Once my bag is stored safely under the bus, he turns, keeping his head angled down, making his way back to me. When his eyes meet mine, there is a softness to them. It’s comforting.
“Let’s get you out of this rain, shall we?”
“CALLUM! I know you can fucking hear me, dickhead. Wake the hell up!”
The sound of knocking in the distance mirrors the incessant pounding in my head. Throwing my arm over my face, I attempt to shield myself from the loud thumping and the sunlight shining through the hotel bedroom window.
“Callum, I’m not kidding! You’re going to be late if you don’t get up and answer this goddamn door. I’m not driving you back to Iowa if that happens!”
Groaning, I roll over and look up at the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand. The time reads 11:52 and considering the way the sun is burning my eyes, I know I’m fucked. I have less than forty minutes to make it to the bus station, in Chicago traffic much less.
Climbing out of bed, I pull on my pants and head to the door. Swinging it open, I don’t even bother to greet my brother as I turn on my heel and head toward the bathroom, grabbing my clothes on the way.
“I’m glad you finally decided to answer, took you long enough,” he grumbles, the sound of annoyance laced in his tone.
“Fuck off, bro! I didn’t drink myself into a pounding headache last night only to wake up having to listen to you,” I yell back at him, sighing as I stare at myself in the mirror. My dark hair is standing up on the side of my head, and my facial hair has grown a little longer than I like to keep it.
After taking a quick leak, I change my clothes, brush my teeth, and throw everything on the sink into my toiletry bag. Heading back into the room, I shove all my clothes back into my suitcase and slide my phone from the nightstand into my back pocket.
“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” I shout, pulling my suitcase behind me as I walk toward the door, not even caring whether he’s behind me. In fact, I know he is, by the way he’s stomping down the narrow hallway.
After the way things went down last night, I don’t have the patience to put up with him right now. It had been just over five months since I last saw Mason during the holidays. After he sent me a text last week telling me he was finishing up classes, I decided to take a trip to Chicago to visit him.
I didn’t expect my impromptu visit with my brother to turn into a reunion with my father as well.
Steven Reid was a well-known defense lawyer in the state of Iowa when I was growing up. His arrogance and no-nonsense temper made him an asshole in the courtroom. It was always his plan for me to follow in his footsteps and study law. The last time I saw him was when I informed him it wasn’t going to happen. Instead, I was going into business with my stepfather, Randy Whitt. Together, we were going to run Whitt Construction back home in Arbor Creek, Iowa.
You could say the news did not sit well with him. He made it apparent how disappointed he was in me for my decision, and I made it crystal clear I wanted to be anything but like him.
Growing up, my mom was always making sacrifices for my father and our family. He would spend most of his day at the office and wouldn’t return home until all hours of the night. He threw out excuses, like late client meetings or issues popping up on a case. Most of the time he would stumble in the door drunk off his ass, bitching to my mom about his cold dinner she cooked hours ago.
Listening to him yelling at her down the hall as I lay in bed, left me petrified at night. The way his deep voice would growl as he called her names and smacked her around left me with years of built up anger and hostility toward him.
If this is an example of the man he wanted me to be, I had taken it as a lesson in who I never wanted to become.
It wasn’t until my parents separated that I saw the change in my mom. I was only eight years old but I realized it was for the better. The light in her eyes that was often overshadowed by sadness now shined bright. She didn’t constantly stress over household chores or making the perfect meal. Instead, her time was spent with me and my brother. When she later met and fell in love with Randy, I saw her happiness in a whole new way. She glowed as if their love was overflowing from inside her.
Waiting for the elevator, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Pulling it out, I hold my thumb down to unlock it. As if on cue, a text message appears from Randy.
Randy: Are you on your way home?
The elevator dings announcing its arrival, as I pull the suitcase behind me, hitting the button for the main floor. While we make our descent, I shoot off a quick text in response letting him know I’m on my way to the bus station.
Randy: Travel safe, son.
He won’t ever say it, but sometimes I think he worries just as much as my mom does. Ever since he came into our lives, he treated both Mason and me as if we were his own. My father pales in comparison to the man who raised me. Mason still seeks approval from our dad, and I can’t seem to figure out why.
“Are we going to clear the air before you leave or are you going to continue to act like last night didn’t happen?” Mason asks, picking up on my attempt to evade him and this impending conversation.
Running my hand down my face, I rub my weary eyes and will away a headache pulsating beneath my skin. I’m pissed my weekend with my brother had been ruined by my father’s surprise visit.
Seeing him again brought back all those same feelings, and I couldn’t hold myself back from telling him exactly how I felt about him. I know talking about this is going to turn into another argument, and I don’t want to go into this right now. Mason was young when they divorced, but it doesn’t justify him always excusing our father’s actions.
Deciding I need to avoid this conversation, I change the subject entirely.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you and the girl from the bar last night?” I ask, raising my eyebrow at him.
The elevator dings as we reach the main floor, and I move to make my way out. I want to laugh at the look of annoyance on his face. It’s the same look he had last night when he saw Brea with her arms wrapped around me.
