Page 48 of Where the Little Birds Go (Little Bird Duet 1)

Liv nudges my leg with her foot. “All due respect but I would hope not. Did you expect her to wait for you? That’s what happened right? Small town love gone wrong?”

I don’t answer.

“Do you mind me asking why you’re still upset over something like that? It had to have happened a long time ago.”

This time, my eyes do go over my shoulder at the spot Kinley stands. Her back is turned to me while she talks to Buchannan. His hand is on her arm and he’s giving her a sleezy smile that makes me want to shove him away.

“It’s not about when it happened,” I tell her quietly. “It’s about who it happened with.”

Olivia waits for me to speak the memory I haven’t thought of since I found out about it. That little nugget of information was one her brother fed me when I got back to town, driving the final nail in the coffin.

Too bad for you, you’re too late.

My fist tightens and loosens.

She’s with Zach.

“Whatever.” I brush it off, standing up and nodding toward the markers on the floor. “I think we’ll start reshooting in a few. Coming?”

Her eyes narrow. “You’re seriously no fun when it comes to real life conversations.”

I manage to chuckle. “Get your pleasure from someone else’s pain. I can’t keep getting you off with my misery alone.”

“Misery, huh?” Her eyebrows wiggle. “It must be some strong feelings keeping you stuck in the past if that’s how you feel about it.”

“Shove it.”

“Mm.” She winks. “Maybe later, baby.”

Rolling my eyes, we get back to our places just as Buchannan calls for the set to quiet down. After telling me not to mess up this take, he gestures to start rolling.

Kinley doesn’t look at me.

I don’t look at her.

I’m surprised to see Kinley standing outside the door to my trailer when they call it for the day. After my screw up, I made sure to stay on track. Somehow, we got ahead and opted not to start filming tomorrow’s scenes.

Slowing my steps when I see the lack of emotion on her face, I mentally prepare myself for anything. I used to be able to read Kinley easily. Whatever she feels usually lingers in her eyes, lifts or lowers her lips, or causes the tiniest shift in her fair complexion.

Opening the door, I nod toward the inside. Contemplation washes over her features, and the dark tone of her brown hues make them look fear ridden. Blowing out a deep breath, I walk in without looking to see if she follows.

I kept my distance all day. Instead of seeking her out when she was alone, I made sure to keep busy that way I wasn’t tempted to ask if she was all right after what happened the other day. She didn’t show up the day after we slept together, telling someone she was on a strict deadline she needed to focus on.

Olivia took pity on me and we ate lunch together without her asking anymore questions about my past. It doesn’t stop me from remembering different pieces of it—the good, bad, and everything in between. I’ve thought of countless ways I could have fixed what happened before realizing that I can’t.

Grabbing a cold bottle of water from the fridge, I guzzle half of it before Kinley finally walks up the steps. She stands by the door, hesitant, watching me with blankness masking her features again.

I always loved knowing if she was happy, sad, excited, or angry. Half the time, the emotions were because of me. If I said or did something dumb, her nose would scrunch. If we set a date to watch a movie at one of our parents’ houses, her eyes would brighten.

“What’s wrong with you?” she says quietly, crossing her arms over her chest. The way her palms squeeze her opposite arms makes it look like she’s hugging herself.

I lean against the counter where the fridge rests. “How long do you have?”

She doesn’t respond.

Shrugging, I push myself up and walk over to the couch. I had no intention of staying late, but there’s obviously something Kinley has to get off her chest.

In the matter of seconds, she lets it go. “I don’t have very long left here, Corbin. While I’m still not keen on the casting choices for certain parts, I do want to make the most of the experience. Whatever stunt that was—”

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