WHERE THE LITTLE BIRDS

ARE

B. CELESTE
 CONTENTS
Playlist

Blurb

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25
Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Epilogue

Stay in Touch

Also by B. Celeste

Acknowledgments

About the Author

This Book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or
otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the
publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in
which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being
imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Where the Little Birds Are
Copyright © 2020 by B. Celeste
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and
incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious
manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is
purely coincidental.
Cover Artist: RBA Designs
Formatting: Micalea Smeltzer
Published by: B. Celeste
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means
without written permission of the author.
To the believers
 PLAYLIST

“Something Borrowed” – Lewis Capaldi

“Bad Liar” – Imagine Dragons
“Change Your Mind” – Nashville Cast
“Call Out My Name” – The Weeknd
“Two Ghosts” – Harry Styles
“What About Us” – P!nk
“Every Little Thing” – Carly Pearce
“Need You Now” – Lady Antebellum
 BLURB

Corbin Callum rumored to be involved with bestselling author

on set of his latest movie
Corbin Callum, 28, reportedly has affair with bestselling
author Kinley Thomas, 26, on the set of the film Through
Shattered Glass.
Callum and Thomas were seen together on multiple occasions
off set of the movie based on Thomas’s novel. Pictures taken
of Callum sneaking in and out of the Five Seasons hotel where
Thomas stayed sparked more rumors following the images of
the two out together earlier in the month.
One source working at the hotel tells Entertainment Daily that
Callum would “wear an oversized hoodie and sunglasses and
take the employee’s only entrance at the back of the hotel to
visit Thomas in her room after dark.”
Another source claims that Hollywood’s Most Desired Man
would wait in the lobby for Thomas to come downstairs and
“cut the calls from his wife short as soon as Thomas would
appear.”
Hotel photos reveal a disguised Callum walking the halls
trying to remain inconspicuous, not leaving Thomas’s room
until hours later.
No comments have been made from either party.
 CHAPTER ONE

K INLEY / Present

T HERE ’ S a tingling awareness of the hardened skin beneath my

oversized sweater. The baggy material on my lean figure is
premature, but the anxiety of the wrong eyes seeing too much
keeps me sweating under the scratchy cotton.
Tugging.
Gripping.
Squirming.
Nobody is looking, yet they see too much.
Pushing the plastic cart to check out, I do everything in my
power not to turn my head a fraction to the left. It’s a
worthless feat. The colorful covers and bold print are there for
the world to see, preying on helpless customers stuck in line
with nothing else to do.
His face.
His hands.
Those eyes.
Mine are plastered on the way he holds Lena Dasani’s
hand as they walk toward the photographers on a crowded
street. His shades are hooked on the collar of his pristine white
tee, not covering his silver eyes like they were when he was
with me. There’s no hat. No disguise. Why would there be?
When he’s with his wife, he doesn’t have to hide.
 Swallowing the rising nausea, I take a deep breath and
force my eyes to look at any other magazine. Cooking.
Lifestyle. Fashion. But Corbin Callum is on every fucking one
like I’m the butt of the universe’s pathetic joke.
“Isn’t he sexy?” a voice says from behind me, causing my
gaze to lift to a blonde girl no older than sixteen.
I blink. “Uh…”
The blonde rambles despite my lack of conversational
interest. “Anyone would be blind not to admit how beautiful
the man is. It’s unfair.”
That catches my interest. “Unfair?”
She scoffs in exasperation. “That men like him exist. It
seems unreal to me. Have you seen pictures of him shirtless?”
My stomach twists. Can she see my skin gloss with dotted
sweat? The back of my mind replays the moments shared with
the very man she’s gushing over. Unreal is right. Fingertips
tingling over the memories of them trailing over sculpted abs
and mountains of muscle confirms everything she assumes.
And once more, I hate myself.
Tugging on the hem of my sweater for the millionth time, I
give her my best nonchalant shrug like I’m indifferent to the
man who plagues my mind. “He’s okay, I guess.”
One of the girl’s blonde brows arch like she doesn’t
believe me. Shifting from one foot to another, I shoot her a
small smile. It’s all I can offer under the scrutiny of my own
conscience. I know what I’ve done. Corbin knows what he’s
done. But the world doesn’t know the intimate details despite
the article published almost two months ago.
I shut the world out after getting back, keeping silent
hoping the worst would pass. Missed calls, texts, emails all
pile up from people who claim they care. But my chest
struggles to differentiate those who are telling the truth or not,
so I stop looking at them.
The girl’s eyes narrow, and the slightest tilt of the head has
anxiety blasting warning signs that I should just leave. “Do I
know you from somewhere?”
My black leggings, oversized sweater, and messy brown
hair pulled back helps me blend in. I don’t look out of the
ordinary and do my best not to draw unwanted attention to
myself. People in Lake Roe don’t recognize me very often. It’s
a large enough town not to be noticed, giving me privacy that
I’ve had no choice but to keep.
I push my cart forward once the line moves, turning
slightly. “Sorry, I don’t think so.”
Not giving her a chance to press, I busy myself by pulling
my credit card out of my wallet and move to start unloading
my purchases onto the conveyer belt. It’s hard not to feel the
burn of curious eyes. I’ve acknowledged that I’m this person
now—the one who cheats, lies, and destroys people’s lives.
But is his destroyed?
My eyes can’t help but dart back to the magazine rack,
where Corbin’s small smile to the photographers graces the
front. He doesn’t look destroyed. The only life I’ve ruined is
my own.
The girl behind me picks up one of the magazines and
tosses it on to the conveyer. “It’s okay to admit you like that
sort of stuff. My mom gets all weird about it too.”
Freezing over the magazine shifting closer to the cashier as
the belt moves, my eyes turn to the teenager. I don’t know
what to say and can’t put it back in fear of how that will make
me look. When I go outside, I’ll throw the magazine away and
never open the pages to see the newest story they’ve printed.
Yet another lie.

