Where I Found You (Heart's Compass Book 1) Page 3

  “Is this seat taken?” His deep voice vibrates through me, as I look up to see Callum standing before me. His blue eyes are a stark contrast against his dark facial hair and tan skin.

  “Not at all,” I say, sliding over giving him more space on the already open bench seat.

  We sit here for a few minutes in silence while he eats a slice of pizza. I can’t help but admire the way his jaw moves as he chews. It’s sexy to watch, and I fight the urge to run my hand along his cheek.

  “So where are you headed?” he asks, raising his eyebrow in question. I know he is referring to where I’m going at the end of this trip. The realization of what this fresh start means for me and the fact I don’t know this man snaps me back to reality. If my past has taught me anything, it’s that the only people I could ever count on have either left me or betrayed me.

  “I’m still trying to figure it out,” I say, suddenly feeling sad at the thought. I know Callum didn’t expect that answer or my reaction.

  I don’t return the question because I want to avoid where this discussion is going. Instead, I focus on people milling around outside before they board the bus. Callum takes a bite of what’s left of his pizza and stands to throw his garbage away. Raising his hands over his head, I watch as he stretches preparing for another four-hour ride.

  The movement causes the front of his shirt to ride up, and I can’t help the way my eyes take in their fill of Callum. My body reacts to both his nearness and my attraction to him, appreciating the way he moves and the confidence he exudes. By the looks of the deep V hidden beneath his jeans, he spends a lot of time taking care of his body.

  I hear him laugh lightly, causing me to divert my attention away from his tan skin back to his face. That smirk is back in full effect. I can’t help but want to roll my eyes at him because it’s kind of ridiculous how good looking he is. He really should come with a warning label, good Lord!

  “I hope you don’t mind but can I borrow your cell phone charger on the bus?” he asks, sliding his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I forgot to charge my phone last night and left mine at the hotel I was staying at.”

  “Umm… I don’t have a phone,” I mumble awkwardly, “But I’m pretty sure I saw chargers for sale over there,” pointing my thumb behind me toward the lodge.

  His brows furrow, as if he is unsure whether he believes me. I’m probably the only twenty-something-year-old female in the state of Illinois or Iowa; I’m not even sure where the hell I am right now, who doesn’t have a cell phone.

  “You don’t have a phone?” he asks, the surprise evident in his tone, and I work to suppress my eye roll. “I mean, it’s not a bad thing. It’s just most girls I know usually have their phone attached to their hip. It’s not very safe for you to be traveling alone without one.”

  I can’t help the irritation that seeps through at everything he just said. Clearly, his first impression of me has been misunderstood. I don’t appreciate the fact that he obviously perceives me as a lost, helpless girl.

  Like a steel rod in my spine, I’m stick straight as the words he said sink in. How helpless does this man think I am?

  “I appreciate your concern over me back there,” I say, waving my hand toward the bus, “I’m sure it looks like I need some sort of protection, but I can assure you I don’t. I’ve taken care of myself for most of my life and have gotten along just fine. No one gives a shit where I’m going, much less how to get ahold of me when I get there. So please, save your concerns and knight in shining armor act for someone else,” I spit out defensively. Standing, I adjust my bag on my back and head toward the bus, effectively ending the conversation.

  This is exactly why I wanted to be left alone and, as predicted, he didn’t know what to say when I unloaded the truth.

  People don’t know how to react without their sugar-coated bullshit.

  It’s a little after nine o’clock when we pull into Everton. A small part of me was grateful it had taken this long to get here. The two planned stops ended up turning into three. I am just deflecting because when I think too much about what comes at the end of the trip, it scares the ever-loving shit out of me.

  Trying to keep my mind off my future, I spent the rest of the time overthinking how things went down with Callum. I have replayed our conversation in the parking lot back in Chicago a hundred times. I can still feel his touch and how my body reacted to him. I can’t help but regret the things I said back at the Travelodge.

