Southern Storms (Compass 1)

I’d been wandering through the forest behind my house for the past forty-five minutes in search of a place to unwind and write down my wishes, my dreams, and my hopes.

I hadn’t left any type of roadmap back to my house and hoped I’d be able to find my way on my own. Worst-case scenario? I’d sleep beneath the trees. It wouldn’t be the first time, and I doubted it would be the last.

When I pushed my way through a few branches, I was surprised to come upon an open field, one free of any trees and filled with flowers of all kinds. The flower that stood out the most was the one that took my breath away.

Daisies.

Hundreds upon hundreds of vibrant yellow daisies seemed to have been placed there on purpose. My eyes flashed with tears as I tried my best to control my breathing pattern. In the middle of the field was a white bench, and I couldn’t help but find myself walking down the manmade path toward it. It was beautiful. The way the sun peeked through onto the flowers and made them glow was breathtaking.

I couldn’t think of a better place to sit, breathe, and write.

So I did exactly that.

I began scribbling in the notebook, losing myself as I poured out any and every feeling that came to mind. I didn’t have a clue how much time passed as I moved the pen across the paper, and I didn’t care. I was more concerned with getting my truths—no matter how messy they were—down on paper.

When the afternoon sky began to darken, the solar lampposts interspersed throughout the daisies began to light up the space, making everything feel that much more special.

“What the hell are you doing here?” a voice barked my way, making me leap from the bench. My pen and notebook went flying from my grip, landing amongst the flowers. I turned to see a man standing behind me and a wave of nerves crashed into me.

“Oh, hello. I’m Ke—”

“I didn’t ask who you were,” he cut in, his voice low and stern. “I asked what the hell you’re doing here.”

He was a well-built man. His shoulders were broad, his biceps were impressive, and his smile was—well, nonexistent. And his eyes? I got lost in those dark eyes that matched the sky at midnight. I knew it was ridiculous, but I could’ve sworn I’d seen those eyes before. Maybe in a dream, or perhaps in a fantasy, but either way, I felt a pull toward the harsh stranger. I knew those dark irises that drank me in, and the way he tilted his head toward me, completely perplexed, made me feel as if he perhaps knew me, too.

But from when?

From where?

“Do I know—” I started, but I was quickly cut off by his harshness.

“Are you deaf?” he scolded.

Maybe I didn’t know him. I’d have remembered knowing someone as rude as him and would have reminded myself to stay far, far away. “No. No, not at all.” I hurried to collect my journal and pen that had gone flying a few moments ago. As I stepped forward, flustered, I tripped over my own feet and stumbled, trying to catch my footing.

“Careful!” he called out, his voice a mixture of annoyance and worry—not worry for me, obviously. He seemed more concerned about the daisies.

Thankfully, I didn’t fall. I did my best to tiptoe through the flowers as I grabbed my things. “Sorry. I was wandering through the woods when I—”

“Trespassing.”

“What?”

“You were trespassing. This land is private property.”

I snickered a little as I hugged the book to my chest. “Yes, I heard, but—”

“So you knew?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“There are no buts. You heard and disobeyed the law. Remove yourself from my property before I have to get law enforcement involved.”

I huffed, stunned by his words. “Is it really that serious? I was just trying to get some fresh air and explore and—”

“Trespassing,” he cut in—again.

“Stop cutting me off!” My face was growing warm from his attitude as anger began bubbling up inside me.

“I will once you’re not on my property.”

The man with the most intense, sad-looking eyes was beginning to get under my skin. How did he think it was okay to be so rude to a person he didn’t even know? He was being so blunt, harsh, and cold.

I decided to ironically call him Mr. Personality, seeing how his was ever so charming.

“You don’t have to be so impolite,” I grumbled, shaking my head in disbelief. “I wasn’t harming anyone or anything by being out here. The idea that people can own nature is a completely ridiculous concept anyway. These trees were here before you were even born, will be here long after you’re gone, and still you are trying to claim them as yours. That’s insane to me.”