T HE CURSER on my laptop blinks, the empty screen taunting

me as I draw my knees up to perch on the edge of the
cushioned office chair. Tapping my nail against the desk, I
reach toward the keyboard to write something, anything,
before sighing in defeat.
 Resting in the desk drawer beside me is every edition of
my life in fifteen hundred words or less. Grainy pictures.
Professional pictures. Choppy quotes. Wild assumptions
woven together by truth and exaggerations. I collect every
magazine and don’t know why.
My cell rests screen down, buzzing with an oncoming call.
Hands twitching against my stomach, I prepare myself for any
name to appear when I flip it over. Picking it up, I exhale in
the tiniest bit of relief as I swipe to answer.
“Hello, Jamie.”
“Kinley,” my agent greets. Long nails tapping against keys
fills the hesitant silence between us. The noise abruptly stops.
“How have things been going since we last spoke? I expect
you’re nearly done with the second book?”
My eyes go back to the blank screen. “It’s a work in
progress,” is the only thing I can think to say. It’s better than
the last update she got almost a month and a half ago. The
story ideas that normally swirl through my head all
disappeared the second I got back to New York.
“They’re expecting it next month. We’re all on deadlines
here,” she reminds me, sternness in her tone. “The remaining
two books need to be finished by the end of the year.”
Her reminder of the three-book deal leaves thick anxiety
creeping up my throat until it hurts to swallow. The first book
was one I polished off in California—a way to distract myself
from a certain silver-eyed man. “I know they’ve been patient
with me, but I may need a little extension—”
“No.” I wince back into my seat at the all-business, no-
bullshit response. The few times I’ve witnessed it in person
were never directed at me, but it made shivers roll down my
spine regardless. “They gave you time after what happened
with Parker, but you promised you’d make the new deadlines.
We’ve worked very hard to secure this deal, Kinley. You
cannot risk losing that. One House is too big of a publisher to
get on their bad side.”
Parker.
 Normally, the name deepens the little crack in my heart he
left behind after calling off our engagement. It’d taken a long
time to open up to someone who seemed supportive of my
career, crazy schedule, and preferred seclusion, but he’d been
that person for me. I knew exactly what Corbin meant when he
told me that Lena was what he needed for a while because
Parker had been the same distraction for me. But somewhere
along the way Parker Jennings got tired of it all. I couldn’t
blame him and the way he called me out for focusing more on
my books than him. He was right.
Now his name doesn’t give me the same ache in my chest.
In fact, there’s no feeling at all. I know the reason behind it is
because there’s a hole much deeper from somebody else. The
crack Parker left is nonexistent in comparison.
Numbness aside, I find myself nodding. What else can I do
when I know Jamie is right? If I mess up this deal, I’ll lose the
advancement and any opportunity to publish through them
again. But the itchiness of another risk lingering in the depths
of my conscience keeps me unsteady regardless of the final
two books that I have yet to write.
The truth sits at the tip of my tongue but refuses to escape
past my parted lips. After the first accusations of Corbin and I
being involved made gossip outlets all over the country, I
convinced Jamie Little and her team to let it slide instead of
making a press release to deny anything. It would have made
