Mia Found (Starting Fires Book 3) (41 page)

“
So I guess the question is,” Lucas continued, “what are you gonna do about it?”

I knew what I was going to do. I knew what I
had
to do. Mia was pulling me back to her.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

THE WEATHER WAS WARM, a hot breeze blowing my hair. Marlowe and Lucas’s backyard was crowded with more people than I could count.

Lucas was celebrating the opening of his second store and I was proud of my brother. He’d followed his heart, let it lead him. I wondered if one day he would be proud of me too.

I hoped so.

Oregon was on the horizon.

I’d had my phone interview and, later, another via Skype. I hadn’t been nervous. I’d been confident, calm, collected. They’d loved me. Without ever visiting the town, I was taking a giant leap of faith, believing that it would be a good fit for me. My parents were a mess—especially my father. Every time I saw him he was barely able to keep his eyes from misting. He was standing in the corner of the yard, unable to look at me without sniffling.

I only had two more weeks here.

Most of my belongings were boxed. Some things I was leaving behind in storage. I was doing it. I was following my dreams. Setting out on my own. The prospect was both liberating and terrifying.

At my brother’s home, I attempted to push those nervous thoughts aside, but it was all anyone wanted to talk about. Needing some space, I left a group and found Nicole standing alone in the corner of the yard. She was playing on her phone and barely looked up when I approached.

“
Hey,” I said and wondered if Fontenot had talked to her. Since our parting in his driveway, I hadn’t heard a single thing about him. He’d just disappeared.

“
Hey,” she said. “This totally blows. I mean, why does Lucas care if I’m at a party for his new store?”

I chuckled. “I don’t know. Something tells me this is more than that though. He was so mysterious explaining it all.”

Nicole sighed. “Whatever. I’m just ready to get out of here. I’ve got places to be.”

“
Where?” I prodded, wondering if it involved Fontenot.

Her eyes cut to mine and she smiled. “I really don’t. Just like to complain. But, hey, I heard you’re moving to Oregon. That’s awesome. In a few months I plan on taking this road trip across the U.S. Alone.” Nicole huffed. “No one else can go with me. Lacey is all married and shit. Marlowe is all up Lucas’s ass.” She sighed. “What happened to all my friends?”

“
What about Fontenot? Couldn’t he go with you?”

Nicole’s head snapped in my direction. I was pushing it.

“
Fontenot? Why would I take Fontenot? What do you know? Have you talked to him?”

I shook my head. “No, no. Not in a while. I just…I…I mean the last time we talked he had some really nice things to say about you. I thought that maybe...”

Nicole’s eyes narrowed. “Fontenot doesn’t care about anyone but Fontenot. He’s fun for a few days, but that’s it.”

She was so wrong. Fontenot did care about something. Her.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. We dated a long time ago. I’ll admit that he has issues, but I think that if someone new came along, someone willing to put in the time and show him that they cared, he could be really great. And I know that Fontenot really cares about you.”

Nicole rolled her eyes and I laughed. “All right. I’ll stop pushing Fontenot on you.”

Needing to refill my drink, I headed towards the house with one last look over my shoulder. Nicole was biting her fingernail, smiling.

Inside, I approached the drink table and poured another. I was quietly sipping it when I saw him. My spine stiffened and the hair on my arms rose in a chill.

He was standing across the room, whispering to Marlowe, but his eyes kept drifting in my direction. The air left my lungs and I stood there, dumbfounded. Not moving. Not breathing. Mouth slack and eyes wide.

Marlowe gave him a soft push and he started towards me. Before he made it, I rushed away from him and back to the yard.

My lungs were working again, and I took quick, rushed breaths to calm myself. Over the last few weeks, I’d made peace with Paul. I’d decided that what had happened was for the best. It had broken my heart, but it wasn’t defeating me. Instead of dwelling on him, I’d focused on the new job and life I had waiting for me. Everything in my apartment that reminded me of him had been boxed up and put out of sight. But seeing him…

He was wearing gray slacks. His stylish shirt brought out the clear green of his eyes. His hair was longer. It needed to be cut. But it was his face that had done the most damage to my heart. He hadn’t looked at me with longing or love. He’d looked at me with sadness.

The back door opened and Paul came out. I ran away from him again, huddling into a group of people he didn’t know, hoping it would deter him from approaching me. I couldn’t handle it.

What would we say to each other? Would it be awkward? Our small talk and catching up would wear off and then we’d stand there not knowing what to do. My heart couldn’t handle that. Not with Paul.

For over an hour, I avoided him, staying in groups, walking away when he approached. After a while he stopped trying. I couldn’t face him. Not with so many people around. Maybe not even if we were alone.

The sun was setting and Lucas’s little party was livening up. Drinks were flowing more freely and laughter filled the tiny yard. Marlowe and my brother looked so happy.

Envious of their cheer, I searched for Paul. He was standing at the edge of the yard, his back to me. His shoulders looked defeated and a desire to comfort him, to console him, washed over me. I took a step in his direction, but stopped myself and stormed into the house, needing a moment to compose myself.

Alone, I stared into the bathroom mirror. My eyes looked tired, and my cheeks hurt from the forced smiles I’d been wearing all day. Why had he come? There was no purpose to it. He was ruining everything. All of my resolve, all of my strength, it was crumbling now. I gripped the edge of the sink and took a deep breath.

He will not win,
I told myself.
I am okay. I am strong.

Some of my strength returned and I opened the door, but stopped dead when I saw Paul standing at the end of the hall.

