Page 57 of Little Bird
He gets close and plants a casual kiss on my forehead, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “But maybe he’ll hear it if it comes from you. I hope so. We need help.”
Having him near me is so intense I can hardly breathe, and I feel like my skin is about to shatter with the pressure. The spot he kissed is burning on my forehead, my heart hammering out a frantic tattoo.
But then he puts his shirt back on, and the spell breaks, all the magic disappearing.
“Come back inside,” he says. “It’s fucking cold out here.”
He walks away without looking back, and as I turn and watch him, my heart hollow and empty at his casual dismissal of my idea, the phone in my pocket buzzes. I bring it out and glance at the screen, then freeze.
A text from a number I never wanted to see.
I know where you are, it reads. And I can’t believe you think you can hide from me. I want what’s mine, Taryn. And I’m coming for it.
It’s signed ‘Mom,’ like I can’t already see who it’s from, and when I drop the phone into my pocket again, I’ve forgotten Gabe and his chest and the fire that burns between us.
My mom has found me. I don’t know how, but I’m not surprised. She was always going to look here eventually. Or maybe she doesn’t actually know and is just expecting me to confirm or deny it by answering.
If so, she has another thing coming. I’m not that stupid. I don’t want her here, and I’ll do everything I can to keep hiding from her.
Because if she finds me...
I shut the thought down, positive that I don’t want to know what she’ll do. I just have to hope the snow will keep her away until I can figure out what to do about her.
And in the meantime, I have a marketing plan to write. We’re stuck in the house for the time being, and as long as I have the time, I might as well work on something that helps the men I’m currently depending on.
Even if neither of them will appreciate what I’m doing for them.
Gabe
I lean against the wood of her door, wondering what she’s doing in there. She came upstairs immediately after we got back in the house, and though she had dinner with us she hurried back to her room right afterward, leaving my father and me in the great room by ourselves.
I didn’t like that I had to spend time with him on my own.
I liked it even less when she deserted me without any explanation.
I pause and put my ear to the door, trying to hear what’s going on in there. She’s humming to herself like she’s working on something, and I can hear the click of the buttons on the laptop she borrowed from me. She’s typing quickly, then stopping to hum to herself and presumably think about what she’s just written.
What is she doing, writing a book?
I wonder if she’ll share it with me if I ask. If she’ll invite me in and show me the laptop, laughing about whatever she’s doing. If her eyes will light up the way they do when she’s excited about something, and if she’ll throw her hands all over the place, explaining, then ask me what I think of it.
When we were younger, we never kept secrets from each other. If I planned something, she was involved, and if she wanted to pull a prank, I was the first one she told about it. We were attached at the hip, inseparable. All in, all the time.
I guess things have changed.
My hand twitches, wanting to rise up and knock on the door, just to see if she’ll let me in and share whatever she’s doing. I’m bored and edgy being stuck in this house, and if I’m being honest, with life itself. I love the business and I think we can do great things, but part of me knows I never actually chose it.
I could have done something else with my life if my father hadn’t been depending on me to follow in his footsteps. And though I’ve never faced that truth head-on, the last week has me rethinking things. I feel incomplete, somehow, like something is missing. Like I’m not living the life I’m meant to live.
And since Taryn showed up, it feels like she has the answer for whatever’s bothering me.
But I don’t know how to ask her what I should do. Hell, I don’t even know what I would ask. I might open my mouth to say something and find that I don’t have the words. End up walking away, looking like an idiot. Making myself vulnerable for no reason. I’m not even sure why she’d care what I’m thinking. Her life is in the city now, not up here on the mountain. She has friends and school and a career waiting for her down there, and I’m up here just...
Just...
Wasting away.
She can’t help that. Why would she even want to? I’m just the stepbrother she used to have.
