What’s Left to Burn

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

MIA

T he museum was quiet the next morning, the kind of stillness that made Mia feel both at peace and completely restless. She should’ve been focused on the new exhibit, checking the lighting around the centerpiece display and ensuring the placards were perfectly positioned. Instead, her thoughts kept drifting back to last night.

To him.

Mia straightened a placard beneath a delicate hand-painted porcelain vase from the 18th century, but her fingers lingered longer than necessary, her mind replaying every detail of their brief conversation. The quiet strength in his voice. The way his eyes had held hers, like he was trying to see past her words and into something deeper. And, of course, the way he’d apologized as he left, his reluctance as obvious as the heat in the air between them.

She sighed, stepping back from the display to examine it from a distance. The vase gleamed under the soft museum lights, pristine and untouchable, a stark contrast to the tangled mess of emotions knotting in her chest.

“Mia, you okay?”

The voice startled her, pulling her from her thoughts. She turned to see her best friend, Tonya Lewis, standing in the doorway of the gallery. Tonya’s sleek navy blazer and pencil skirt looked as flawless as always, her natural poise putting everyone around her to shame. She crossed her arms and leaned casually against the frame, the kind of relaxed confidence that came from knowing you had your life together.

“Can you take a break?” she asked, glancing at her watch as Mia nodded. “I’ve got exactly thirty minutes before I have to get back to Legal Aid, so spill. What’s on your mind?” Her dark eyes studied Mia with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Just ... distracted, I guess,” Mia said, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Tonya raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Distracted by work or distracted by something—or someone—else?”

Mia gave her a pointed look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, please.” Tonya crossed her arms, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “I saw the way you were looking at that guy last night. What was his name? Sage?”

Heat crept up Mia’s neck. “I wasn’t looking at him any particular way.”

“Sure you weren’t.” Tonya leaned against the edge of the display case, her expression skeptical. “You’ve got to give me something here, Mia. You’ve been avoiding people for as long as I’ve known you. And then, out of nowhere, you’re standing on a porch with a smoking hot guy who looks like he walked out of an action movie, and I’m supposed to believe you weren’t interested? He certainly seemed interested in you.”

Mia opened her mouth to argue, but the words didn’t come. Because Tonya wasn’t wrong. She was interested. And that was the problem.

“He’s military,” Mia said finally, as if that explained everything.

Tonya tilted her head. “So? Half the guys in Charleston are either in the military or used to be.”

“Exactly,” Mia said, her voice quieter. “And you know why that’s an issue.”

Tonya’s teasing demeanor softened, and she straightened, her tone gentler now. “You can’t live your life being scared of what might happen. Not every story ends the same way.”

Mia glanced at the vase again, its fragile beauty almost mocking in its perfection. “You don’t know that,” she murmured.

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the faint hum of the museum’s air conditioning. Even in February, Charleston was warm during the day. Finally, Tonya sighed. “Did you get his number?”

“No,” Mia admitted, her chest tightening at the thought.

Tonya rolled her eyes. “Then find a way to get it. Or just wait around until he shows up again. Charleston’s not that big, you know.”

Mia laughed despite herself. “That’s your solution? Wait for fate to intervene?”

“It worked last night, didn’t it?” Tonya said, flashing her a grin as she glanced at her watch. “Speaking of time, I’ve now got exactly twenty minutes before I need to get back to the office. Let’s grab coffee at the café downstairs, and you can tell me all about what happened with this Sage guy when the two of you were out back.”

Mia laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Someone’s gotta keep you on your toes,” Tonya said, her tone light but her gaze sharp. It was classic Tonya—equal parts teasing and direct, a mix that made her an excellent attorney and an even better friend.

The two of them started down the polished hallway, their heels clicking in rhythm against the tiled floor. The museum’s grand hall loomed ahead, sunlight pouring in through the tall windows and spilling across the marble like a spotlight. It was Mia’s favorite part of the building, but today, even its quiet elegance couldn’t calm her nerves.

Tonya nudged her with an elbow. “You’ve been acting strange ever since I got here. You’re shook, aren’t you?”