After having a surprise reunion with our father, I told Mason I needed to get the fuck out of there and get a beer. We ended up downtown at the bar where Mason works serving drinks. Brea approached me as I was throwing them back quicker than the bartender could refill them, wrapping her arms around my neck in a warm embrace. That happened to be the exact moment Mason came walking out of the back room.
It only took her a minute before she realized I wasn’t who she thought I was. I’m a little taller than Mason is and, while I keep myself in shape working construction, I’m not quite as broad shouldered as my brother. Her reaction nearly had me bent over laughing. I can’t fault her for it and neither could Mason. When we were growing up, we could’ve passed for twins. She was beautiful with long dark hair, but it was evident in the way my brother looked at her that she was his. Even if I were looking for a relationship right now, I would never make a move on my brother’s woman.
“That’s what I thought, Mase,” I say, passing him, emphasizing the nickname Brea used last night. Mason despises nicknames or pet names, although he calls me asshole and dickhead like it’s a term of endearment. The irony is not lost on me.
It’s only fitting with the way things went down with my father showing up at Mason’s apartment and the ensuing argument, that the end of the weekend would end just as shitty. The pounding still has not eased as I rub my fingers along my forehead, hoping to massage it away. I’m dreading the next seven hours sitting on a bus. It’s windy as hell outside, and it’s starting to sprinkle, causing rain to pepper against my face.
We arrive at the bus station just in the nick of time. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I quickly attempt to check my messages, only to find a black screen.
“You gotta be fucking kidding me!” I mutter to myself when I find it dead. When I came back to my hotel room last night in a drunken mess, I remember wasting no time stripping
myself out of my clothes, chucking my phone on the nightstand and landing face first on the bed. Not only did I forget to plug my phone in to the charger, but evidently, I left the charger back at the hotel room. With less than five minutes to spare, I am shit out of luck in picking one up before I board the bus.
This is going to be a long fucking ride home.
With my ticket clutched in my right hand, I slide my phone back into my pocket and set out to find my bus, keeping my head down away from the rain as I drag my suitcase along. It doesn’t take me long to find it with EVERTON prominently written on the front.
Everton is about thirty minutes out of Arbor Creek and nearly three times the size. Don’t let that fool you, though; it still isn’t big with a population just shy of 12,000. Since I’m not used to traffic in downtown Chicago, I opted to take a bus out of Everton and left my truck at the station. Trying to follow directions with a bunch of people was not something I wanted to deal with. I’d end up getting my ass lost.
Depositing my bag under the bus, I turn quickly on my heel and am taken back as I collide into someone. It doesn’t take me long to realize my arms are around the slender body of a woman.
“Whoa, hey there!”
With my arms wrapped around her lower back, I keep her steady to prevent us both from falling. The smell of her floral perfume and a hint of her fruity shampoo assaults me as I inhale deeply.
Once I know we are both on stable footing, I step back, but my words are caught, left lodged in my throat as I drag my gaze over every inch of her. From her long golden blond hair hanging loosely down her back to the magnetic green eyes and soft skin of her face to the shy smile. The woman standing in front of me is breathtaking in a simple sort of way. I can’t help but want to keep her pressed against me. From the way her eyes are eating up every inch of me, I know I’m not the only one appreciating the view, causing me to fight back a grin.
“Sorry about that, beautiful. I’m not sure how I missed seeing you standing there. Are you okay?” The distant look in her eyes makes me wonder if she heard what I said. It only seems to last a moment though before she appears to snap out of it, connecting her eyes with mine.
“It’s okay. I’m fine; it’s okay.” She talks so fast it takes a few seconds for me to catch everything she said. The softness in her voice is so sweet, so innocent it sends a jolt of lust straight to my cock. Now is not a good time, especially with the way her body is molded against mine.
With her hands pressed against my chest, her fingers brush along the defined ridges as if out of habit. It’s as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for her to be doing. My shirt is wet beneath her hand as the rain continues to fall against us. It almost seems as though she is focused on the way my heart beats rapidly beneath her palm. I don’t say anything, feeling so overwhelmed by the way my body reacts to her and the adrenaline coursing through me, instead only responding with a smile.
She takes a step back, and my body aches from the loss of our connection as she stumbles in the process. Acting quickly, I shoot my arms out, grabbing her just above her elbows helping to steady her again.
“You sure about that, sweetheart?” I ask, just as her beautiful green eyes find mine.
That’s when I notice her suitcase has fallen over in a giant puddle next to the bus. She bends down quickly to pick it up with a string of curse words flowing out of her mouth. So much for the innocent woman standing in front of me; it makes me want to laugh seeing her all riled up.
I can’t help thinking of the sounds she would make along with her cries of passion. My attraction to this woman is instantaneous, as if there is a magnetic pull luring me to her. I don’t know her, but something about her makes me wish I did.
“Is everything okay?” I ask. I can tell she is worried, her movements jerky as if she is frantic in her inspection. Running my hand along her shoulder, I try to comfort her just as her head falls back sighing. She doesn’t say anything as her eyes meet mine, but I can see the relief pass over her face.
Quickly zipping up her suitcase, I pick it up and move to deposit her bag beneath the bus. Turning around, I find her with a small smile and her hand up shielding her face.
