Love Without a Compass

by Lindy Zart

“Ben,” I call as I rush toward him, my voice breathless and high.

  He turns from the stairwell, disbelief lining his face. “Avery. What are you doing here?”

  “I got stung by a bee.”

  Ben’s eyebrows lower. “I see.”

  I try to catch my breath, continuing on. “And…it made me realize that being stung isn’t that bad. Like all the other things I’m scared of, and I somehow manage to overcome. Like everything we got through together when we were lost. I didn’t think I could do any of that, and I did. You make me stronger—or being near you makes me stronger.”

  I’m not making sense, but my heart knows what I need to say, so I keep talking. “I don’t want to not do things because I’m afraid of being stung, or—or whatever.” I shake my head and try again. “I read about crows too, and really, they don’t seem all that bad, as long as you’re nice to them. I found out that it’s easy to be scared of something you don’t understand, but I understand them better, and now they’re not so scary. I was shutting myself in a box before even attempting to get out of it.”

  Ben doesn’t say anything, his eyes steady on my face. I can tell the healing cut on his left cheek is going to scar, adding mystery and character to his features.

  I take a deep breath. “The point is that I don’t want to live my life with regrets, and letting you go to Alabama without me, well, that would be an astronomical regret.”

  Time ticks by, our reality paused even as the rest of the world rushes around us.

  I shift my feet nervously. “What are you thinking?”

  Ben smiles, crinkles forming around his eyes. “That’s interesting.”

  I swallow. “It is?”

  “It is.” He nods, looking to the side. “You see, the thing is, Avery, I decided something too.”

  Fear takes over my pulse, spinning it out of sync. “You did?”

  “I did.” Ben turns his lightning gaze on me.

  “What?” I whisper. “What was it?”

  “I decided that it wouldn’t be worth it.”

  Ben steps closer, bringing his scent, bringing his fire, directly into my hemisphere. I close my eyes. I’ve missed the feeling of him being near. I didn’t realize I could miss a sensation that much. Ben brings meaning to what is otherwise senseless to me, and I feel incomplete without him.

  His fingers are cool upon my cheek, forging a trail to my lips. “Any adventure I might go on, without you, isn’t worth it. I’d still be lost, Avery. Because you’re what I’d be trying to find, and you’re already here.”

  Ben swallows. “You lied about being scared, Avery, but I lied too. The thought of not being with you—it terrifies me. I’d rather fight with you every day, than have boring orderliness in your absence.”

  My eyes pop open.

  “I was leaving,” Ben says.

  “I know—”

  “No, you don’t.” Ben shakes his head, piercing me with his intense eyes. “I was leaving the airport to come find you.”

  “But your trip. Alabama…”

  “I don’t need to be anywhere but with you. I’m staying in Chicago.”

  “You’re willing to give up your trip for me?” It’s a beautiful sentiment. I sniffle and blink, releasing tears. “You can’t do that, Ben.”

  Confusion mars his face. “Isn’t that what you want? Isn’t that why you’re here?”

  “No. I want to be with you, but I also want you to do what you planned. I want you to go to Alabama.” I cup his jaw, feeling the prickles of stubble against my skin. “And I want to go with you.”

  Hope dares to lighten his eyes, but then Ben goes still, his voice particularly deadened when he asks, “What about your dad?”

  “My dad fired me from Sanders and Sisters last night,” I tell him, laughing.

  Ben jerks back, anger reddening his face. “What the hell? Why would he do that?”

  “Because he didn’t want me to end up like him and my mom. He wants me to be happy.” I swallow thickly. “And Ben, he knows I love you.”

  He goes still, his eyes shooting to mine. His nostrils flare as he takes in a breath, holds it, and releases it.

  “I love you, Ben.”

  Ben briefly sets his forehead to mine. With shaking palms, he pushes hair from my face and looks into my eyes. “I love you too, Avery, so much.”

  Something light swirls in my stomach, something I can only ascertain as to be jubilation. We had a rocky path, but here we are, choosing to be with each other, whatever may come.

