Mia Found (Starting Fires Book 3) (45 page)

My face scrunched up in pain and I hid it in his chest. “Why didn’t you call me?” I said. “Why didn’t you try to get in touch with me? I’ve been miserable.”

Paul held me to him and rubbed my back. “The truth is I didn’t know if I’d be able to get out of this employer contract or if I’d be able to move. I didn’t want to give you halves. You deserve wholes, Pretty.”

He cradled my face in his hands and wiped my tears away. “I’m here, all of me is here, and I love you. Please, Mia, please…take me back.”

I looked up at him and nodded. “I only ever want you, Paul.”

Paul kissed me.

This was different than any other kiss we’d had.

This wasn’t passionate or hungry or desperate or sweet.

This kiss was healing. It took our broken parts, our lonely parts, our bleeding parts and fused them together. We were clicking in place, aligning. Both of us were where we needed to be.

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

DAYS BECAME NOTHING TO me. Paul and I were blissfully unaware of their passing. He found a small apartment to rent. Even though he stayed with me nearly every night, he insisted on keeping it. He said he needed to carry his weight and couldn’t expect to move to Oregon and live off my success. He wanted to start over, to build himself up from scratch.

I let him.

Our family was complete when Ferdinand joined us. He was miserable in our tiny apartments, so I enrolled him in a doggy daycare and took him on park dates as much as I could.

It took Paul longer than he would have liked to find a job and in the end it was far less challenging than what he was used to. I worried for him the first few weeks.

After a while, it became clear the Paul was adjusting to this new, less demanding lifestyle. For the first time in years, he was able to take up hobbies. He was home every night for dinner and not rushing off to get takeout. He even had every weekend off. Not knowing what else to do with his free time, Paul tried his hand at writing.

It started out with small short stories that were fascinating. Paul had a creativity he wasn’t even aware of and with each attempt his stories became better. He was so uncertain and timid about this new passion. Late at night, we’d sit in my bed, Ferdinand at our feet, and I’d read his new stories aloud. Most often, Paul buried his head in the pillow or closed his eyes.

“
You hated it,” he’d say almost every time.

But I didn’t. I loved them. Each and every one. Paul had a beautiful way of seeing the world, as if he saw everything through this shimmering lens. The mundane became fantasy. The mediocre became fairytale.

“
No. Oh my goodness, Paul this is good. I never knew you could write like this.”

His smile would be bashful and proud.

“
I used to,” he said. “When I was younger, and then I tried again a while back. Marjorie read some of it, but she didn’t seem to think it was any good.”

“
Well, Marjorie is crazy,” I said.

As the months progressed I found myself grateful to her. I almost wanted to call and tell her how grateful I was. She had let Paul go. She had prepared him for me. True, she had broken his heart and left him feeling worthless and cast aside, but I picked up the pieces she left behind. I showed Paul how marvelous and worthy of love he was, and it was worth it.

Paul lived and breathed me. He always found some way to touch me, to hold me close. Our bubble was all around us now. Strong and fully formed. I didn’t worry about it popping, but even if it did, it wouldn’t matter. Paul and I were two souls made from the same stone. I was his, and he was mine.

It had been months since Paul came to Oregon to win me back. My job at The Charles Dale Museum wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t without stress. Paul’s job wasn’t perfect either. We sometimes fought over stupid things, like choosing a restaurant or where to go on day trips. We grew annoyed with each other in the small confines of our homes, but underneath all that was this impenetrable love. With each day it grew deeper, stronger.

One Saturday afternoon, we were sitting on my couch watching a movie. He draped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his side, his smile stretching wide.

“
What is it?” I asked.

“
This,” he said. “Sitting with you, here. I’m not thinking about work. I’m not thinking about stress. I’m thinking about you and how perfect you feel tucked into my side. This is happiness, Mia. Thank you.”

“
For what?”

“
For loving me. For giving me too many chances. I promise you won’t regret them.”

I never did.

EPILOGUE

Paul—A small cottage in Oregon

THE MANUSCRIPT BEFORE ME was still warm, fresh off my printer. My fingers rubbed soft lines across the cover page. I’d done it. I’d actually finished it. My smile was a mix of happiness and pride.

A delighted squeal echoed through the window and I looked up to watch Mia run around our backyard, Ferdinand on her heels. The big dog jumped and frolicked right alongside her.

Her flowing, purple dress swished with her movements and I propped my chin against my palm to admire her.

Mia was life.

She’d saved mine.

I’d been tumbling down into a pit, letting life pass by. I hadn’t expected her. I’d likely even pushed her away. When we’d first met, I’d thought,
to hell with it. You deserve a little happiness.
I hadn’t known how she’d change me. How she’d come in and demand to be seen and loved.

