What’s Left to Burn

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

MIA

T he small package sat on my doorstep like a secret waiting to be told, its plain brown paper at odds with the morning sunlight spilling over the brick steps. My heart stuttered as I bent to pick it up, the coarse string tied around it whispering of intention, care. There was no return address, no markings—just my name scrawled across the top in bold, confident handwriting I recognized instantly. Sage.

I stood there for a moment, the world around me narrowing to the weight of the box in my hands. It wasn’t heavy, but it felt like it held something more than just an object. It carried the weight of his presence, a connection that lingered even after days of silence. My fingers tingled as I untied the string, sliding it free with deliberate care, as though the moment deserved to be savored.

Inside, nestled beneath a layer of soft tissue paper, was a compass. A vintage one, its brass casing polished to a warm glow that caught the light. I lifted it, turning it over in my hand, and the cool metal sent a shiver up my arm. The needle quivered as if responding to some unseen force, a whisper of direction, of purpose. The glass face was smooth, unmarred, and as I studied it closer, I noticed an engraving on the back. Two simple words: Find me.

My breath caught.

Beneath the compass, tucked neatly into the folds of tissue, was a note. His handwriting again—strong, deliberate, but with a softness that made my chest ache.

Mia,

I’m back. Let me take you to dinner. Tonight. 7 p.m. You pick the place, and I’ll meet you there.

Sage

I read it twice, then again, the words sinking in like stones tossed into a still pond, rippling outward and unsettling everything.

His phone number was scrawled at the bottom. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see a string of numbers in my life.

The compass lay heavy in my palm, its weight both grounding and electrifying. It was such a Sage thing to send—not flowers or chocolates, but something practical and meaningful. Something that whispered of exploration, of adventure, of finding your way when you were lost.

And wasn’t that exactly what he’d done to me? Thrown my world off its axis and left me fumbling to find my bearings?

I sat down on the step, clutching the compass as if it held answers I didn’t yet know I was looking for. My thoughts were a tangle of nerves and anticipation, of longing and fear. He was back, and he wanted to see me.

The logical part of my brain screamed at me to slow down, to protect my heart, to question what I was doing letting a man like Sage—intense, unpredictable, dangerous—pull me into his orbit. But the other part, the part that had been dreaming of him every night and feeling the ache of his absence, whispered something else entirely: Go.

I looked at the compass again, watching the needle tremble before pointing true. My pulse quickened. I didn’t need it to tell me where to find him. I already knew.

The compass stayed with me all day, tucked into the front pocket of my bag, its weight a constant reminder of what waited for me tonight. I tried to focus at work, sifting through donor proposals and double-checking event details, but my mind kept wandering. What would I say to him? How would it feel to see him again after everything?

By the time five o’clock rolled around, I was a bundle of nerves. Every glance at the clock made my stomach flip, anticipation curling in my chest like a tightly wound spring. I lingered at my desk longer than usual, pretending to tidy up when really I was just trying to gather the courage to face whatever tonight might bring.

Finally, I couldn’t stall any longer. I grabbed my bag, the compass pressing firmly against the fabric, and stepped out into the warm evening air. The streets of Charleston were alive with their usual rhythm—tourists meandering past pastel buildings, the occasional hum of a carriage rolling by. But I barely noticed. My thoughts were too loud, my heart racing with every step.

The last thing I expected as I turned the corner onto Meeting Street was to see him standing there, leaning against a lamppost like he hadn’t just been halfway across the world. For a moment, the Charleston heat felt suffocating, the air too thick to breathe. He looked up, and our eyes met.

Time seemed to pause. The bustle of the city faded into a dull hum, and all I could see was him—his dark hair slightly tousled, his stance relaxed but purposeful. He was dressed simply, in a gray button-up shirt rolled to his elbows and dark jeans that clung just enough to hint at the strength underneath. But it wasn’t the clothes that stopped me in my tracks. It was his presence, the way he seemed to fill the space around him with something unspoken, something magnetic.

His lips curved into a slow, lopsided smile, and the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding rushed out all at once.

“Mia,” he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to settle in my chest.

I blinked, my feet rooted to the cobblestones. “What are you doing here?” It came out more breathless than I intended.

“You didn’t text me where to meet,” he said simply, pushing off the lamppost. “Figured I’d save you the trouble.”

I stared at him, my heart pounding. “You waited for me?”

His eyes softened, and he closed the distance between us, stopping just short of too close. “Of course I did.”

The words hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. My pulse was a chaotic drumbeat, my carefully rehearsed plans for dinner flying out the window. Standing this close to him, everything else felt inconsequential.

“Have you been waiting long?” I asked, grasping for something, anything, to keep me grounded.

“Long enough to wonder if you were going to show,” he said, his smile tilting into something teasing but vulnerable all at once.

“I’m here,” I said quietly, surprising myself with the steadiness of my voice.

His gaze dipped briefly to the bag slung over my shoulder, and I knew he was thinking about the compass. “I wasn’t sure you would be.”

I wanted to tell him how nervous I’d been, how I’d turned his gift over and over in my hands until I practically memorized the feel of it. But instead, I said, “You left me a pretty compelling argument.”