  Ben’s voice is rough with emotion when he says, “He told me to stay away from you.”

  “And he saw how miserable I was with you gone,” I answer.

  Wariness lingers on his face. “You’re sure?”

  I laugh. “Yes. I’m sure.”

  As I watch, his expression transforms, and it’s so sweetly happy that my heart stutters in my chest.

  “I watched the movie you sent me. I love that movie. It’s a great movie.”

  “I told you.”

  I wrinkle my nose at him.

  Ben laughs, pulling me in for a kiss, electrocuting my nerve endings. The bustle of the airport fades away; the only people here are Ben and me. I want to do this every day. I can do this every day. The kiss goes on and on, until the point where I have to pull away to get any air into my lungs. I smile so widely at Ben that my cheeks hurt, and he returns it, looking boyishly handsome.

  He takes a deep breath, briefly resting his forehead to mine. “Avery.”

  “What is it?”

  Ben steps back, shaking his head. “I can’t do it.”

  I frown. “Can’t do what?”

  He runs fingers through his hair. “I can’t let you leave your dad, although, with the way he’s treated me since finding out how I feel about you, I kind of feel like being a dick to him. Which I can be. Here. In Chicago. With you close to him.”

  My pulse picks up. “What are you saying?”

  “We’re going to be together.” Ben threads his fingers through mine. “You said you need me, but you need your dad too. I’m not going to take you away from him or force you to choose.”

  “You’ll stay?” I whisper, my pulse ricocheting with joy.

  Ben squeezes my fingers. “I want to be where you are, Avery. You’re my adventure.”

  “What about traveling, seeing the United States?”

  He shrugs. “We can do that together, in small spurts. We’ll be pros at mini-vacations. Maybe we can even go camping.”

  I pause, taking in Ben’s twinkling eyes. “Maybe. Eventually. In a camper.”

  Ben laughs.

  My chest fills, my face stretched wide with a smile. “I am so unbelievably in love with you. Just, um, one thing before we start all this adventuring.” I hold up a finger, giving him an imploring look.

  “What’s that?”

  I gnaw my lower lip with my teeth. “Would you mind terribly if we go to Rosa’s, like, right now? I didn’t have breakfast and I’m starving. Plus, as you know, we both are due a major pig-out session.”

  Humor dances in his eyes as Ben tugs me close for another kiss. “Anything for Queen Avery.”

  Keep reading for a special excerpt of THE MAP TO YOU, by USA TODAY Bestselling author, Lindy Zart.

  They both had secrets that could drive people apart—or bring them together forever…

  Keeping his inner demons at bay means Blake Malone has more than enough trouble on his plate. He doesn’t need any extra complications. But that’s exactly what he gets when, on his way to North Dakota, he leaves his truck unattended—and returns to find a beautiful woman sleeping in the front seat.

  Opal Allen seems to have a knack for attracting trouble. Which is why she isn’t about to tell her new road trip companion the real reason she needs to hightail it out of town. But Blake has a way of seeing right through her, which is both terrifying and exhilarating. Now her biggest problem is figuring out how to resist their undeniable attraction. Because once this road trip is o
ver, she plans on never seeing Blake again.

  But the best adventures don’t go according to plan.

  Look for The Map to You, on sale now.

  1

  Blake

  Last I checked, I was traveling alone.

  I walk to my grandfather’s truck, a 1987 Ford F-series pickup in blue and white, and blink at the small form curled up on the seat.

  Under the darkened dome of the sky, it’s hard to discern anything other than the size of the thing inside my truck, and that it has dark hair. It could be a man, a woman—even a kid. I quickly scan the parking lot, searching for any accomplices to a premeditated crime involving yours truly.

  It’s the end of August, and the days can be wicked humid and hot, but the same can’t be said for the nights. I have on a light jacket to help keep the chill off my skin. I glance into the cab of the truck. Small as this person is, they have to be feeling the cold.

  The night is still and quiet, only two other vehicles taking up parking spaces of the 24-hour convenience store. It’s after midnight on a Wednesday. Most sane people are home and in bed. I focus on the stranger in my truck. Whatever they’re up to, it’s bound to be nefarious. I like my share of nefarious dealings, as long as I’m the one doing them.