the public more eager to believe something happened if we
were quick to say nothing had. The last thing I wanted was for
someone like Jamie, who took a chance on me when I was
younger, to be disappointed.
I can shut myself away from the world and layer in clothes
to hide what’s growing inside me, but it won’t last forever.
Rumors will become reality the second the wrong person sees.
Every day I try figuring out how to accept that this can’t be
undone, but I choke on the bitter pill I swallowed when I
admitted to myself that I still love Corbin.
Nine years of pretending like I let go is almost a decade
spent suffering. How many people have I brought down with
me? My ring finger still feels the absence of the silver band I
wore—the one Parker wouldn’t even let me give back despite
the limited money he made.
“Kinley?” Jamie sighs, typing again and clicking on
something. “Your schedule is wide open right now, so you
should be able to finish if you stick to daily deadlines. Pace
yourself like you did when you wrote Through Shattered
Glass.”
Nostrils flaring over the book that got me into this mess, I
shake my head. Writing that book doesn’t compare to the
standalone series following new characters that I took on when
I signed with One House. The characters are new and have
nothing to do with me or my life, which was supposed to make
it easier. Instead, I’m suffocating under the pressure of living
somebody else’s life like a fraud when I have so much to say
that’s left unsaid like it isn’t important.
I’m pregnant!
I’m in love!
I’m miserable!
I want to write my truth on paper and submit it for the
world to see hoping it’ll relieve the pressure sitting on my
chest. Every day when I force myself to sit down and write all
I do is focus on the things I can’t fictionalize for the sake of
admission. My conscience needs clearing, but the guilt just
continues festering until I fear I’ll explode.
And I let it because I know that it’s smarter than risking
everything I’ve worked hard for. “I’ve just been off since
getting back from California. Seeing the movie took a toll on
me and it was hard to sit back down and write.”
Her pause allows me to breathe, closing my eyes and
rubbing my forehead while I wait for her response. Sweat dots
my brow because I know Jamie’s perspective isn’t like my
own. We come from two different backgrounds. “Do you
remember when you came to my office the first time all those
years ago?”
Walking down memory lane isn’t what I anticipate her
response to be. Wetting my lips, I say, “Yes.”
 “You’ve accomplished a lot since then.” The statement is
one I’d usually be reveling in considering Jamie rarely passes
out praise. “I know you have a lot more success in you, but
you need to stay on track for that to continue. Do you
understand?”
I understand that I’m screwed—that I’m about to let her
down. I consider her more than an agent. She’s like a second
mother to me. One who helps me achieve every dream I have
no matter the size and is proud of me for making something of
myself despite the odds.
It isn’t what I answer. “Understood.”
I know there isn’t a smile on her face, but certainly a
victorious glint in her dark eyes. “I’ll let you get back to work.
Oh, and be on the lookout for something in the mail this week.
I was sent mock-ups of the movie posters that will be used for
promotional material. In fact, the publisher wants to use the
same image for the new book covers. You should receive it in
the next few days. Otherwise, let me know if there’s anything
you need from me.”
All I can think is, a miracle.
 CHAPTER TWO