He grinned, the kind that sent warmth rushing through me despite the heat. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

For a moment, we just stood there, the city moving around us like a current neither of us was a part of. Then he tilted his head toward the street. “Come on. Let’s walk.”

I hesitated, my feet refusing to move. “I was going to take you to dinner.”

“We’ll get there,” he said, his voice easy but insistent. “But let’s just walk for a minute.”

Something about the way he said it made me nod without question. He fell into step beside me, and I felt the tension in my chest begin to ease. His presence was steady, grounding, and for the first time all day, I felt like I could breathe.

We walked in a silence that felt louder than any conversation, the soft rhythm of our footsteps against the cobblestones filling the space between us. The air was warm, thick with the scent of jasmine and saltwater, but it was his presence beside me that seemed to wrap around me most tangibly.

He kept his hands tucked casually in his pockets, but every now and then, his arm brushed against mine—a fleeting touch that sent little sparks skittering across my skin. I tried to focus on the path ahead, but my gaze kept flicking toward him, taking in the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his lips pressed together in thought, the tension in his shoulders that hinted at things left unsaid.

“You nervous?” His voice cut through the quiet, smooth but probing.

I glanced up at him, startled. “A little,” I admitted, my fingers tightening around the strap of my bag. “Are you?”

His lips quirked into that lopsided grin that made my heart stutter. “Not the word I’d use.”

“Oh?” I arched a brow, trying to sound playful, though my pulse was anything but steady. “Then what word would you use?”

He stopped walking, turning to face me fully. The intensity in his gaze stole the breath from my lungs. “Ready.”

The word hit me square in the chest, simple but loaded with meaning. My stomach flipped as I stood there, caught between wanting to run and wanting to step closer.

“Ready for what?” I managed to ask, though my voice barely carried above the hum of the city around us.

His eyes searched mine, like he was trying to decide how much to say. “For whatever this is. For you.”

My heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it. I looked away, my gaze falling to the uneven cobblestones at our feet. “That’s a lot of pressure to put on one dinner, don’t you think?”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “I’m not talking about dinner, Mia.”

I felt the pull of his words, the way they seemed to tug at something deep inside me. It terrified me, how easily he could unravel the walls I’d spent years building, but it exhilarated me too. Because standing here with him, I didn’t feel lost or unsure. I felt seen.

The silence stretched between us again, heavy with possibilities. Finally, he stepped back, breaking the moment with a soft exhale. “Come on,” he said, his voice gentler now. “We’ll walk to the restaurant. But if I don’t get food in you soon, you might pass out from all that overthinking.”

I laughed, the sound shaky but genuine. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, huh?”

“Not yet,” he said, his smile returning, this time softer. “But I’m working on it.”

We started walking again, the tension easing but not disappearing entirely. His words stayed with me, though, threading through my thoughts as we moved through the city. What was it about him that made me feel so... unsteady, like he could see straight through me and wasn’t afraid of what he’d find?

As we turned onto a quieter street, the warm glow of string lights began to spill out from a nearby bistro. My breath caught at the sight of the little outdoor tables, each one adorned with a flickering candle. It was the kind of place I loved—intimate, inviting, and just a little magical.

“This is it,” I said, nodding toward the restaurant. “I hope you’re hungry.”

He smiled, his gaze dipping to mine in a way that made my skin flush. “Starving.” But the way he said it didn’t feel like he was talking about food.

The hostess greeted us warmly, leading us to a small table tucked away in a corner of the courtyard. The setting was perfect, the kind of ambiance that begged for whispered conversations and lingering glances. I felt his eyes on me as I sat down, the weight of his attention as palpable as the heat of the summer night.

“So,” he said, leaning forward slightly as he rested his arms on the table. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Like what?”

“Anything,” he said, his tone easy but insistent. “Something that’s not in your bag of standard first-date answers.”

I tilted my head, studying him for a moment. “I don’t usually do this,” I admitted.

“Do what?”

“Let myself… feel like this. Like I’m about to dive headfirst into something I can’t control.”

His eyes softened, his voice low. “Good.”

“Good?” I asked, incredulous. “How is that good?”

“Because it means you’re alive,” he said simply. “And because I feel the same way.”

I looked at him, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the candle between us, and realized there was no hiding from this. Whatever “this” was, it had its claws in me, and there was no going back.

So, I didn’t fight it. I just let myself fall.

I didn’t even get a chance to savor the moment. Just as I was about to respond, my phone buzzed in my bag, rattling against the compass he’d given me. I reached for it reluctantly, unsure whether to answer. But when I saw Mom flashing on the screen, my stomach sank.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” I said, already rising from the table. Sage nodded, his expression open, though I could see a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.

I stepped away, holding the phone to my ear. “Hey, Mom. Everything okay?”

“Hi, sweetheart! Yes, everything’s fine,” she said, her voice a little too chipper. That usually meant she was about to drop something on me. “Your dad and I are in Charleston. Surprise!”

“What?” My voice came out louder than I intended, and I glanced over my shoulder at Sage, who was watching me with mild amusement. “You’re here?”