  Muttering to myself and craving a cigarette, I carefully set down the plastic bag of chips, beef jerky, and orange juice I purchased to curb the hunger gnawing at my gut. I rub the stubble along my jaw, head cocked, as I come to a decision. It’s an easy one—whoever they are, they can’t stay in my truck.

  Hands out, palms down, I soundlessly skulk around the front of the truck and toward the passenger side. My eyes shift from side to side in pursuit of any possible friends of theirs hoping to make my night especially spectacular with a blunt object to the back of the head. I feel ridiculous, sure I look like the Pink Panther slinking around in the dark.

  My boot kicks a piece of gravel and it pings against the side of the truck my mother secretly kept in a storage unit all these years for me. I didn’t even know the truck was still around until my brother Graham unknowingly drove it from North Dakota to Wisconsin my last week in the Cheesehead state. I just about cried when I saw it. Just about, but not quite—because crying would be bad for my image. My throat burned from keeping it in, though, and when Kennedy, Graham’s girlfriend, commented on the redness of my eyes, I told her it was a reaction to whatever perfume she’d doused herself in.

  Smooth, that’s me.

  I wince, hoping the rock didn’t do any damage to the truck. This is one of the last pieces I have of the man who never judged me in all the years he was alive. Good thing for my grandfather’s untarnished view of me that my life didn’t completely fall to shit until after he died.

  A head snaps up, and large, dark eyes slam into mine. I freeze against the unexpected jolt of them. The woman appears youngish, her face pointy and elfin. Her features are interesting, like it couldn’t be decided whether to make her look exotic or plain. We study one another for one charged moment, and then whatever had her immobile collapses. Her mouth opens in a piercing scream, and she scrambles to the middle of the cab. I jerk back, her reaction startling me.

  “What the hell kind of a person creeps up on someone like that?” she accuses. Her voice is breathless, but there is an undertone of huskiness that brings my nerve endings to attention.

  I open my mouth with the intention of apologizing, and then realize what I’m about to do. Scowl taking over my features, I grip the door handle and pull. She scoots across the seat with her back to the driver’s side door and, wide-eyed, looks back at me.

  “Get out…of my truck,” I say slowly, setting my palms on the worn and torn vinyl upholstery to lean forward menacingly.

  “You left the doors unlocked. And the windows down,” she adds, like that makes it acceptable for anyone to commandeer my vehicle.

  I nod. “A clear welcome to all vagrants far and wide.”

  “I’m not a vagrant,” she insists, tightening her arms around herself.

  Something in her tone gives me pause, and I sweep my gaze over her. Her hair looks dark brown or black and is styled choppily around her face and jaw. The woman’s chin juts forward as our eyes connect, silently rebellious. There are dark splotches beneath her eyes and she’s holding herself protectively. Under the cropped jean jacket and jeans, her figure appears slight. She reminds me of a terrier, tiny and fierce with more boldness than common sense.

  “Who are you and what are you doing in my truck?”

  “I was contemplating hotwiring it and selling it, but then I wondered if it would actually start.”

  “It starts.” Usually.

  When she doesn’t answer the first question, I lambaste her with my eyes, refusing to be the first to break the stare. Her mouth is small and pursed with annoyance, like I’m bothering her by wanting to know what she’s doing in my truck. Under the heat of my gaze, she makes a face and looks away, showing me her profile. Her nose is long and slim, her chin sharp and stubborn. It feels like a small victory that she was the one to break eye contact. Something tells me she isn’t one to easily give in.

  “Conversations generally work best when you talk,” I say shortly.

  Sighing, the woman regards me as she sits up straighter. “I fell asleep,” she mumbles, her mouth twisting at the confession.

  I squint my eyes as I straighten, peering over the hood of the truck. We appear to be alone, but that doesn’t make me relax any. Appearances are commonly shit and not to be trusted.

