Page 42 of Where the Little Birds Are (Little Bird Duet 2)

I stand still in the middle of the room, unsure of how to react. Mom’s given up on updating me on Dad. She knows the tension between us is too thick to break. I used to feel bad for putting her in the middle but overtime his lack of effort just made me distance myself from any remorse that used to nag me in my spare time.

“One day,” she adds, her voice no more than a whisper in the air, “we’ll both have to walk back into that town. The second we show up in Lincoln together, everybody will know. If you really want us to work this time, we need to face our demons. We can’t start the next chapter if we keep re-reading the last one.”

Knowing she’s right, I walk back over to the couch and sit down. She reaches out and threads our fingers together. It’s only then I find my voice, thawed of my anger by the touch of her warmth. “When this goes public, the world will know what I’ve tried protecting you from.”

“What is there to protect me from?”

Myself.

My love.

Everything.

Instead, I say, “This life. I thought…” My shoulders lift slightly before dropping. “I thought you wanted something else. You kept trying to give me an out before I left, and then when I came back your brother had mentioned Zach. I’m not going to lie, Little Bird. I could have found you anyway that day. We could have talked. But I told myself it was better to let it go.”

“I already told you—”

“I know.” Squeezing our hands, I pick it up and kiss the back of hers. “I let myself go when I got back to California after that. The people I was staying with took me out to parties. Some of them got into drugs. I never did more than smoke a few joints between projects I was cast for. It helped let me focus on something other than the life you were living without me.

“When you blocked me from being part of your accomplishments, it felt final. I saw girls. Slept around.” Her hand twitches, but I won’t let her pull away from me. Not now. “I’m not proud of what I did, but it all led me to the same conclusion. It was always you.”

There are a few moments of silence between us as she stares at our interwoven fingers. “What about Lena? You said it was different with her. It helped.”

Her expression shadows over the topic. “I found someone like me. Broken. Looking for a distraction. I met Lena over six years ago and connected with her. I think we both wanted someone to fill the gaps and settled by pretending we were enough for each other. It worked for a while. Until … it didn’t.”

“Because of me?”

My thumb caresses her. “It went downhill before you, Little Bird. Her and I never see each other. We keep busy schedules because neither one of us wants to be stuck with the other’s problems. What worked for us before stopped working because we couldn’t keep pretending. I didn’t lie when I said we’d decided to stop trying.

“Lena … is very serious about her reputation though. Before it was about her parents and what they’d say, but we worked past that. Her parents love her and never liked me. I guess they saw through me and knew I was never good enough for their daughter. But when things with the movie started, she saw a change in me. I want to give her the benefit of the doubt because I think getting the divorce papers made it final. And speculation regardless of why two people split up is always ridiculous in the media.”

Kinley intervenes. “She’s worried about what she’ll look like? Let’s be honest, Corbin. I never see anything bad about her. But you? Us? People won’t blame her.” She sinks into the cushion. “And they have no right to. I don’t care what you tell me. We’re both the bad guys. Whether this is some weird act of fate or not, it’s never okay to do what we did. Even you have to admit it.”

“You’re right, Kinley.”

We say nothing.

I blow out a breath. “I’ll see my parents in Lincoln if it means that much to you. For us. But I think you and I need some time to grasp just how much our lives are about to change.”

She bites down on her bottom lip, slowly shaking her head in acknowledgment. The silence is thick, knowing, because what we’re walking into will test everything.

Her.

Me.

Us.

The world isn’t ready.

I’m not sure we are either.

“Give us time together,” I plead softly, wanting nothing more than to experience what it’s like to be with her before everything changes.

Her throat bobs as she closes her eyes, and there’s an unspoken understanding that lingers in the softest touch shared between us.

Someone knocks at the door.

The pizza arrives.

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