Mia Found (Starting Fires Book 3)

by Makenzie Smith

  Since he was my brother, I, of course, rolled my eyes, but his words stayed with me as I drove to Gladys’s house.

  What was my soul pulling me towards?

  Gladys wasn’t home and I sat in her driveway, staring off into space. If I closed my eyes and cleared my mind, I could feel it. It was what I’d been feeling this whole time, since the moment I laid eyes on him.

  Every time I’d ever seen him. Every time he’d ever smiled at me. Every kiss. Every word. Every beautiful day. My soul had been pulling me towards Paul for over a year.

  A sob tore out of my chest.

  It wasn’t fair.

  It wasn’t fair to love someone this greatly. To have them screw with your head and heart.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  “Hey, dearie,” Gladys said at my window and I jumped out of my skin.

  Her neighbor’s car pulled out of the driveway and into its own.

  Jerk. They could have at least helped her up the stairs. Gladys was still fumbling around in her crutches and cast.

  “I don’t know why you didn’t let me come get you,” I said, getting out of the car. I wrapped an arm around her waist and helped her maneuver the sidewalk.

  “Oh, no, no, no. You’ve already sacrificed too much of your time for me. Besides, I knew today would be big for you. You’ve been distracting yourself with me. You needed this morning for yourself.”

  I smiled as we ascended the steps. “Oh yeah. And how do you know this morning was important?”

  “Oh hush, Mia. You know I have my ways.”

  Inside, I set Gladys up in the living room and made sure the house would be easily maneuverable for her. The spare room downstairs was her makeshift bedroom until she was stronger and able to tackle the stairs.

  I’d been flitting around her house for hours, doing laundry, setting up her room, making sure she had everything she needed close at hand. Finally Gladys stopped me, grabbing my wrist and pulling me down to sit beside her on the couch.

  “Mia, dear. What are you doing?”

  “Helping you,” I said.

  Gladys pursed her lips and shook her head. “Helping yourself, you mean. And I’m not even sure you’re doing that.”

  “What do you mean?” I hated when she spoke this way. In riddles.

  “Your eyes are lifeless. Your face is pale. Your limbs are dead at your sides. You are a walking heartache, Mia. You’ve spoken to Paul haven’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And…”

  “And he said he was sorry and that he still loves me. Is this where you tell me to forget that he left me? Forget all the negligence? Just to throw it all away and give him another chance because my soul is pulling towards him or some other wizardly garbage because I’m not–”

  “Mia.”

  “I’m not in the mood to–”

  “Mi-ah.”

  I huffed. “What?”

  “I’m not going to tell you that. It’s obvious that you still have some issues to work through with this.”

  I hated that word. Issues. It made me feel like I had a problem. I didn’t have a problem.

  “But I am going to say that you should talk to him. Tell him what you want. What you expect. If he can’t do that for you, fine. It’s not meant to be. If he can, then maybe you should try again. It’s up to you though. Do what you feel is best.”

  I sat in silence mulling over what she’d said. There was likely some wisdom in there—even if it was weird, Gladys wisdom. The problem was I didn’t even know where to find Paul. Had he already left? He hadn’t told me if he was staying in the city.

  “Okay,” I said, standing. “I’ll think about it.”

  I made a few more last minute adjustments to her house and left. My phone dinged while I was walking down the driveway.

  I’m at the Greenville Inn Downtown. Room 301. Leaving tomorrow morning. If you want to talk to me this is where I’ll be.

  There it was. That pull. That slight jerk in my stomach, begging me to follow the trail leading to Paul.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  IT WASN’T EVEN DARK yet. For some reason I couldn’t face Paul in the light of day. It felt too open, too honest. I needed the shelter of darkness to be my shield. I was going to see him, that much had already been decided, but what I would say and how I would say it was unclear.

