Southern Storms (Compass 1)

She stood, too. “Moon, I—”

“Don’t call me Moon,” I snapped. “Leave, Kennedy.”

Her shoulders dropped and I tried to not look her way. I couldn’t look at her, because if I did I would’ve begged her not to go.

“I’m sorry. I figured you could’ve used a friend,” she said.

“I don’t need a friend,” I replied as a faint whisper left me. “I don’t need anyone. Remember? Town asshole here. Not interested in making friendship bracelets with you.”

14

Kennedy

“No,” I called out as Jax began to walk away.

He turned to face me and tilted his head. “What?”

“I said no. You don’t get to walk away right now.”

“Have you lost your mind?” he barked, his voice coated with anger. Or was it pain? His eyes read pain while his voice screamed annoyance.

“A long time ago, but that’s beside the point. The point is, you need to sit down and come talk to me.”

“I’m not going to,” he ordered. “And if you don’t leave my property now—”

“You’re going to call the cops, yeah, yeah, yeah, yadda, yadda, yadda, I get it, Jax. This is your role in this town. You’re the big bad wolf. The cold, hard man who doesn’t let anyone in, but I know you. The real you. That kind, sensitive boy is still in there. I know you’re not a real asshole.”

“Can you just go back home and pretend we don’t know each other?”

“No, I can’t, because I can tell you’ve been carrying a lot on your shoulders for a long time.”

He turned to me with a look of heaviness in his eyes. A look that never really leaves his stare. It’d been there since the first day we’d crossed paths in those woods. I could’ve only imagined how long that pain lived within him.

“I get it,” he said. “You feel as if there’s some kind of soul connection bullshit between us because we went to camp all those years ago, but that fact is null and void because I am nothing like the kid I was all those years ago.”

“And I’m nothing like the girl I was,” I agreed.

“Your colorful as fuck wardrobe and your inability to take a hint when conversations are over begs to differ.”

I smiled a little and smoothed my hand against my neon yellow sundress. “Okay, I guess some things stayed the same for me.”

“Not for me, though. No offense, but I’m not interested in reconnecting with you and trading camp stories over s’mores. I don’t have time for any kind of connection in my life—I’m too damn busy. So, if you would please—”

“Kismet,” I said, standing up straighter. “You taught me that word. Remember? Along with a million other words. But kismet was my favorite. It meant—”

“I know what it means,” he hissed, “but this isn’t that. This isn’t destiny.”

“It could be,” I argued. “All I’m saying is…this has to mean something. The universe brought us back together for a reason.”

“The universe doesn’t control us. I’m sick and tired of this millennial way of thinking. There’s no such thing as destiny. If you need a reason for us crossing paths after all these years, here it is: we both lived about an hour outside of our campsite, it’s a small fucking world, and people move to different towns. You just so happened to move to my hometown. How’s that for your universe theory and divine timing?”

“Not very good, I’ll admit.”

He looked at me and his mouth twitched, as if he had something to say, but didn’t want to share it with me. He shook his head and turned around to head back to his house, and I swallowed hard, thinking back to what Joy told me about Jax’s past.

I began following him once more and said the eight words I should’ve never said. “I heard about what happened to your mother.”

Jax’s back was to me as his body halted. His shoulders rounded forward and I swore it felt as if time stood still. I didn’t know what to say next. I didn’t know how to move forward, but since I’d placed the words out there, I knew I couldn’t leave them lingering.

I took a few steps toward him as my next breath caught in my throat. “Jax, I’m so sorry about—”

“Don’t,” he cut in, making my words falter away. His head shook as he kept his back toward me. “Don’t talk about my mother.”

Even though his words seemed harsh, I heard the crack in his voice as he spoke. That wasn’t anger he was spitting my way—it was pain. An ache I knew too well.

“It was a mistake, Jax. It wasn’t your fault.”

“You have no clue what was my fault.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to say I understand what you’ve been through.”

“There’s no way you understand what I’ve been through, Sun,” he muttered as the nickname hit me like a ton of bricks. If I were honest, so many of my recent days felt more like the shadows of the moon instead of sunbeams.