Page 57 of Where the Little Birds Go (Little Bird Duet 1)

After a moment, I say, “You were born with a name meant to be known by the world. I mean, hopefully not as a serial killer, but…”

“Go to sleep, Little Bird,” he muses.

“Fine.” I close my eyes. “But you need to leave before anyone realizes you’re here, okay?”

I don’t hear his response.

“Absolutely fucking not,” a voice booms somewhere close by.

It doesn’t take long to assess the overheated body pressed way too close to me before understanding what the unwanted wakeup call is for. When I crack my eyes open to see my brother fuming at my doorway I want nothing more than to hide under my blanket and pretend he can’t see Corbin.

“Morning, Gavin.”

He walks in and rips the blankets off, quickly covering his eyes with his hands. “You better both be wearing clothes. I don’t want to kick a naked boy’s ass.”

Corbin jerks up, somehow head butting me in the process. I wince and rub my forehead before smacking Gavin. “We’re not naked,” I hiss, feeling the sting of heat encompassing my entire body.

Gavin looks at Corbin with narrow eyes before pulling him up by his shirt and shoving him toward the door. “I’m hiding the spare key and chopping down any trees that he might be able to climb. You’re lucky Mom and Dad didn’t find you two in here.”

I quickly get up and yank on Gavin’s sweatshirt to force him to stop pushing Corbin out of my room. There’s discomfort between my legs that I push past, trying not to give myself away. “Stop! We didn’t do anything. He came over to tell me some good news and we fell asleep.”

Grabbing Corbin’s shoes from the floor by my bed, I pass them to him. He stays silent as he kneels and slides them on, tightening the laces while Gavin and I stare each other down.

“Dad would kill him,” he points out.

“Dad doesn’t have to know.”

His eyes narrow. “You can’t have boys in your room, Kinley. You’re like twelve. That’s inappropriate.”

My mouth gapes. He did not just call me twelve. I’m more mature than him in every way except age. He may have five years on me, but that’s all he does.

“Rebecca Davenport.”

His lips part.

“Stacy Smith.”

His eyes narrow.

“You smoked weed with Tyler Bowen.”

“How do you know all that?”

Crossing my arms on my chest in challenge, I meet his gaze firmly. “Because I’m not an idiot, but you are. Rebecca stumbled half-drunk into my room one night and got all giggly and apologetic when she thought it was the bathroom. Stacy told the entire school you and her were going steady after your little sleepover, and you smelled like skunk right after coming home from hanging out with Tyler and that other moron he’s always with.”

Gavin remains quiet.

Corbin stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I should go. I’m sorry for falling asleep. We were really just talking.”

Slowly, Gavin turns to face him. “I don’t like you.”

“Gavin!”

Corbin nods. “Duly noted.”

“Ignore him,” I tell Corbin.

Gavin shakes his head. “Good luck getting him out of here. Dad has been up for over an hour. Pretty sure he’s on the computer.”

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