Mia gave her a sidelong look. “Maybe. But it doesn’t matter. Like I said, he’s military. That’s a complication I don’t need.”

Tonya sighed dramatically, tossing her hands up. “Mia Dawson, queen of self-sabotage. A good-looking, charming guy comes along, and you’ve already written him off without giving him a chance.”

“It’s not that simple,” Mia muttered, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. “You know it’s not.”

Tonya’s teasing softened, her tone growing more thoughtful. “You can’t let fear dictate your entire life, Mia. I’m not saying you have to throw yourself at the guy, but maybe ... don’t slam the door shut before you’ve even peeked through the window.”

Mia stayed silent, her mind replaying the way Sage had looked at her last night—like he saw something in her no one else had. Her stomach tightened at the memory, a mix of curiosity and something dangerously close to hope. She hesitated, then glanced at Tonya, her best friend’s steady presence grounding her.

“Maybe I’m just better off on my own,” Mia said, forcing the words out before she could second-guess herself.

Tonya frowned. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Try to convince yourself you’re not allowed to be happy,” Tonya said, her voice low and deliberate. She leaned against the edge of the display case, her arms crossed as she studied Mia. “I’ve known you since we were sixteen, and you’ve been like this as long as I can remember. Always putting up walls. Always thinking you have to handle everything by yourself.”

Mia’s lips twitched, a small, humorless smile tugging at the corners. “Well, you know what my mom always says: ‘You can only depend on yourself.’”

“Anne Dawson,” Tonya muttered, shaking her head. “That woman ... I know she loves you, but she’s got a strange way of showing it.”

Mia shrugged, brushing her fingertips over the edge of the vase on display. “She just ... wants me to be strong. Independent. She didn’t have the same opportunities growing up, so she’s always been big on making sure I can take care of myself.”

“Sure,” Tonya said, “but there’s a difference between being independent and shutting people out. You know I’m right.”

Mia sighed, her gaze drifting to the sunlight filtering through the tall windows. “It’s not just her, though. You remember what it was like after the accident.”

Tonya softened, her posture shifting as she took a step closer. “Of course, I remember. You don’t talk about it much, but I remember what you told me.”

Mia nodded, her throat tightening as the memories bubbled to the surface. She didn’t like revisiting them, but sometimes they crept in anyway, uninvited and vivid. The screech of tires, the sharp jolt of impact, the way her father’s voice had cut through the chaos as he tried to calm everyone down. She’d only been seven, but the sounds and sensations of that day were etched into her bones.

“After that, everything just ... changed,” Mia said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mom got more overprotective, but in this weird, tough-love way. Dad poured himself into his work. And me? I don’t know. I just felt ... out of place. Like I didn’t fit anywhere anymore.”

Tonya gave her a knowing look. “Which is why you left Asheville the first chance you got.”

Mia let out a soft laugh, though it didn’t hold much humor. “Exactly. College in Charleston was my escape plan. And then I ended up staying because it felt easier than going back.”

“And you found the museum,” Tonya added, her voice lighter now. “Or, should I say, the museum found you.”

Mia smiled, a genuine one this time. “I guess you could put it that way. That internship during senior year pretty much sealed the deal. And here I am, six years later, cataloging artifacts and chasing grants.”

“Six years,” Tonya said, shaking her head. “I still can’t believe you’re not running the place by now. You’re way more qualified than half the people there.”

Mia rolled her eyes. “Tell that to Lakella Blaine.”

“Lakella,” Tonya scoffed, a hint of humor creeping back into her voice. “I don’t care if she is the director here. That woman wouldn’t recognize potential if it walked up to her in a designer dress. You’re the best thing this museum has going for it, and everyone knows it.”

“Not her,” Mia muttered, but she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. “Anyway, enough about me. How’s work going for you? Still saving the world one immigration case at a time?”

Tonya straightened, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from her blazer. “Someone’s got to do it.”

“You make it sound like I’ve got it easy,” Mia teased, grateful for the shift in focus. “At least I don’t have to argue with judges and deal with angry clients all day.”

