Page 67 of Where the Little Birds Are (Little Bird Duet 2)

One of my brows raise. “Is that so?”

She just shrugs.

The slow clearing of a throat has all of us looking at Gavin. His eyes are on Kinley though, pleading through the softness of his tone. “Can we talk now? Just you and I?”

It’s me who says, “Third door on the left upstairs is open. It’ll give you privacy.”

To my surprise, Gavin’s eyes trail to mine. They’re not angry or irritated. In fact, there may be even the slightest hint of something kind hidden behind the brown depths that look just like Kinley’s.

All I do is nod once, but he manages a “thank you” that surprises the hell out of me before standing up and waiting for his sister to do the same. She swallows before taking a deep breath and pushing her chair back. I kiss the back of her hand and squeeze it before letting go.

“Love you, Little Bird.”

Her watery eyes meet mine, and she doesn’t have to say the words back for me to see the truth in her eyes.

But she says them anyway.

“I love you too,” she whispers.

Chapter Twenty-One

Kinley / 18

The sound of my phone buzzing in my pocket has me glancing up at my anthropology

professor as he drones on about the cultural significance of the Southwest before pulling my cell out and placing it on my thigh. Quickly unlocking the screen, I smile at the name across it.

I give the middle-aged man another head nod like I’m not dosing off in his introductory class before focusing on my cell again.

Parker: How’s the first week of classes been?

Lips twitching into a frown, I listen to Professor Ripley crack another joke that only two out of the twenty-three kids packed into this too-tiny room laugh at. I feel sort of bad for the guy, but I mostly just want to leave. It’s the only elective that fit into my schedule that didn’t sound awful, but I already regret it.

Kinley: Kind of like your first week with Little’s Literary Agency, except with dad jokes

Parker: Rough

Kinley: Yeah

Someone asks a question that pulls the professor away from whatever rant he went off on. I’ve caught on quickly that he doesn’t stick to the day’s lesson plans based on the syllabus because he always talks about some trip he went on with other anthropologists over the years. And while I think traveling and seeing old cultural landmarks and sites is cool, it doesn’t keep my interest for more than a minute.

Parker: Jamie’s been talking about the deal to her staff. She’s proud of you

My face heats over the undisclosed I’m proud of you too that I know is tacked on. He’s told me that a few times since Rave Publishing announced their newest author—me. And though his email to me was unexpected when I’d received it shortly before my eighteenth birthday, I couldn’t stop smiling over his enthusiasm for me. He’d promised another hot chocolate, a piece of red velvet cake with white icing, my favorite, to celebrate when I’d come back.

And he kept his word.

When I arrived at Little’s Literary Agency during spring break to go over next steps with Jamie, I should have known something was up when the receptionist’s desk was empty. I’d hesitantly called out for anyone before noticing the breakroom light on.

Parker was grinning when I opened the door and stared at him, Anne, the receptionist, Jamie, and a few others from different departments. A red velvet cake was on the table waiting to be devoured, with mugs of hot chocolate and whipped cream at everybody’s spot at the table.

We’d exchanged numbers after talking half the day, despite him supposed to be working. Jamie didn’t raise a fuss even though we’d planned on speaking about what I should expect over the course of the next year before my book was published.

It wasn’t until over the summer when we’d moved from texts to phone calls, leaving the occasional email exchange for business related issues that he helps Jeff, the man he reports to, with.

Kinley: It doesn’t feel real yet. I’m sitting in a classroom surrounded by people who are as ready to fall asleep as I am

Parker: Have you talked to your parents?

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