  In my heart, I knew that I wanted him, that I needed him. But it couldn’t be like it was. It couldn’t be phone calls when we had the chance or visits when a weekend happened to come up. I needed more than that. I deserved more than that.

  I drove to the same spot Fontenot had taken me on his goodbye night and gazed out at the water. My mind was so full that I was in a daze, not even truly comprehending what the thoughts were.

  I was still.

  The water was still.

  It felt like something momentous was coming. Something that would dictate the rest of my life. It was a terrifying feeling. Despite having graduated college and living on my own for years, I was still such a child at heart. Taking a step out into the great unknown didn’t feel empowering. It felt like I was walking into a lion’s den with nothing but a whiffle bat to protect me.

  My eyes burned and I realized that I hadn’t blinked in ages. I shook myself out of my thoughts and noticed that the sun had fallen. Swallowing the knot in my throat, I started my car and drove to Paul’s hotel.

  I hardly remember walking into the lobby. I don’t even remember getting into the elevator or pushing the button. My heart was pounding in my ears as I turned corners and found his door. I knocked before I lost my nerve and fiddled with my hands, nervous, excited and scared all at once.

  I heard a commotion behind the door and Paul yelling, “Just a second. Don’t leave! Just a second.”

  I felt exposed standing there waiting for him. Whatever small resolve or will I’d mustered was petering out. He answered the door with a soaking wet head of hair and a towel loosely tied around his waist.

  This wasn’t fair.

  His torso shined in the dim light and everything about him sent my nerves into overdrive. We made eye contact and I moistened my lips.

  Paul’s eyes grew heavy and he pulled me into the room.

  I had no more strength. No more resolve. I let him shut the door and push my back against it. My hands fell on his waist and my lower body pushed into his, seeking him.

  Paul’s lips met mine in a fury. We were all clumsy hands and frantic mouths. Touching. Squeezing. Losing ourselves in the desperation. My clothes were gone, thrown in a corner or pooled at my feet. Paul’s towel dropped, and my hands grasped on to him, slowly pumping.

  His moan against my lips made my knees buckle and then I was in his arms, being carried to the bed.

  We didn’t utter a word to each other. My mind was incapable of speech. It could only focus on his body above me, pushing my legs apart, settling his weight.

  I was transfixed by how good this felt, how perfect it was to be his and have him take me.

  I cried out when he entered me. It was sharp and pained, cutting off like my breath had left me. As he moved, I wrapped my legs around his waist and joined him, pushing, trying to get as close to him as I could. It was never close enough. An insatiable ache brewed inside me and no matter how fast we moved or how deep he went, I couldn’t sate it.

  I flipped him onto his back and settled, loving the way his eyes nearly closed as I rode him. He wanted to let them fall. He wanted to relish this and get lost to his senses, but seeing me above him was too enticing and he couldn’t bring himself to give in.

  His hands encouraged me, trailing up my legs and waist, holding me there, letting his strong arms assist my movements. Where his pace had been fast and greedy, mine was slow and sensual, feeling every inch of him entering and retreating. His thighs tightened beneath me and his teeth ground together.

  Paul was close, but I wasn’t ready. I wanted this to last all night.

  Hours had passed and we still hadn’t spoken a word
to each other. The sheets and comforter were bunched, not even covering the bed anymore. Our skin was slick with sweat and we lay horizontal on the bed, side by side, the only sound our labored breathing.

  Paul reached down to floor and grabbed the sheet, covering us.

  It was strange. He’d just taken me every way imaginable but when he cuddled into my side, I flinched. My sex haze was finally broken and I could focus on more than just the physicality of him.

  “Paul,” I said, my voice sounding strange to my ears.

  “Hmm?” he said, kissing my shoulder.

  “This doesn’t mean we’re back together.”

  His whole body tightened and he pulled back to look at me. “What does it mean then?”

  I didn’t blame him for sounding angry. I would have been devastated had he said those words to me. Needing to put some space between us, I sat up, covering my body with the sheet.