  I know he didn’t mean to upset me. I’ve worked so hard to hide parts of myself from the outside world. Knowing I had been able to open myself up to him in a way I hadn’t in a long time, had me feeling exposed. It’s as if he was trying to see who I am beneath it all.

  Callum didn’t bother trying to talk to me for the rest of the trip. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised and I can’t blame him after the way I snapped at him. I’m sure he thought I wasn’t worth the time.

  As the bus pulls into the station, I sit up straight in my seat hanging back as people begin pulling their bags out of the overhead compartments and moving to get off the bus. Once the coast is clear, I pick up my bag off the floor and quickly shove my iPod and sweatshirt inside. Sliding the straps up my arms, I make my way down the aisle.

  The sun has long since gone down, leaving the night sky dark and the air cooler. I can’t stop the shudder that passes through me, causing me to wrap my arms around my stomach, and I instantly regret my decision to stow away my sweatshirt. The lights in the parking lot are dim, casting a soft glow on the near black asphalt.

  I don’t even make it five feet away from the bus when I hear my name being called. The deep voice in an unfamiliar place takes me off guard, as I look around trying to decipher which direction the sound came from. I silently long to hear it again in hopes it was him. When my eyes connect with Callum, I want to sigh in relief at the smile on his face.

  Pulling my suitcase along behind me, I head over to him, kicking the pebble rocks on the ground in the process. It distracts me from the imminent conversation and the realization that this is likely the last time I will ever see him.

  “Hey!” I say awkwardly, not knowing what to say or why he would even want to talk to me.

  Looking up, I let my eyes meet Callum’s and don’t let the fear of him seeing how nervous he makes me push me away.

  “I know you said you were still trying to figure out where you’re headed, so I don’t mean to offend you.” I can tell he is approaching the conversation hesitantly. Nodding, I urge him on.

  “I just wanted to make sure wherever you’re going that you get there safe. Can I give you a ride somewhere?” he asks, his tone showing a hint of vulnerability.

  Callum is dressed in a black hoodie and perfectly fitting dark blue jeans; it’s fucking unfair. His arms are stiff with his hands fisted in his pockets, likely to keep them warm. His shoulders are raised up, tense as if he is bracing himself for the way this conversation could go. I know I can’t leave with him; I can’t even put myself in a position to be alone with a man much less one I just met. Even if I feel like I can trust him.

  People continue to shuffle along around us, but it’s like nothing else exists as I let my eyes run over his face and take in the way his eyes sparkle under the lights. His hair is pulled back underneath a light gray beanie. The way his jaw flexes reveals the small dimple on his cheek, that’s so fucking sexy, it makes what I should say next difficult.

  “I appreciate the offer, I do, but my friend is going to be here any minute to pick me up.” I lie, the words rolling off my tongue before I can even give myself an opportunity to change my mind.

  “Thank you for everything, for you know, back there.”

  He doesn’t even hide his disappointment, picking up on my blatant lie. I’ve never been good at lying, but I don’t allow myself the chance to think about it. Holding my hand out in front of me, I force a bright smile and move to shake his.

  “Thank you!”

  Callum looks
down, studying my hand as his brows crease before he looks back up meeting my eyes. He doesn’t hesitate, his strong hand wraps around mine, and I relish the way his calloused fingers rub against the soft skin of my palm. Using our connection, Callum pulls me close to him so we are nearly touching chest to chest and leans down so his mouth is near my ear. His closeness sends waves of heat pulsating through me as I take a deep breath, inhaling him, but also to calm my nerves.

  “I’m sorry, Ellie,” he sighs. His whispered words against my ear send a jolt through me. My heart is beating wildly, leaving me struggling to breathe. I know he’s saying he is sorry for upsetting me back at the Travelodge. I want to say it’s okay; I want to tell him I’m sorry, too, but I don’t. It’s as if every word escapes me at that moment as he steps back releasing my hand.

