Page 16 of Where the Little Birds Go (Little Bird Duet 1)

He shrugs. “Why not? He’s the only author I read, and I’ve seen all his movies. It’d be a huge achievement to be part of it as a professional.”

“Acting,” I repeat quietly. “Cool.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t act.”

“What do you want to do?”

The answer is on the tip of my tongue, but I’m embarrassed to admit it. It isn’t like I aspire to be a rodeo clown or something, but everyone who knows what I enjoy doing in my pastime doesn’t understand it. They think it’s a hobby rather than a legitimate career path.

He pokes my nose, making me go cross-eyed to look at his finger. “I see the wheels turning in your head. What is it?”

I sigh, knowing I have nothing to lose. “I want to be a professional writer—an author. I’ve written ever since I could hold a pencil, and the more I get asked about what I want to do in the future, the more I realize how much I want to get my books published.”

Part of me expects him to give me a funny look, like he’s wondering why I’d ever want something so random. People in small towns are raised to think practically. Being an author isn’t like being a farmer, or nurse, or teacher. That’s what people around here become. Except, I don’t want that.

“I think that’s awesome,” he states, giving me a smile that’s anything but cocky or mischievous like normal.

I blink. “You do?”

Nodding, he says, “I don’t see why it wouldn’t be. Seems like the perfect job for you. You like books and writing, so the whole author thing makes sense.”

“Most people don’t see it that way.”

“Most people aren’t us.”

Us?

Seeing the confusion on my face, he decides to elaborate. “Few people ever act on their dreams, especially in places like this. It takes special kind of people to live them out. I’m going to act no matter what it takes. I’m willing to make sacrifices even if people don’t approve. You seem like you’d do the same to get a book published.”

I would.

Something in my chest lightens. Nobody has ever understood before. It feels nice to be in the same mindset as someone instead of pretending like it’s okay that they don’t get my dreams.

He hits play on the next movie. “We’re going to be bigger than this town, Little Bird. Just you wait and see.”

I’m not sure I want to be bigger than this town. I’m not sure I don’t either.

Chapter Seven

Corbin / Present

The bedroom on set has a four-poster king sized bed directly in the middle of it. The soft white bedding is eerily familiar, like I’ve seen it somewhere before. On either side are light wooden nightstands—one with a lamp, the other with a book and alarm clock. Surrounding the furniture are cameras and lights to create the perfect shadowing and highlights for at least three different angles.

It’s our first sex scene today, and I notice Kinley lingering outside of set staring at the placement of everything like she’s lost in thought. One of her hands holds the wall, her entire right side leaning against it keeping her up.

Nobody bothers her as she takes it all in, and I wonder what’s going through her mind. Is she still mad about the picture? Is she cursing me? It’s probable.

I’ve read the script twice. This scene is pivotal in cementing Ryker and Beck’s forbidden relationship. Every moral is questioned and played out in sultry, sexy detail through caresses, touches, and pleas.

That’s when it hits me—the bedding, the books on the nightstand, everything. I cuss, letting out a strangled, “fuck me” loud enough to get Kinley’s attention while I stare at her.

This is like a grander version of her bedroom growing up. From the white down blanket with five pillows lining the top of the bed to the folded gray throw at the end. The book on the stand isn’t the Stephen King novel she’d sometimes read to me when I procrastinated from homework or practicing lines. Honestly, I’d just wanted to hear her voice.

Kinley blinks. A light pink color settles into her cheeks again as she breaks contact and stares at the floor. She knows I’ve made the connection.

But why?

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