  Paul didn’t seem to mind his nakedness and didn’t even bother compensating for my movements. Every inch of him was on display, and I focused on the wall across the room to keep from ogling him.

  “We aren’t back together. You can’t say and do the things you did and just expect me to give in.”

  “What the hell was all this then? Some break up sex? What the fuck, Mia?” Paul jumped from the bed and rummaged through his suitcase pulling out a pair of boxers. He pulled them up his legs and turned on me. “I don’t do that, all right? I don’t have break up sex. If I’d known that’s what this was, I wouldn’t have done it. Jesus!”

  “Paul.”

  “I’ve been sitting around this room waiting for you all day and then you come in here, don’t even say a word, just fall right into bed with me, and then say this shit. Mia that is some serious mixed signals. I meant everything I said to you last night. I fucking meant it. I don’t want to break up with you. I don’t want to spend another day apart from you.”

  “Paul.”

  He rubbed his hands down his face, rubbing some tension out of his eyes. “I can’t believe this. I don’t know what else I can say to you. What else I can give you. If I knew what you needed, I’d do it. I’d go back in time if I could, stop myself from saying that stupid, ridiculous shit.”

  “Paul!”

  “What?” he barked, but fell silent. He was standing at the foot of the bed, the small desk lamp casting a glow along his side. He truly was beautiful. And despite how upset and angry I’d been at him, I could see the pain in his eyes now. The frustration. The true regret.

  He hadn’t wanted to end things. He’d been stupid, selfish. He’d gotten me all wrong. Maybe he’d gotten us wrong from nearly the beginning.

  I wasn’t Marjorie, but I also wasn’t a doormat. I wanted to be on his team, not someone trailing behind in his wake.

  “I’m moving to Oregon, Paul. I have to. This is important. I feel it. Something out there is waiting for me. I wouldn’t have gone had you not broken up with me. So in a way, I guess I’m glad you did. This doesn’t mean we’re back together, but it also doesn’t mean that I don’t want you. I do. But not like before.

  “I can’t do this back and forth anymore. I can’t go to sleep wondering what you’re doing and who you’re doing it with. I can’t sit around waiting on phone calls or texts. I can’t live on a few days every couple months. I want more than that. I deserve more than that.”

  His head was bowed, but his green eyes peered up at me. He was working something out, trying to process all of this. Maybe trying to find a way to talk me into staying with him.

  “Can you get me my clothes?” I asked.

  Paul walked towards the door and brought them back to me. It was kind of insulting that I changed beneath the sheets, but doing it openly felt like even more of a mixed signal.

  I wanted to hug him as I left, to kiss him one last time, not knowing if I ever would again. In the end, I couldn’t do it.

  My hand was on the door, turning the handle when Paul said, “I won’t stop chasing you, Mia. If you’re going to Oregon, I’ll find some way to be there too. If you go to Saudi Arabia or Russia, or South Africa, it won’t matter. Wherever you are, I’ll find a way to be there too and it’s because you’re meant for me. I can’t stay apart from you.”

  “I hope that’s true,” I said and left.

  I made it all the way to my car before I broke down and cried.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  MY FATHER COULDN’T SEE me off at the airport. “It’s not right for people to see a grown man cry like this,” he’d said standing on their front porch.

  My family had thrown me a farewell dinner where they poured gifts onto me, hoping to ease my journey across the country. Lucas and Marlowe seemed to be the only two excited about my move. My father was devastated. My mother was hesitant, perhaps scared for me. But my brother and Marlowe were all smiles and optimism. I’d put on the brave face all night, but inside I was a mix of emotions.

  When the plane took off, I felt the inertia trying to keep me grounded, not wanting me to leave. A part of me didn’t want to either. With each mile gained, it was another one further from Paul. We hadn’t spoken since I’d left his hotel and I had to accept that I might not ever again.

  Accepting it didn’t dull the ache in my chest.

