Page 71 of Where the Little Birds Go (Little Bird Duet 1)

Her mouth ascends on mine, claiming my lips in a kiss that only two people who are beautifully broken can understand. There’s an understanding between us that our kiss explains silently with every brush, suck, and breath. I try channeling Ryker the best I can, gripping her sides and making her mine like I’ve always wanted. Yet the surge of emotion that I feel coursing through my veins with my actual Little Bird is absent. Ryker will never let Beck go because he thinks this is their last shot—this moment cements what he’s always wanted. Needed.

When Buchannan calls cut, I instantly back up and wait for the scolding over ruining the scene with my botched lines. But when I turn and see everyone staring at me, there’s awe on their faces instead.

Buchannan walks over to me and puts his hand on my shoulder, squeezing. “I don’t know what that was, but there’s not one person in this room that didn’t feel it. Damn, kid. And the Little Bird

bit—”

I rush out an apology. “I’m sorry about that. It just slipped out. If we need to redo the scene, I understand.”

“Redo it?” Buchannan shakes his head. “I worked with you back when you were what? Nineteen? Twenty? You were just starting and there was passion since day one, but what you just did exceeds anything I’ve seen you do. You’re a good actor, but great ones channel their emotions into the job. I don’t know what significance Little Bird is to you, but I’m keeping it in the scene. Beck deserves to have a nickname.”

He squeezes my shoulder again before walking away and nodding at something somebody tells him along the way. Panic builds in the pit of my stomach as I swipe a hand through my styled hair and messing up the perfectly placed strands.

“Oh my God,” Olivia whispers. “You really love her, don’t you?”

I turn ever so slowly.

She blinks. “You are so fucked.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Kinley / Present

The familiarity of being back in my territory has me walking a little lighter and waving to people with a soft smile on my face. The tightness in my chest disappeared as soon as I walked into my home and saw Penny, short for Pennywise—my calico cat, run towards me. I know my neighbor took good care of her, but I still missed being the one to watch her gobble treats and demand attention at the most inconvenient times.

Since I’ve been back, I’ve thrown myself into work to complete my newest project and stay up to date with Jamie and the team following our meeting. Jamie Little is a five-foot-five intimidating woman who’s always ready for anything. There’s rarely a smile on her serious face, which screams success in how she carries herself. Her styled white bob never moves an inch out of place and her wardrobe probably costs more than I make in a year. But that’s why I love her. She’s the perfect woman to conduct business in a no-nonsense way.

The three weeks that I’ve been back have been a whirlwind of edits, meetings, and local promotional tours. Jamie’s literary agency works hand in hand with a publicist who helps me keep my social media regulated since the media raised questions regarding me and Corbin, but since there’s been nothing since about us, things have gone as smoothly as possible.

After a book signing at a store twenty minutes from my little townhome, I come home to a wrapped package in my mailbox. When I pull it out with the rest of the bills and assorted mail, my lips part at what I’m seeing.

A rectangular package.

A silver bow.

Staring at the slightly torn blue wrapping paper, I brush the pad of my thumb across the hard item under it. Déjà vu hits me as I distractedly walk into my house.

Penny jumps on the couch where I sit down, nudging the gift that rests on my lap. Her purrs pull me away from the unknown just inches away. I rub between her ears and listen to her rumbles grow louder, finding myself smiling at the ball of fluffy love sniffing the mail.

The label on the back tells me what I already know, but my eyes don’t stray from the name regardless. I’ve received many things from California, but never from him. His name is the last thing I expect to cross while going through my private mail.

Penny paws the bow, tearing one of the sides with her claw. “No, Pen.” Part of me debates on giving in and letting her have it, but another remembers the few others identical to it that rest in a box in my office.

Swallowing past an emotion that I’ve been trying hard to avoid since boarding the plane at LAX airport, I begin tearing open the paper until something black with gold lettering is revealed underneath.

I blink down at the Girl Boss notebook with golden edges. My fingers run down the cover, tracing the small words in utter silence.

Penny yowls.

I notice something else in the package, trapped in the wrapping paper I tore. Pulling out a piece of paper, I study the two words written in familiar handwriting that covers hotel stationary.

Open it.

Hesitantly, I lift the notebook and peel open the cover. The soft crack of a new spine greets my ears. Eyes scanning the pages in front of me, I notice more of the same black handwritten words written on the inside of the cover.

A blank notebook for the start of something new, because our story isn’t over yet.

Fly with me, Little Bird.

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