Page 74 of Where the Little Birds Are (Little Bird Duet 2)

“They’ll get over it.”

I make a face. Mom doesn’t necessarily hold grudges, but she doesn’t let anyone forget about things if they bother her enough right away. “I want to stop wasting my time,” I admit quietly, closing my notebook. “But I care about what they think.”

“Kinley.” He sighs and puts his book and glasses on the nightstand before gesturing for me to move over to him. Giving up on studying, I move my notebook to the floor and crawl over to him until he’s holding my hand. “It’s not a bad thing to care about what your family thinks once in a while, but don’t let their opinions of you dictate your life. You don’t share the same interests, hobbies, or goals with them, so they’re never going to understand.”

And that’s the problem.

I don’t miss the way his thumb slowly moves over the back of my hand. It’s comforting and sweet, but the way he looks at me with those dark eyes tells me it’s more too. “If you’re miserable, do something about it. Don’t pretend like you want to be there when you could be doing something else.”

Voice defeated, I ask, “Like what?”

“Write.” His shoulders lift. “Here.”

I blink. “Here?”

“Here,” he confirms.

I make a squeaking noise as I stare at him in disbelief. “You mean like … right here? In your loft? In the city?”

His lips curve up at the corners. “Or in this apartment in general. The living room gets good lighting and the couch is pretty comfortable. Or there’s the breakfast bar…”

I have no idea what’s happening right now as he spews off more places I could sit down and work. “So … you want me to come here and write once in a while?”

His thumb stops moving. “Or you could just drop out of school like you keep saying you want to and then come stay here with me. Brodie is planning on moving out at the end of the month anyway.”

Did he…? Is he…? “Are you asking me to move in with you? Because I know there is no way that my parents are going to be okay with me not only dropping out of college but moving to the city with you, too.”

“What do you want?” he presses, letting go of my hand. “I’m not saying you have to do anything that’d make you uncomfortable but think about it. You’d be here in the city, which you’ve admitted multiple times that you love, and closer to Jamie when you two have to meet up. Plus, there’s way more to do here.”

“It’s expensive,” I cut him off. “I can’t afford it here. My book has barely been out for two months, Parker. It doesn’t matter that it’s doing well now, it could faceplant next month or the month after. I’m still so new to the industry.”

“I’ve got it handled.”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Kinley—”

“This is nuts.” I slide off the bed and stare at him like he’s lost his mind. “As much as I’d love to be here, it doesn’t make sense. My family is in Lincoln. They’d be upset… I just can’t.”

“But what about you?”

I don’t answer.

He gets off the bed and walks over to me, gently brushing his palms down my arms. “You always want other people to be happy, but what about you? Kinley, the world will keep turning if you choose to leave that town. Your family will still love you.”

Again, I say nothing.

“And…” He purses his lips for a moment, his eyes softening. “I want you here. I’ll go there any time you want me to if that’s where you want to stay, but I’m selfish enough to admit I want you here with me.”

I choke on air. “You…?”

“I like you, Kinley Thomas.” His hand goes to my cheek. “You’re like nobody else I’ve met. You’re kind, caring, beautiful, motivated, and I love being around you. So, yeah. I like you, I’m asking you move here, and I’m even willing to beg you to be with me. Because I want that. I want you.”

My throat burns with oncoming emotion as he bends down and kisses me for a fourth time. The other three times should have indicated what he wanted, but I’d told myself they were friendly kisses to protect myself from starting something I couldn’t control.

But this kiss is softer, slower, backed behind every swarm of emotion vindicated in his words. And for the first time since the boy with silver eyes, I find myself kissing back. And liking it—the way his lips move, his hands hold me, and his tongue tastes mine in leisure, gentle strokes. I like the way he pulls me to him, and whispers my name, and peppers kisses down my jaw and throat as he guides us to the bed. Feeling wanted by someone like Parker lets the wariness ease out of my conscience.

And unlike the last guy I let strip me of my clothes and kiss my body and touch me intimately, I didn’t cry. I mimicked his every move, kissed him deeply, opened myself up, and absorbed every single thing he made me feel.

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