“True,” Tonya admitted, “but you do have to deal with Lakella, which might be worse.”

They both laughed, the tension easing between them. But as the laughter faded, Mia’s thoughts drifted back to Sage, unbidden and persistent. She didn’t know why he’d left such an impression on her in such a short amount of time, but the memory of him felt sharp and real, like a piece of him had embedded itself in her mind and refused to let go.

“You’re doing it again,” Tonya said, her voice cutting through the quiet.

Mia blinked, glancing at her. “Doing what?”

“Getting lost in your head. Let me guess—Sage?”

Mia hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “I don’t know what it is about him, Tonya. It’s not just that he’s ... good-looking or interesting. There’s something else. Something I can’t explain.”

Tonya raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical but curious. “Like what?”

Mia hesitated, her mind drifting to the dreams. The fire. The smoke. The way she’d seen him—someone who looked just like him—so many times before. But she couldn’t say that out loud, not even to Tonya. It sounded ridiculous.

“Like ... I’ve met him before,” Mia said finally, the words feeling inadequate but true.

Tonya’s brow furrowed, and she studied Mia with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “You sure you’re not just making excuses to avoid putting yourself out there?”

Mia shook her head. “No. This is different. I just ... I don’t know how to explain it.”

They stopped outside the museum café, the faint scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the open doorway. Before they could go inside, though, Tonya’s phone buzzed, and she glanced at the screen with a sigh. “Looks like I’m out of time sooner than expected. Duty calls. I’ll have to catch up with you this evening.”

Mia nodded, her thoughts still elsewhere. “Go save the world.”

Tonya grinned. “That’s the plan. You? Go find this guy before I do it for you. You know, I could easily contact Matt and ask for Sage’s number.”

“Bye, Tonya,” Mia said with a laugh, waving her off as her friend disappeared down the hallway.

Alone again, Mia leaned against the wall outside the café, her mind spinning. What if Tonya was right? What if she was letting fear hold her back? The thought made her chest tighten, the old, familiar panic creeping in. But then another thought struck her, quieter but more insistent.

What if Sage was different? What if he wasn’t just another complication, but something more?

Her fingers hovered over her phone, torn between searching his name and leaving things to fate. The rational part of her told her to let it go. But the part of her that had spent years haunted by the same dreams couldn’t help wondering if Sage Cole was the answer she hadn’t been looking for.

Mia’s fingers drifted to the edge of her phone, her thumb brushing the smooth surface as if it might conjure an answer all on its own. Searching for Sage would be easy. A quick scan of social media, maybe a message to one of the guys who’d thrown the party. She could ask Tonya to contact Matt. And yet, something held her back, a quiet voice in her head warning her to tread carefully.

The café’s door swung open, the soft bell jingling as an older couple stepped out, chatting animatedly about the exhibit they’d just seen. Their voices faded as they passed, leaving Mia in the silence of her thoughts once again. She sighed, slipping her phone back into her bag.

If it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen, she told herself, though the words felt more like a flimsy excuse than conviction.

The sound of her own heels echoed faintly as she made her way back through the gallery. The space, normally one of her favorite places, felt too quiet now, like it was waiting for something to happen. Or maybe she was just projecting.

Back in the exhibit hall, she busied herself with minor adjustments to the display. It was a familiar rhythm, soothing in its predictability. Yet her thoughts continued to drift, unbidden, to Sage. His voice, low and steady, still lingered in her ears. The way his gaze had held hers had felt unsettlingly familiar.

She leaned closer to the vase, adjusting its placard until it was perfectly aligned. As she stepped back, her reflection in the glass caught her eye. Her dark hair was pulled back into a loose knot, but a few strands had escaped, framing her face. Her lipstick had faded to a faint stain, and her sleeveless blouse, though professional, clung to her shoulders. She looked like herself, but there was something off in her expression—an unease she couldn’t quite shake.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, startling her out of her thoughts. She pulled it out, half expecting Tonya to have followed up with some quip about Sage. Instead, it was a message from Lakella. Meeting in twenty. Bring the gala plans.

