLARS, FIFTY CENTS. What the fuck can you actually get for three dollars and fifty cents any more?

Turns out a nice little 'zine to chuckle over while you drink your wine.

And can you see the art from there? You should see the inside. My hat's off to the artist/s. Or since this is zombies we're talking about...my head's off!

XOXO
Sommer

Wanderlust part 56 "Where's the Tylenol?"

Morning. Note: there is no 'good' attached. And away we go...

Wanderlust
part 56
by Sommer Marsden

The bar was long and narrow and wood paneled. It was average and boring and there was a wide bar mirror, neon and a TV playing football.

"Beer," I said the bartender. Between the motel and the bar my coffee fixation had slid into a need for alcohol.

The bartender nodded once and went about getting my drink. She was tall and her hair was braided in two Heidi braids. But her arms were completely tattooed and her lip was pierce and she was totally not what sprang to mind when someone said Utah—to me. Not that I knew jack shit about Utah, right?

Good for her.

Her eyebrows went up. "Any preference?"

"Cold, on tap and cheap," I sighed. "Beyond that, surprise me."

"Good holiday?" She asked, pushing the beer in front of me and following with a bowl of nuts and pretzels.

"The best."

"I take that for sarcasm."

"You are very astute."

She left me be then, which I appreciated. I stared at two tiny football teams that I could not identify running back and forth across the TV screen. It was bolted high on the wall on the opposite side so, to me, none of the players were any bigger than plastic Army men. Besides me, patrons included an older couple that were clearly together, a big blond guy who was clearly alone, three young women who were lit up like Christmas trees they were so snookered, and a few older single guys nursing beers or shots and watching the game.

"You alone?" the blond guy asked me.

I looked around, unsure of myself. I was mentally deciding whether or not I wanted to play the bitch card or not. Finally, I took pity. "Yeah, I am. Change of plans," I said.

He grinned, his green eyes shining in the pink neon. "Mine too. The girlfriend I was supposed to spend it with dumped me when I showed up. In fucking Utah," he said.

The use of the term fucking Utah made me laugh out loud. A real giggle ripped out of me and he stuck his hand out, I was incapable of shunning it. I shook.

"Charlie. Charlie Russo."

"Aurelia Blake I said. But everyone calls me—" Snowflake "—Really."

"Happy holidays, Really. Can I buy you a drink? On me. I have to be here through the night before the bus station or the rental place are open so I can get the hell out of this place."

"I'd love another beer," I said.

This could be good—someone to sympathize with and a few beers minus the soul sucking loneliness. This could be bad—I tended to latch on (and yes, screw) men who were nice to me in times of turmoil. Not always, but there was a definite pattern there.

He signaled our bartender for two more and she arrived with our drinks.

"Thanks," I said. I was already feeling the effects of beer number one since I hadn't eaten in forever. I popped some nuts in my mouth and finished off my first drink.

"To suck ass holidays and finding a cold beer to get through," Charlie said and I clinked my little glass to his. The beers on tap here were ten ounces at most. They reminded me of the glasses in the bars my father used to drag me into for business meetings when I was a kid.

"Amen," I said.

The niceties of Charlie made the ache in me over Johnny that much worse.

Here's the deal, Aurelia. You can sit with this guy and talk with this guy and shoot the shit with this guy but you may not fuck this guy…

And it wasn't because of the whole love thing. This was because I had to worry about me. My heart. My feelings. Who I was on the inside. I had found out a lot since I met Johnny and even if he was a running, scared chicken shit who up and left me on my first holiday out from under my father's thumb…I was not going to lose that connection I had found.

To myself.

"So what's your story? You don't seem the kind to be here on a holiday."

"Nah. I used to be stuck at home in a fancy house with people who barely acknowledged me and stuff. I didn't belong there either."

"Well, I'm glad you're here. Can I buy you a crappy chicken sandwich in lieu of a fabulous turkey dinner?"

"Seriously?"

"Sure. Melinda over there," he nodded toward the bartender who gave me a finger wave, "told me that they have bar food. And today is a fried chicken sandwich with French fries and cranberry pudding."

I shivered. "I don't know if that sounds good or bad," I laughed.

"Me either." Charlie shook his head, corn-silk colored hair flying.

"Look, Charlie. You seem very nice but I came here with a guy and he's not here and things are…whatever they are, but I don't' want you to think that—"

"You're going to rock my world for a chicken sandwich?"

I almost snorted up beer and started choking and laughing at the same time. "Exactly," I wheezed.

"Not even if it's a good chicken sandwich?" But he was grinning like a mischievous little boy.

"No matter how good."

He blew out a mighty sigh and said, "Wow, I guess I'll have to just risk it and buy you the chicken sandwich anyway."

"Wow. You are…amazing," I said.

"I know. Melinda, tell her I really am amazing."

"He's amazing," Melinda said.

"Two turkey day specials," he said.

"Coming right up," Melinda said and walked the small order window toward the back.

"So what's up with Captain dumb ass?"

I blinked at him. "Pardon?"

"Any guy who'd walk out on you is a dumb ass."

I smiled. "Thanks. We had a fight. I think. We had something."

"Traveling?"

"Yep."

"And he left you?"

"Looks like it."

"You need help? Money? A bus ticket."

I smiled at him. "As of right now, no, but thanks."

We ate our food and drank too much beer and watched a football slaughter. I found out Charlie worked in air conditioning and heating. I found out his favorite team was the Baltimore Ravens and he was stoked that that was my home town. I found out he'd dearly loved the girl who'd dumped him and he told me he'd been planning on proposing at Christmas. And he told me that he wanted to have six children and two dogs and a little cottage in the woods somewhere. And he really wanted to be a veterinarian and was considering going back to school for it.

I took my leave of him in late afternoon when the sun was starting to dip. I did my best to genuinely thank the man for company and food and being nice to me.

"You okay to get back?"

I laughed, fueled by beer and food and the warm fuzzy feeling of a good buzz. "Sure am. I am right across the street at that ugly brick motel."

He tipped me a finger wave. "Good night, Really. Happy Thanksgiving."

"You, too," I said and on impulse I leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"Careful," he said. "Never tempt a drunken man," he said good naturedly, and then he kissed my cheek in return.

I sort of lazily staggered to the motel and looked for the car. Nope. No car. No ugly ass car. No Johnny. No man waiting for me on this—my first free holiday. I tried not to let the melancholy rushing toward me settle but by the time I got upstairs, the claws were already in. The sorrow—for that was the only name that seemed appropriate for what I was feeling—had dug in its nails deep and added a good bit of teeth too. I ached like I was dying.

I flopped on the bed and pressed my face into the mattress.

"Why did you have to ruin this, Johnny?" I sighed and fell asleep.

I had lost track of what time it was—I thought early evening—but lately, time had been irrelevant. The TV was still running and the last thing I heard was Chevy Chase saying, "Where's the Tylenol?"

STAY TUNED...