Page 41 of Where the Little Birds Are (Little Bird Duet 2)

She doesn’t answer right away, taking her time to pet the cat and close the cupboard before finally turning to me. “It’s short for Pennywise.”

My lips pull into a quirked grin. “You don’t say?”

“I’ll eat some pizza,” she redirects.

I wink and pull out my phone as she passes me the menu for a local delivery place. She busies herself with getting something to drink, gesturing toward the other room. When we find our way in the living room she tucks herself in the furthest corner of the couch with Penny climbing onto her lap.

After putting in our order, I hang up and examine her movie collection again. Pulling out a comedy, I turn and smile when I see the two of them snuggling close.

“I’m glad you finally got a cat.”

Her hand stills over Penny’s fur. “She makes it less lonely here,” she admits quietly, nuzzling the rumbling feline. “I was sorry to hear about Fred. Your mom ordered a beautiful sign for him.”

I put the DVD in and settle in beside her, not wanting as much distance as there is between us but also not wanting to push. “She’s always appreciated you keeping in touch with her. Mom loves you like her own.”

She focuses on the cat. “I love her too.”

I’ve always wondered if she latched onto Mom the way Mom did her. Her parents are good people, hardworking, and love her. But I always saw the way Kinley’s face lit up when Mom told her she was proud or bragged about her writing to people.

They’ve always been family.

Even when I wasn’t in it.

Especially when I wasn’t in it.

“Your dad has been doing better,” she comments, daring a peek at me. My expression hardens, but she doesn’t stop. “He’s been getting the help he needs, Corbin. You should give him a chance.”

My attention turns to the television screen, brushing off her burning gaze. “I don’t want to talk about my father.”

“But—”

“Kinley.”

She sighs. “If you want to be part of this baby’s life, you need to talk to me. Your parents have been supportive of me from day one. I want them to know their grandchild. That includes your father. Doesn’t our baby deserve that?”

My nostrils flare. Tightening my hold against the remote, I answer, “You’re not playing fair right now, Little Bird. If you want him to be involved in our kid’s life, then fine. That doesn’t mean I have to be.”

Reaching for the remote, she plucks it from my hand and turns off the television. Penny jumps from her lap and twitches her tail, showing us both her butt as she struts away. “Listen to me right now because I’m only saying this once, Corbin Callum. Your father isn’t perfect. Nobody is. But he finally acknowledged that he needed help figuring out how to handle his anger. He can’t help it—”

“He stopped talking to me,” I cut her off, standing from the couch abruptly. “It was Mom who made it seem like there was an inkling of interest in my life from him, but there wasn’t.”

She blinks. “He has a traumatic brain injury. That sort of thing doesn’t heal. It’s hard on him. Have you tried talking to him?”

A strangled laugh rises. “Tried? Do you know how much money I’ve spent on plane tickets that he’s never used? Or how many gifts I’ve given him thinking he’d say something and never did? I wasted a lot of things on him, Kinley. Brain injury or not, he doesn’t give a shit. And you know what? It wasn’t just hard on him.”

Her lips weigh down at the corners. “Did you ever think to try somethi

ng else?”

I relent. “Like?”

“Going to Lincoln?”

I’m silent.

She plays with the hem of the oversized sweatshirt while looking up at me through her lashes. “Your father made a home there. It’s where he got to see you graduate and flourish.” I’m about to cut in when she shakes her head before I can. “Did you know that he has news articles of you cut out in a photo album? Your mom gave it to him when she saw everything stored in a shoe box in their room. The school play, your first movie, high school graduation, commercials—he kept track of it all.

“I’ve read up on people who have injuries like his. They don’t process things right depending on where the bulk of the trauma is. Your father doesn’t like going anywhere because he doesn’t want anyone seeing him like that.”

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