  My shoulders pop as I rotate them, and I level my gaze once more on the stranger. “I want to make sure I’m understanding this right—you picked a random truck in a gas station parking lot to fall asleep in?”

  “No.” She picks at the hem of her jacket, a shiver going through her small frame. “I watched you go into the store.” Almond-shaped eyes latch onto me. “You seemed harmless enough.”

  I lock my fingers behind my head and look at the star-strewn sky. This is an insanity I cannot be a part of. An urge to laugh hits me and I repress it, knowing it won’t sound in any way normal. I don’t need this right now. I have enough problems without this, whatever this is.

  I stride around the truck and grasp the door handle at the same time she propels herself in the other direction. My blood ignites, and with a stiff jaw, I reach into the truck, grab her tiny wrist, and pull, my eyes refusing to let go of hers. Anger flashes through her eyes and contorts her features. She doesn’t look quite as innocent now. She looks vicious, and mighty—for a munchkin. Calling me an assortment of colorful names, she fights to get free of my grip, and I only tighten it, swinging her down from the cab. She lands awkwardly, stumbling into me, and then she savagely kicks my shin with a booted foot. I grunt and twist her around, her back to my front, and barricade her with my arms.

  “Let go of me!”

  She squirms against my shackled arms, her head barely reaching my chest. Her body is a compact heat source, singeing me where it connects with mine. She’s tiny, proportioned more to that of a teenager than a young woman. There’s too little of her, and yet her rambunctious attitude seems to make up for it. I put my mouth close to her ear and feel the pulse pick up in her wrist I hold. The pose would be erotic, if not for the hellion in my arms.

  “Start talking. Now. Or the police get involved.” I am loath to involve law enforcement in anything that pertains to me, but she doesn’t know that.

  Her body goes limp, tremors having their way with her form. “Please, no. No cops,” she beseeches, her small voice twinging my conscience.

  Has she been in trouble with the law? Has her past been so twisted with corruption, like mine, that she sees any authority figure as an enemy?

  With a frustrated growl, I release her.

  She spins around, a triumphant look on her face, and dives to the left. I move with her, blocking her. Her eyes narrow as she calculates her next move. She feints right and goes left again, but I am right there with her. She’
s fast and sneaky, but I am a professional at games, no matter that I retired from them years ago. There was a time when I spent most of my days either getting in trouble or trying to get out of it.

  One word leaves me and it is coated with warning. “Talk.”

  The woman’s shoulders curve inward and the bravado drops from her face, making her look young and scared. “People are after me,” she whispers.

  Interesting. I cross my arms and widen my stance. “Who?”

  “I don’t know who.” She drops her eyes and resumes her pathetic look, hands clasped before her. “They’ve been following me for days and…when I saw that your truck was unlocked, and unattended”—I frown as her voice loses its softness and turns sardonic—“I took cover until they left. But they’ll be back. I know they will.”

  She grabs the front of my jacket and yanks me forward, her eyes enormous and pleading. She is stronger than I would have guessed. “Please, wherever you’re going, please take me with you. Before they come back for me. Who knows what they plan on doing with me, but I’m sure it’s something bad.”

  “You’ve been outwitting and outrunning unknown assailants for days?”

  “Yes.” She nods vehemently.

  “On foot?”

  Her hands drop from my jacket and she steps back. “What?”

  I gesture around the mostly barren parking lot. “Where’s your mode of transportation? How exactly are they following you? How many are there? What do they look like? And if they’re so gung ho on apprehending you, what made them take off?”

  “I don’t—I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention. I’ve been too busy trying to stay alive.” As if knowing I don’t believe a word she’s saying, her eyebrows lower, and she hides her eyes from mine.

  The whole situation is mad, and I’d have to be mad as well to even contemplate having her as a travel mate. And yet…free entertainment. Because if she is nothing else, she is certainly amusing. Something niggles at my brain. Something annoying. Knowing it’s my conscience, I could ignore it, or I could face it. There is a reason she is so desperate to leave with me, and I’m pretty sure that at some future time I’ll wonder what I was thinking to agree to this, but…