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We continue hiking, and I'm relieved he doesn't push me to say anything right away. I take in the trail, all of the sights and sounds of the early summer day. The sun comes through the trees and is warm on my skin, and the air is crisp and smells like fresh forest. Birds call in the distance, and Porter's presence beside me is a comfort.
But even Porter doesn’t have infinite patience, and eventually, he broaches the subject again. "What are you worried about, Bailey?"
I sigh. "I'm...scared, I guess. This is a lot really fast, and you’re nineteen years older than me.”
Porter lets out a harsh exhale. "Listen, baby, I'm a man that knows what he wants. When I decide I want something, I don't back down. Never. And I've decided that I want you, Bailey. Age doesn't mean shit to me. Experience doesn’t mean shit to me. But you mean something. You're smart, and talented, and fucking beautiful."
"But Porter?—"
"No, Bailey. Listen, I've spent too much time in my life with people telling me what I should and shouldn't do. I'm done with it. I know what I feel, and I'm going to act on those feelings. I'm not a fucking teenager anymore, baby. If I want you, then I'm going to have you."
I gape at him. His words are so direct, so unapologetic, and God, it's a huge turn-on. He wants me, and he's not going to hold back.
Porter Brooks is all in.
"Alright," I whisper.
"Alright," he echoes.
We fall silent, hiking up the steep parts of the trail. Porter sets a pretty fast pace, and as a result, the hour flies by. Before I know it, we're standing on a huge rock, looking out at a breathtaking view.
"Wow," I breathe.
Porter grins. He's pulled his sweatshirt over his head, leaving him in a white tank top that hugs his torso, showing off his muscles and his tattoos. The breeze blows his hair around his face, and the sun shines brightly in his eyes.
"Told you the view was good," he says, his voice smug.
I laugh. "You did."
Porter unpacks the bag. There are two sandwiches, fruit, and some water, and we settle on the rock together and eat. It's basic fare as far as food goes, but after the long hike and the emotional toll of our conversation, it's delicious.
"Tell me about you, Bailey," Porter says out of nowhere, brushing his hands off. "Your family, how you grew up, everything."
"Well…" I sigh, leaning back on my hands, and stretch my legs out in front of me, enjoying the breeze. "I'm the oldest of four. My dad took off and disappeared when I was eight, leaving my mom to raise all of us. It wasn't easy, but she did the best she could. I came here to go to school for sports medicine on a scholarship, but it's the summer now, which is why I'm staying with Renae."
But Porter seems stuck at the beginning of my story. "Your dad left his wife and kids?"
"Yeah."
"Fuck him," Porter growls. "What a piece of shit."
I wince. Of course, I feel the same way deep inside, but we’re basically forbidden to talk about Dad at all back at home. Mom doesn’t want to hear a single word about him, bad or good. So it feels strange to speak on it now.
Porter sees my reaction and reaches out to put his hand on my upper leg. "Bailey, parents are supposed to protect their children, not abandon them."
My heart warms. "It's okay. It’s been a long time. I barely knew him anyway, with how much he worked. It really is fine.”
"No, it's not. I don't know how the hell he could just leave you, baby."
"Really. I’m good," I reassure him. "He doesn't deserve my tears or my anger. Not anymore. And it doesn't bother me. It just is what it is. We made do without him."
"But you shouldn't have had to."
I shrug. "Maybe not, but we did."
Porter sighs, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me closer to him. We look out at the view, and he doesn't say anything for a little while. Finally, he asks what I think was probably the biggest thing on his mind this entire time. Porter tries to keep his tone casual, but there’s a thread of barely suppressed rage in it.
"What about this stalker of yours? Any more issues in the last few days?"