“Let’s get you out of this rain, shall we?” I smile back, placing my hand on her lower back. With the rain pelting down on us, I should feel cold, but my body burns when I’m next to her.
I don’t even know this girl’s name and all I can think about is being near her.
Once I’m seated on the bus and away from the rain, I unclasp the front of my wallet and slide out the picture I keep tucked away behind my photo ID. Thinking back to the day the photo was taken, I run my finger along my father’s cheek. It was one of the happiest days of my life. I remember the smile my father wore on his face as he made my favorite Mickey Mouse pancakes for my birthday. The way he held me on his arm, singing and dancing around the kitchen while the pancakes cooked away.
Blinking through the forming tears, I look back down at the picture in my hand. I’ve been walking around numb, emotionless since Grams passed. Turning my head, I stare blankly out the window with the photo of my father clutched to my chest, letting the tears stream down my face.
The emotions coursing through me now are threatening to swallow me whole.
I hate the fact life has taken the two most important people in my life from me, leaving me in this world alone.
Movement next to me jolts me from my thoughts as a strong arm wraps around my back. I can smell him before I see him. It’s a new but comforting scent, mixed with the smell of rain. Rubbing my fingers beneath my eyes, I turn and look up and see the man from outside the bus as he envelops me into his arms.
I don’t react in the way I normally would. The old Ellie would lock her emotions away, covering up the hurt she is wearing. I would push him away and tell him I’m fine. Everything in my life has taught me not to trust people. I do none of those things because something deep inside me tells me even though I don’t know him, I can trust him.
Instead, I let myself feel, and in that moment, God do I feel everything.
I feel the weight of the loss and grief pressing down on me. I feel the betrayal and hurt of all the events that happened after my father passed.
And I feel fear because the fear is always there clawing at me and my conscience.
Pushing it all down, I focus on the feel and sound of his heart beating beneath where my head is laying on his chest. The steady rhythm calms my rapidly beating heart, taking solace in this moment.
I can see him lean back out of the corner of my eye, staring at the side of my face as if he’s checking on me. I want to look up at him but I know as soon as I do, the concern will be there and the moment will be over. I fight it off for as long as I can until I feel his mouth press against the side of my head.
“You okay?” he asks. The words are soft as I lean away from him, opening my eyes.
He is staring at my mouth, waiting for me to respond as I run my tongue along my dry lips. I don’t speak, I can’t form a word, so instead I nod my head.
He rakes his eyes over my face again, until they meet mine. Rubbing my fingers along my cheeks and beneath my eyes, wiping away the mascara in the process. “Oh, God,” I cry internally as my cheeks heat in embarrassment
“Don’t worry, you still look beautiful,” he says. The words coming out of his mouth are spoken with such conviction. My stomach flutters as his eyes bore into me, causing desire to pulsate through me, pooling low in my belly.
I can feel my heart rate increase as I struggle to breathe. The rise and fall of my chest visible. He flashes me a wide smile, cueing me in that he’s aware of how my body is reacting to him.
“Thank you…” I say, letting the end hang in the air.
“Callum,” he responds, picking up on my question. He holds his right hand between us, which is kind of funny considering his arm is wrapped around my shoulders.
“Ellie,” I say, returning his warm smile as I slide my hand
into his, shaking it while taking in the feel of his rough skin against mine. The feel does all sorts of funny things to my stomach. “I think I’m just going to lay back and get some rest. We have a long drive ahead of us.”
Letting go of his hand, I lean down to pick up my backpack off the floor. Sliding the wallet from my lap, I tuck my picture away before dropping it in my bag, zipping it up, and keeping it between my legs.
“Fine by me, sweetheart. I’ll probably get some shut eye too. I’ll wake you when we make our first stop.” He smiles, winking at me.
Nodding my head to him, Callum crosses his arms and leans his head back against the seat shutting his eyes. I’m surprised he doesn’t move to go back across the row where he’d have more room. A man his size could use more space when he’s trying to get comfortable. I don’t say anything as I know all too well how vulnerable you can be when you’re asleep. I’m relieved to have him close to me.
Pulling my iPod out of my pocket, I settle on a song before I lay my head back against the seat. Once I’m situated, I lean back and angle my head against the window; the cold glass feels good against my warm skin. My thoughts drift to what is waiting for me at the end of the bus ride.
I struggle through the first part of the trip to get comfortable and eventually pull a sweatshirt out of my backpack to use as a blanket. A couple of hours later, a large hand wraps around the top of my knee, jolting me awake.
“I’m sorry to wake you. I just wanted you to know we’re making a quick stop before we are back on the road.” I look up, seeing him standing in front of me with a warm smile.
“Thanks, Callum,” I say, enjoying for a moment the way his name rolls off my tongue. Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I smile up at him as I leave the bus in search of a restroom. My bladder is practically screaming for relief.
After taking care of business, I take advantage of the opportunity to stretch my legs and get some fresh air, sitting on the bench seat outside the Travelodge. It’s early evening, the sun has begun to set, and the humidity isn’t helping my already frazzled hair.
Where I Found You (Heart's Compass Book 1) Page 2