  Without a backward glance, he turns and grabs the handle of his suitcase and walks away. I want to call out after him. My eyes begin to water as they take in the way he moves, how his back flexes, and his strong legs eat up the concrete walking further and further away from me. It isn’t until he turns the corner, around the side of the building that my rapidly beating heart drops into the pit of my stomach.

  Instinctively, I reach up and clasp my hand in a fist around the compass necklace hanging from my neck. It’s as if I’m clutching a lifeline to my Grams. Closing my eyes, I release a deep breath, reminding myself of the promise I made to her before she passed away and how it led me here. I came to Arbor Creek to start over fresh, and I don’t think I’d survive if I let him in only to have him leave down the road when he discovered the baggage that came along with me.

  “I’m sorry, too,” I whisper to myself, opening my eyes as a tear trails down my cheek.

  3 Months Later

  “GOD DAMMIT!” I shout, hurling the wrench toward the back wall of the garage. The force behind it causes other tools hanging to clank together as they fall on the tool bench. Clenching my hands into fists, I struggle to regulate my breathing and control the anger coursing through me. Feeling a trickling down the side of my face, I reach around and grab the handkerchief hanging from my back pocket and wipe off the sweat.

  I’ve spent nearly half the day working on my dirt bike engine, and I have come to the realization it’s no fucking use. The engine needs a rebuild, and after all the money I’ve already spent on this thing, I’m screwed.

  Hearing a grunt from behind me, I turn to see my stepfather standing before me with his eyebrow raised in question.

  “You better not let your mother hear you taking the Lord’s name in vain. After the last time, I can promise I won’t be around to hear about that one,” he retorts.

  I don’t say anything, mostly because I can’t promise my response wouldn’t come off as me being a smartass, so instead, I just nod my head in agreement. Growing up, my mom didn’t show any patience when it came to my mouth, and the last thing I need is to piss her off. I’ve got enough shit on my plate.

  “Sorry. It’s been a rough day. I’m gonna have to start over on the engine, and I’m not looking forward to throwing more money at it.” Grabbing the towel off the workbench, I wipe up the grease and oil from my hands. “Have you heard anything back about the inspection over at the Hepp Property?”

  “Elliott was working on it just before I took off. Said that he’d have the notes on your desk before he left today,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. He knows this isn’t the news I wanted to hear, needing to pass the inspection before we delayed the project further.

  “Let’s head out back to the dock. I have something I need to talk to you about anyway, and I think you could use the break,” Randy says, turning on his heel, not even giving me a second to contemplate it.

  Following along behind Randy, we make our way down the hill toward the pond. The pond is my favorite part of the property. A pavilion with a picnic table sits just off to the side, near the dock. It’s surrounded by trees, secluding it from the rest of the land. Sounds of crickets and birds chirping off in the distance are soothing the thoughts weighing heavily on my mind. Lifting the baseball cap from my head, I run my fingers through my hair. The setting sun is leaving the air cooler, which feels good against my head. I let out a deep sigh, already feeling the stress melt away.

  Growing up on the ranch, I started working for Randy, helping with the chores, feeding and grooming the horses, and cleaning up their stalls. I remember after long days like today, I’d come down and sit on the dock. Some days I’d ride my quad or the horses down to the pond, letting them graze while I watched the sun go down.

  Randy knew how much I loved this place. When I was older and had enough money put back, I bought a few acres including the pond, and built my house on it. Last summer, my best friend, Wes, and I added a track where we ride our dirt bikes, but nothing beats spending my nights sitting on the dock drinking a cold beer.

  The boards creak below us as we walk up the stairs of the pavilion to stand at the railing overlooking the water.

  “It doesn’t surprise me that you wanted to buy this part of the land from me. As a child, you wanted to spend all your time down here. It was always hard getting you to come back home,” Randy recalls, leaning over the railing, looking down at the water as if he is lost in thought. “I remember the night you, Mason, and I had a camp out right here under the moon. Then it started to rain, so we ended up sleeping under the pavilion.”