I was trapped.

There was nowhere to retreat.

No one to save me from speaking to him.

He walked towards me and my palms sweated. When he was close enough for me to smell him, my eyes closed, getting lost in the memory of him.

Hating myself for that, I looked down and tried to step around him, but he blocked my path.

“
Talk to me,” Paul said.

“
About what?” I said, shocked that I’d found my voice. “There’s nothing more to say.”

Before I knew what was happening, he had my hand in his and dragged me back into the bathroom. His skin on mine made my heart race. Soft, gentle hands that had been wholly devoted to me. Hands that had rubbed my back and caressed my hair. Paul had beautiful hands. Exquisite in their simplicity. Long fingers. Slightly rough.

We could have been standing there for ten minutes. I didn’t know. My eyes were locked onto our joined hands, captivated by the way they looked together. Suddenly, I felt drugged, my head fogging. A surreal pleasant feeling flowed through my veins as I remembered what it had been like to be with him. On its own, my hand landed on his stomach, stretching and feeling his heat through the fabric of his shirt.

Paul finally moved. His other hand landed on the top of my thigh and he pulled me close to him. Our bodies were touching now, melting into a lover’s embrace. Needing to know what he was thinking, I looked into his eyes.

Paul leaned down and kissed me.

I couldn’t help it and fell right into his kiss, moving my lips and holding him close. I kissed him with all the love my bleeding heart still possessed. I kissed him with all the pain my chest carried. I kissed him with my hopes and dreams and wishes.

This is where Paul’s longing hid, where his love still lingered. He could look at me with sadness and regret, but his kiss couldn’t hide the passion he still felt.

His hand went under my shirt and he pulled me closer. My body responded to him—ready to open and offer itself as a sacrifice. My legs moved, preparing to wrap around his waist, but the realization of what was happening charged in like a freight train. It’s loud whistle setting off alarms and warnings.

Paul had left me. He’d broken up with me. He was a selfish coward. All he’d had to do was kiss me and I was willing to let him have me all over again. No apology. No promises.

Angry at myself, I pulled away and smacked him hard on the arm.

Paul flinched, his breaths heavy. Suddenly, I hated him. I hated how he could manipulate me without saying a word. I hated how he thought he could just take my hand and I’d be his again. I hated how he hadn’t told me he was sorry or that he loved me or that he wanted me again. I hated everything about him.

“
Don’t do this,” he said.

Without responding, I opened the door and left him.

In the yard, my heart beat rapidly in my chest. I could hear its
thump, thump, thump
in my ears and wondered if everyone who saw me knew. Did they see the brokenness underneath my skin? Did they see the pain inside my eyes?

I was mostly out of it, too lost in my own thoughts and emotions to fully appreciate what my brother was doing. He’d called everyone’s attention to the middle of the yard where he led Marlowe.

“
Marlowe,” Lucas said, “meeting you was the greatest thing to ever happen to me. You saved me, baby. You showed me what it meant to live.” He went down on one knee and pulled out a small black box. “I love you. And I can’t go another day without seeing this ring on your finger.” Marlowe gasped when he opened it, her hand covering her mouth. “Marry me,” my brother said.

Through quiet sobs, she nodded her head.

My mouth smiled even though my head and heart were warring inside me. Paul stood across the yard, not looking at his friend, but looking at me. His honest eyes were trying to tell me something, to make me see some hidden emotion he had.

I couldn’t read him. Everything was fuzzy and out of control.

I
was out of control.

What did I want? Did I want Paul to make things better? Did I want him to leave me alone? I was moving soon. I wouldn’t be back to Louisiana in months, maybe even longer than that. What future could we really have now?

We hadn’t stopped staring.

Go. Stay. Leave me alone. Come over here and take me home with you.

I needed space. I needed a place to gather my thoughts and understand what all of this meant and how I would handle it when he left again.

Without a goodbye, I grabbed my things and headed home.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

I PACED MY LIVING room—my bare feet running a groove into the cheap carpet. The rhythmic sound of my foot falls grounded me, gave me something to focus on. I counted out their tempo.
One, two. One, two. Turn. One, two. One, two…

I had to. I had to focus on it because I couldn’t think about what my heart wanted me to. The man that I loved. The man who’d broken my heart. The man who walked right back in and kissed me.

Soft lips. Gentle. Paul always knew how I wanted him. More. Less. Intense. Timid. My eyes closed and I remembered what those lips had felt like, how my middle had turned to a warm puddle. I’d felt weightless, brittle.

My love for him ran deep. It was tattooed onto my veins, pumping in my blood. A horrible realization occurred to me. Had I loved him more than he loved me? When I thought about all I’d been willing to do for him, all I
had
done, and all the things he hadn’t, tears came to my eyes.

I had loved him more. I was sure of it now.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

The gentle rapping broke my thoughts and me feet halted. Frozen, I stared at my door.

The rapping returned.

Nervous, I walked towards it and peeked through the peephole, squeaking when I saw Paul standing on my doorstep.

“
Mia?” Paul said. “Mia, are you in there?”

I looked down at myself. I was wearing shorts and a white tank top. My hair was a mess, all wild from my worrying with it. I ran my fingers through it, but abruptly stopped.

Why did I care what I looked like?

I took a breath and opened the door, but walked away from it, not speaking. My back was to him and I heard the latch catch. We were alone in my apartment again.

The last time he’d been here, he’d broken up with me.

“
What do you want?” I asked.

“
To talk to you.”

“
About what?”

“
Mia…Look at me. Please.”