My life today was unrecognizable from the life before her. Mia had split me in two.

Our cute house in the southern hills of Oregon was the first of many adventures I’d have with her. Our next was tucked away in my nightstand drawer. She’d say yes when I asked. She wouldn’t even hesitate. I smiled imagining her big, dark eyes beam with happiness as I gave it to her.

My heart constricted, knowing that I didn’t deserve her love. I hadn’t earned it. I hadn’t nurtured it as I should have. When we’d first started dating, I squandered it and followed my greed instead of my heart. I’d assumed Mia would be like all the rest—that she’d want something steady to cling to, something stable, secure.

But Mia was the bright wildflower in the sea of thistles.

She’d forced me to look inward, to see what my selfishness was costing me. She’d held my hand as I walked out into the unknown, leaving behind everything and starting over.

My car was falling apart. We barely made our house note each month. But we laughed. We kissed. We cuddled under the stars and talked about our hopes and dreams. Even now I felt that pull, that steady, taut string that bound me to her. My soul had been searching for her. It had needed her.

She felt my stare and looked over her shoulder to smile at me.

The weight of its love settled into my chest and I smiled back.

Mia was life. And I was gladly giving her all of mine.

Fontenot—Several Months Earlier on a Road Trip Across the U.S.

I’m a piece of shit.

I am a piece of shit.

I’ve lived my life one way for far too long. But now that I want it to change…I just…can’t.

I mean, do I
really
want it to change? I go where I want. I see what I want. I fuck who I want. Why would I throw all of that away?

And for what? A stupid girl?

No thanks.

I took a swig of my beer. The city landscape was stunning from this window. Where was I anyway? Nicole had told me, but somewhere between the liquor and the redhead lying in my bed, I’d forgotten.

It was early. Too early. The sun hadn’t even risen. The beer took the edge off but I still had a sick pit in my stomach. I’d have to face her at some point today.

What would I say?

I didn’t
have
to say anything. She knew who I was—what I was. I didn’t owe her an explanation.

Where is she?
I couldn’t help but wonder.

Probably doing the same thing as me—staring out of a window wondering where we both went wrong.

No matter how much I wanted it, I knew we were poison to each other. She was fuel to my fire and I was the tipping point to her insanity.

I knew how to make her explode, and worse than that, I did it on purpose. I pushed her buttons because I wanted to see those eyes darken. When that fire spewed from her mouth, not a woman on earth could compete.

She got under my skin.

Worse than her passion was her smile. On the rare occasion that I did something right, she’d gift me with it, and it was all I could do not to fall on my knees in front of her.

I sighed, rubbing a hand through my hair. I smelled like cigarettes and sex. The beer was done and I tossed it in the trash can with a
clank.

The redhead stirred.

“
Baby,” she purred. “Come back to bed.”

I’d rather eat glass.

“
I’m getting in the shower,” I told her, not even bothering to turn around. “When I get out, you better be gone. Call a cab. Walk. I don’t care.”

She was silent, but I didn’t flinch when one of her shoes hit me in the back.

“
You’re a piece of shit, Fontenot!” she yelled.

“
Yeah, I know.”

The End

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I wrote the first draft of this book, let a few people read it, and then realized I hated it. Almost all of it. So I set about re-writing it to my liking and ended up trashing nearly half the book. The original version of this story is vastly different. This version is better. This is the version Paul and Mia were meant to have and I’m so glad I get the chance to share it with you.

I’ve learned so much about myself since releasing my first book and I know that I still have
so much more
to learn. If you’ve been a fan from the beginning, I can’t thank you enough. I’m grateful to you, so grateful. If you’re new to me, thank you for taking a chance on this starving writer.

Kristen, has it really been 9 years since we bonded over mutual hatred in a parking lot? You’ve known and loved me through the most important parts of my life. You’ve seen me grow. You’ve seen me struggle. You’ve seen me cry and laugh. I love you. Thank you for being there. Thank you for reading my stories and telling me exactly what you think. Thank you for listening to me. Thank you for introducing me to the Dark Hunters and BDB and Doctor Who and Supernatural and a million other things. You bring light and laughter to my life.

Cassandra Carpio or @thebookishcrypt, first, I love your pictures. You have a beautiful way of seeing the world. Thank you for loving my books and sharing them with your followers. Receiving your messages always made my day.

Shelley Ruffin Collum, thank you for your kindness, for loving my words, telling others about them and being my biggest fan. I hope Paul and Mia made you proud. You were the first person to read about them and were there from the beginning. Thank you so much.