  The first few days were a whirlwind of movers and signing leases and getting acquainted with my new city. It was mountainous, tucked in between the Cascades and pure wilderness. For me, it was like walking into a fairy tale. I’d never seen anything so green and poetic in my life. The air was always hazy, as if the sky constantly threatened rain.

  It was depressing. And since I was depressed, I welcomed it.

  Half a dozen times, I pulled up Paul’s number, nearly calling. I wanted him to know that I’d made it, that I’d done it—taken this leap and set out on my own. Everything felt hollow not being able to share it with him. This is for the best. This is for the best.

  I couldn’t afford to look back. I’d made my choice and needed to make the best of it.

  My first day at work consisted mostly of following people around and signing more paperwork. I was starting out at the bottom, but the museum was large and well taken care of. The community was very invested in its success and I felt honored to be chosen for the job.

  Catherine had seen to that. When I’d told her goodbye and tried to thank her, she waved my statements away. “Nonsense, Mia. You have a talent and should use it. I’m happy to help,” she’d said.

  Pieces of my art still hung in Atlantis and in the end I’d donated them, not wanting the money from their sell. That part of my life was over and I needed to move on. I was shedding my skin, starting over and becoming a new Mia.

  My job mostly entailed giving tours but one day a week I worked with the senior curators. With them, I had more hands on experience—dealing with pieces and studying their history. It was Monday and I found myself begging for Friday—my special day.

  To keep from going crazy, I was at work as early as possible, walking the rooms, trying to remember where each piece was, who’d made it, where they were from, what their life was like, and similar works. I lived and breathed the museum. I stayed until closing. I went out for drinks with my co-workers.

  Most of them were older than me, but another girl was close to my age. She was having an affair with one of the directors. She didn’t tell me, but she didn’t have to. The stink of their love was oozing off their skin. I wasn’t sure what the policy for that sort of thing was, but wouldn’t say anything.

  Her name was Matilda and she had the brightest blue eyes I’d ever seen. Her smile was contagious and I gravitated towards her, hoping that some of her happiness would rub off on me.

  Every night, the director, Jim, would leave the bar, and like clockwork, Matilda would give me a big smile and leave shortly after. The giddiness in her step made my throat hurt, like an invisible hand was squeezing the tears back.

  My Friday came, and I blinked it away. Before I knew it, the museum was closing.


  “Mia,” Jim said. “It’s closing time.”

  “Really? Oh, wow. I didn’t even realize.” Carefully, I put the painting I’d been examining back in its place. “Today was great.”

  Jim smiled, holding the door open. “You did wonderful. I’m glad you applied, we needed someone with your passion on board.”

  “This has all been a dream. I mean, I can’t even really believe that I landed this.”

  “Believe it, Mia,” Jim called walking down the hall. “I can’t make drinks tonight. Do you mind giving them my regrets?”

  “No problem.”

  I smiled to myself as I was walking out. Something told me that Matilda wouldn’t be out for drinks either.

  The bar we frequented was right around the corner, and my apartment was just down the street from that. I stopped in front of the bar and peered into the window. All of my coworkers were there, but seeing them laugh made me feel empty. I didn’t want to sit at a table and pretend that I was okay.

  I wanted to be okay.

  Instead of going in, I walked right by and made it to my apartment within a few minutes.

  It was dark when I entered and instead of turning on the lamp, I walked over to my couch and sat, letting the darkness surround me.

  I will not cry, I told myself. This was good. This was everything I wanted. What reason did I have to be sad?

  For a few minutes the only sound was my struggled breaths and the gentle swish of cars passing outside my window. When the darkness became too much, I flicked on the lamp. My apartment was still so bare. Boxes hanging around in corners and nothing on my walls. Nothing but one thing.

  Its blues and purples made a choked sob burst from my mouth.

  My hand.

  Paul’s hand.

  Intertwined on a canvas.