Page 28 of Where the Little Birds Go (Little Bird Duet 1)

I move my legs inside the car. “I’m happy that you admitted it. But am I happy that I was never your priority? That everything we shared didn’t matter to you like becoming famous did? No, Corbin. I’m not.”

“That’s not—” He catches the door as I go to close it. “That is not true. I know it doesn’t seem like I gave a shit, but I did come back.”

My hand drops into my lap as I stare up at him with a confused expression on my face. I would have known if he came back. People talk. The local town gossip would have made sure everyone in Lincoln knew if someone who left reappeared one day, especially someone like Corbin.

“Ask your brother.”

I wet my lips and remain silent.

He opens the door and leans in, the woodsy scent he smells like now nothing like the French vanilla that surrounded him in high school. Weirdly, I miss it. “That town is wrapped around your finger. It always has been. As soon as I hurt you, I was the enemy. It doesn’t matter what award I win, or how much money is in my bank account. Lincoln chooses you, which means they’ll protect you no matter what it takes.”

I let him fill my personal space and invade my senses before I close my eyes. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Then you’re in denial, Little Bird.”

“Please stop calling me that.”

“Stop pretending like you still hate it.”

Silence.

He stands up and flattens his shirt, gripping the edge of the door. “Meet me in my trailer tomorrow. We’ll talk more. I’m not giving you a chance to say no either. We both need this.”

“Closure?”

The infamous smirk appears on his face, leaving me wishing I did have a rock to throw at him. “The company.”

I’m about to tell him that I can find better company than him, but he makes sure all my limbs are out of the way before closing the door. Staring at him through the glass, he shoots me a wink before turning around and walking away.

“What am I doing?” I whisper.

Chapter Twelve

Kinley / 16

Biting down onto my thumbnail, I watch as the little white numbers in the bottom righthand corner of my laptop change. Eyes drifting to my inbox, I begin tapping my foot on the floor waiting for a new email to come through. The clock could be fast on my computer.

Noon.

12:01

12:05

12:09

A pillow smacks me in the face, and my laptop nearly topples from where it’s perched on my legs. Glaring at Gavin standing by the chair in the corner of my room, I put my laptop safely on my nightstand.

“Do you mind?”

“Your moping is annoying,” he informs me, jabbing his thumb backwards. “Let’s go get pizza. I’ll even let you pay.”

I blink.

He grins. “Come on, dickwad. I’m just messing with you. Although, feel free to pay. My milk check this week wasn’t as much as I thought it’d be. You’ll just have to live without your crack for now.”

Rolling my eyes, I glance at the screen before sighing and closing my computer. “Fine, but you’re definitely paying. And you’re buying me Twizzlers because it’s your fault I’m addicted to them in the first place.”

He cackles and backs up. “Do you remember when I hit you with one during a road trip and you bruised?”

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