“We thought we’d celebrate your birthday early since we can’t make it next week. But we’re only in town for tonight. Where are you? We’re at the museum.”

My heart sank further. I turned away from the restaurant, staring into the darkened street as a tangle of emotions swirled in my chest. “Oh, wow. I wasn’t expecting—um, I’m out right now.”

“Well, come meet us,” she said, her tone brisk. “We’re waiting for you.”

I closed my eyes, guilt already gnawing at me. “Okay, I’ll be there soon.”

I hung up and took a steadying breath before walking back to the table. Sage looked up, his brow furrowing slightly as he read my expression. “Everything okay?”

“My parents,” I said, sliding into my seat. “They just showed up in town. Apparently, they want to celebrate my birthday early.”

“Ah,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “And you’re debating whether to ditch me.”

My face burned. “I wouldn’t put it like that.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and easy. “It’s fine, Mia. Go. They’re your family, and it sounds like you don’t get to see them often.”

I hesitated, guilt twisting in my gut. “I feel terrible, though. I invited you to dinner.”

“And I’m telling you it’s okay,” he said, his tone firm but kind. “Family comes first. Always.”

His words settled something in me, though I still felt torn. “At least let me walk you back to the museum,” he added, standing and gesturing toward the door. “It’s on the way, right?”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Thanks.”

We walked in silence again, though this time it felt heavier. I couldn’t shake the guilt, even though Sage had been nothing but understanding. When the museum came into view, its stately columns illuminated by the warm glow of the streetlights, I spotted my parents standing near the entrance. My dad was checking his watch, while my mom craned her neck, scanning the street.

“There they are,” I murmured, feeling my stomach tighten.

Sage followed my gaze, his expression calm but curious. “Want me to hang back?”

Before I could answer, my mom’s eyes landed on us. She waved, her smile brightening as she grabbed my dad’s arm. “Mia! Over here!”

It was too late. I bit back a groan and forced a smile, leading Sage toward them. As we got closer, my mom’s smile faltered slightly, her eyes flicking to Sage and back to me.

“Mom, Dad,” I said, my voice steady despite the nerves clawing at me. “This is Sage.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sage said, extending a hand toward my dad, who shook it firmly.

My mom hesitated for a fraction of a second before offering a polite smile. “Sage. That’s an interesting name.”

“It’s a family thing,” he said easily, his charm kicking in. “My parents have a thing for nature.”

Her smile tightened, and I knew she was already forming an opinion. “Well, it’s nice to meet you,” she said, though her tone lacked warmth. “Are you joining us for dinner?”

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude,” Sage said, glancing at me for confirmation.

“Nonsense,” my dad said, clapping him on the shoulder. “We insist. Any friend of Mia’s is a friend of ours.”

I swallowed hard, shooting Sage an apologetic look. He shrugged, his smile easy. “If you’re sure.”

My mom didn’t protest, but the way she pursed her lips told me she wasn’t thrilled about it. As we walked toward the restaurant my parents had chosen, I couldn’t help but feel like I’d just stepped into a minefield.

Sage stayed close beside me, his hand brushing mine every so often in a way that felt grounding. When we arrived, my mom insisted on taking the seat across from Sage, leaving me to sit between him and my dad. I caught the subtle way she assessed him as the waiter handed out menus.

“So, Sage,” she began, her tone light but pointed. “What do you do?”

“I’m in the military,” he said simply, his posture relaxed. “Special Forces.”

Her smile froze, and I felt my stomach twist. “Oh,” she said, her tone carefully neutral. “That must be… intense.”

“It has its moments,” he said, unfazed. “But it’s rewarding.”

“Rewarding,” she repeated, her gaze sharpening. “And dangerous, I’d imagine.”

I opened my mouth to cut in, but Sage beat me to it. “It can be,” he admitted, his tone calm. “But we train for that. And the work we do—helping people, protecting lives—it’s worth the risks.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and I could see her wheels turning. My dad, bless him, seemed oblivious to the tension as he perused the menu.

“Well,” my mom said after a moment, her voice clipped. “I suppose someone has to do it.”

The words hung in the air like a challenge, and I felt Sage tense beside me. I reached under the table, my hand brushing his knee as I squeezed gently. He glanced at me, and I gave him a look that I hoped conveyed please don’t take the bait.

He didn’t. Instead, he offered a small, disarming smile. “It’s not for everyone, that’s for sure.”

My mom didn’t respond, turning her attention back to the menu. The waiter arrived to take our orders, breaking the tension momentarily, but I knew this dinner was going to be anything but smooth sailing.

As the waiter left, my dad turned to Sage with genuine curiosity. “So, Special Forces, huh? What kind of work does that involve?”

Sage explained briefly, keeping it vague but engaging. My dad nodded along, asking the occasional question, but my mom remained silent, her expression unreadable.

I couldn’t help but wonder how the rest of the evening would play out. And as much as I wanted to focus on Sage, on the pull between us that had been so electric just moments ago, I couldn’t ignore the storm brewing at this table.

The night was far from over, and I had a feeling it was going to test all of us.