  After my mother and Randy married, he took on more of a father figure role like any true man would do. He has always been there for Mason and me. I respect the hell out of him for everything he’s done for us.

  I know where this conversation is heading, so I just wait for it.

  “You gonna tell me what’s been going on with you and your brother?” Randy asks. His tone affirming a hint of frustration, so I know he must be asking because of my mother.

  Called it.

  I haven’t talked to Mason since I got back from Chicago three months ago; it’s not like we talked every day before. He is busy with school and work; I get it.

  Mason had always tried to play a neutral party when it came to our parents. I understand that. Hell, I respect it, too. He was young when our parents separated, which means he doesn’t remember the way things went down. I made sure to keep him hidden from some of it, not wanting him to deal with what I witnessed at such a young age.

  My problem is how he expects me to move on like nothing ever happened, especially when it comes to my relationship with my father. I didn’t expect he would lay such a bomb in my lap, having him show up during my visit.

  He texted me a couple of weeks back, but I’ve yet to respond to him. I don’t have much to say to him. The fact that he must have shared this with my mother doesn’t surprise me for a second.

  “Not much to tell,” I say, wanting to avoid this conversation as much as possible. While I knew I was feeding him a line of bullshit, it wasn’t something I wanted to entertain. The only good thing that came out of the trip was the ride home.

  Remembering the bus trip brings back all the same thoughts. The ones that I haven’t been able to get off my mind about Ellie since I ran into her at the bus station. Even the first night home I fell asleep to thoughts of her on my mind, the picture of her smiling face looking up at me while my arms wrapped around her. Her scent was clinging to me like a second skin. There were times since then where I would catch her scent, and I could swear that she was standing right next to me. I couldn’t help but want to run my nose up the column of her neck just to get more of her.

  It was a lost fucking cause though. Ellie made it clear she wasn’t interested and was off to God knows where without even a second glance in the rearview mirror.

  “Is that so?” Randy grunts, bringing me back to the present and this painful conversation. “That isn’t what your mom thinks, ya know? She heard you haven’t been respondin’ to your brother. You know how much she hates seein’ you two fightin’. Will you just talk to him, even if it’s for her?”

&
nbsp; We both let out a deep sigh as I run my hand over my face, working out how to even approach this. I knew it was coming. I may have thought I could avoid the conversation, but I should’ve known better.

  “Listen,” I sigh, looking out on the water. “I know how she can get, and I don’t want her worried. I am not ready to talk to Mason yet. I’ll stop by the house tomorrow and talk to her. Alright?” I state, just wanting to get this over with. I know she is upset, and I certainly don’t want her to be worrying.

  “Alright, son, I understand. I hope you’ll come around though. There ain’t nothin’ that should be causin’ you and your brother to be fightin’ like that,” he voices, clapping me on the back.

  My phone rings from my pocket, giving me a much-needed reprieve. Holding my finger against the home screen, I unlock my phone and see a pop up for two missed messages; one from Wes and the other from my ex, Madison. Groaning internally, I click on the message from Wes.

  Wes: Going out tonight to celebrate the girls opening their salon. Brodie’s at 7.

  A second message comes through has me choking on a laugh.

  Wes: Kins said you better show or she’ll drag your ass there by your boots.

  Shooting off a quick text, I let him know I wouldn’t miss it. The threat of Kinsley and Halle showing up at my door was enough to convince me to be there. Not to mention, I am in dire need of a beer, music, and friends after the way this day has gone.

  “That was Wes,” I say, mumbling to Randy. “I guess Kins and Halle are having a celebration down at Brodie’s tonight for their new salon opening up on Monday.”

  “Your mother told me about that. I saw their sign going up when I was driving through town. You tell them both we’re proud, will ya?” Wes and I grew up running around together, and Kinsley and Halle were two of our good friends. I wouldn’t claim to be well-behaved, especially through my teenage years, but those girls were spitfires getting us into nothing but trouble.