Mia sighed, slipping the phone back into her bag. The gala. Of course. The annual event was less about showcasing the museum’s work and more about catering to Charleston’s elite. Lakella lived for it. Mia dreaded it.

Gathering her materials, she made her way upstairs to the administrative offices. The shift from the cool, elegant galleries to the harsh fluorescent lighting of the back offices was always jarring, like stepping behind the curtain of a perfectly staged play. Lakella was already seated at the head of the conference table when Mia arrived, her posture as straight as a marble column. She wore a fitted burgundy dress and a string of pearls, her perfectly manicured fingers tapping lightly against the edge of a folder.

“You’re late,” Lakella said without looking up.

Mia checked her watch. “By two minutes.”

“Two minutes is two minutes,” Lakella replied, her tone clipped. “Let’s not make a habit of it.”

Mia bit back a sigh and took her seat, spreading out the gala plans in front of her. Across the table, Jim Schklar gave her a small, reassuring smile, his kind eyes crinkling behind his wire-rimmed glasses. The older man had always been a steadying presence in the museum, his quiet wisdom and sharp wit often balancing out Lakella’s sharp edges. Mia appreciated him more than she could say—especially on mornings like this.

“Don’t worry, Mia,” Jim said lightly. “Lakella would have started the meeting five minutes late anyway. She just likes to keep us on our toes.”

Mia fought the urge to laugh, grateful for the small moment of levity. Jim had a knack for knowing exactly when to step in, when to offer a kind word or a quick joke to cut through the tension. It was one of the many reasons she looked up to him—not just as a colleague but as a mentor and friend.

She tried to focus as Lakella launched into a list of updates and expectations. But Mia’s mind kept wandering.

Jim leaned over slightly, tapping the edge of her notebook with his pen. “You look like you’re a thousand miles away. Everything okay?”

“Fine,” Mia whispered, offering a small smile. “Just ... a lot on my mind.”

He nodded knowingly, his expression softening. “Well, try not to let Lakella see you daydreaming, or she’ll have you writing grant proposals for the next six months.”

The comment earned him a quick grin, and for a moment, Mia felt the weight on her chest lighten. But as Lakella moved on to another point about donor seating, the knot in her stomach tightened again.

“Mia, are you listening?”

She snapped back to the present, Lakella’s eyes narrowing at her from across the table. “Yes, sorry. You were talking about the floral arrangements.”

Lakella’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I was talking about donor seating. But I’m glad to know where your priorities are.”

Heat rose to Mia’s cheeks, and she quickly jotted down a note to cover her tracks. The rest of the meeting dragged on, a blur of logistics and thinly veiled critiques from Lakella. By the time it ended, Mia’s shoulders were tight with tension, and her head ached from the strain of keeping her expression neutral.

Later, back at her desk, she reclined in her chair and let out a slow breath. She’d felt out of sorts all morning. For a moment, she let herself close her eyes, the chaos slipping away.

And then, like a wave crashing over her, the dream came rushing back.

The smoke. The fire. The heat pressing in around her. And him—always him. His face was clearer now than it had ever been before, the sharp line of his jaw and the intensity in his eyes burned into her memory. She could feel the panic rising in her chest, the desperate need to reach him, to save him before it was too late.

Her eyes snapped open, her heart pounding. It wasn’t just a dream. It never had been. Deep down, she’d always known that. But seeing Sage in real life had shattered whatever distance she’d managed to keep from it. He wasn’t just some shadowy figure in her mind anymore. He was real. Flesh and blood. And she’d recognized him the moment their eyes met.

Her fingers curled tightly around the edge of her desk, her breathing shallow. The pieces of the puzzle that had haunted her for years were beginning to fall into place, but the picture they were forming was one she wasn’t sure she was ready to face.

Sage Cole wasn’t just the man from her dreams. He was her dream. And now, he was out there somewhere, walking into danger while she was left with nothing but questions and the sinking feeling that this was only the beginning.