Page 58 of Where the Little Birds Go (Little Bird Duet 1)

Before he can walk out, I grab his arm. “I haven’t said anything to them about your conquests. The least you can do is help me.”

One of his dark eyebrows raises. “Can I speak to you … alone?”

Corbin puts his hands up and walks toward the door. “I’ll just … be somewhere.”

“You do that,” Gavin grumbles, walking into my room and closing the door in Corbin’s face before I can stop him.

I push his shoulder. “What is your problem? I don’t say anything to you about who you spend time with. I’m obviously trustworthy for not ratting you out about the stupid stuff you do to disrespect Mom and Dad. What’s the big deal?”

He gestures toward the hall. “The big deal is that guy is going to hurt you, Kinley! I’ve told you once and I’ll tell you again. He will leave. He’s going to leave this town and he’s going to leave you. You think I’m a moron, but something happened between you two. Don’t start—” His warning gaze cuts me off from arguing. “I don’t care if something happened last night or not. You look at him in a new way

and it can only end badly. He’s graduating in June. Then what?”

We haven’t discussed what will happen when he graduates. Just that he promised to come back for me. He promised.

His voice becomes softer. “You want to know why I slept with random people and smoked weed and lost my shit for a while? Aimee.”

I knew he took their breakup hard, but he never wanted to talk about it. He seemed fine for a while, focusing on work and building his farm up to make more money. I knew better than to bring her up because he’d shut down.

“First loves hurt, Kin. They suck.” His hand raises to comb over his short hair. “The last thing I want for you is to get too invested in something that’s inevitable.”

“What if it’s not?”

“Not what?”

“Inevitable?”

The look he gives me is full of doubt. “I always liked how you saw the best in people. Even when I was a total dick to you, you’d forgive me when I didn’t deserve it. When Mom and Dad make comments that upset you about your writing, you brush it off and smile. There’s only so much a person can take though. What if this is what breaks you?”

My frown deepens. “Way to have faith in me, big brother. Do you think I’m that weak?”

He sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “I think that being in love changes us. Take it from someone who knows. We get consumed so quickly in another person that we lose ourselves along the way. When you stop guarding yourself, everything is easier. Falling. Feeling. Hurting. I let what Aimee did to me ruin a lot of good shit in my life over the past couple of years.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ll be the same.”

“No,” he agrees. “Knowing you, you’ll be better than anything bad that can happen. I read the story you got published in that literary magazine. I don’t doubt you’d channel everything you have in making something of yourself—with or without him.”

He seems to emphasize the without him bit, making me close my eyes in frustration. I love Gavin even if his protective nature drives me nuts. I know people whose siblings don’t care like he does, so I’m grateful. I just wish he’d let me make my own decisions without making me feel dumb for choosing to feel optimistic.

Instead of continuing the argument that’ll get us nowhere, I relent, “Emotions are a good motivator for writing.”

“Like heartbreak,” he murmurs.

I glare. “Or love.”

He just opens the door and shoots me a wary look over his shoulder. One that my gut tells me to consider. To believe.

I wish I had.

Chapter Nineteen

Corbin / Present

The sound of my phone buzzing somewhere beside me has my hand absentmindedly whipping toward the offensive noise until I’m knocking shit over in the process. I groan loudly when it doesn’t stop, sitting up and pressing the red button I see immediately in the corner.

Faceplanting back into the mattress, I’m half asleep when my phone starts making noise again. Cursing, I peel myself from the warm sheets and pick up the device. Tempted to throw it at the wall, my shoulders tense when I see the name displayed on the screen.

Sighing, I accept the call. “Hi, Mom.”

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