C ORBIN / Present

A SOFT HAND gripping my hard cock stirs me from a deep

sleep, causing me to groan as it moves up and down in
torturous strokes. My lips part as I arch my hips, seeking
more. Half asleep, I reach out to the person responsible.
Caressing smooth skin, I notice the slightest curve of lean
feminine arms.
“Fuck, baby. That feels good.”
“Mm. I missed you too, handsome,” an accented voice
purrs back at me.
Eyes shooting open, I jerk away from the wafting scent of
seawater and jasmine—the combination undoubtedly
belonging to my wife. The one whose finger I put a ring on
when I had no right to. She might’ve been what I needed at the
time, but I knew I was fucking up. Kinley was the only woman
I should’ve ever put my ring on.
Sitting up, the sheet covering me drops to reveal my naked
body. Lena’s blue eyes flash with appreciation, landing on the
way my cock tents the thin material barely covering it.
“Jesus Christ, Len.” She’s kneeling on the side of the bed
she used to occupy, dressed in her favorite floral maxi dress
she bought in Greece a few years back. The amount of
cleavage shown always gets her attention when she wears it
out. And she does. Often.
 Her painted bottom lip sticks out. “Why do you sound so
angry?”
Blowing out a breath, I scrub a palm down my scruffy jaw.
“I’m not angry, you just surprised me.”
She reaches out and brushes hair from my forehead, letting
it tangle in her tan fingers. I can tell she’s noticed how long it’s
grown. “You need a haircut. Want me to schedule you one?”
“I’m fine.”
Her brow quirks. “You’re not.” Before I can stop her, her
hand grazes my morning wood again. I jerk in her palm as she
cups me. “Let me relieve your stress. It’s the least I can do
after being gone so long.”
It isn’t like being separated from each other is foreign. Out
of the six years we’ve been together, and the five and a half
spent married, we’ve seen each other in a spattering of weeks
at a time. Not months. Weeks.
My eyes drift closed as she removes the sheet, leaving me
bare to the cool air. She quickly warms it with the friction of
her hand, playing with the sensitive nerves under the tip.
“We shouldn’t…” I’m cut off when her hot mouth wraps
around the engorged head of my cock, drawing my entire
length in her mouth like she’s far too experienced at doing. My
fingers absentmindedly go to the back of her head, but instead
of guiding her to the perfect rhythm, I pull her away with a
pop of her lips.
“Please stop,” I rasp, throwing the sheets off me and
swinging my legs over the side of the bed. Reaching for a pair
of discarded boxer briefs from the floor, I slip them on before
standing and turning to face her.
Her arms cross on her chest. “And you say you’re not
angry with me,” she scoffs, sliding off the mattress. “It’s been
months since you visited me and my family, and this is how
you treat me?”
I sigh, knowing I’m being a giant asshole. Walking over to
her, I reach out and rub her upper arms that are toned from the
workout schedule she obsesses over daily. “I’m sorry, Len. I
don’t mean to be a dick. I just haven’t been feeling well the
past couple of days.”
Her eyes soften. “You’re sick?”
Clearing my throat, I step away. “I’m not sure. I think I
might just be run down from shooting. Ever since we finished
filming, I’ve been a little off. It’s nothing.”
Cringing over the absolute bullshit I’m spewing, I walk
into the bathroom to get ready for my day. When Lena appears
in the corner of my eye, she studies me with narrow eyes.
“Yes, how did the movie go?”
She isn’t really asking about the movie though. She rarely
asks about work, just when I’ll be done with whatever I’m
filming at the time. I learned a long time ago that she only asks
questions that benefit her. Nothing more.
“Fine.” I flush the toilet and walk over to turn on the
shower. “Buchannan seems happy and told us he’d call when
he got it pieced together for an early viewing.”
She moves to the sink, playing with her hair and adjusting
the loose waves she always spends hours styling to perfection.
“And what about the author… What is her name again?
Kelsey? Kerry?”
Though I’m not proud of the features Kinley and I have
had in tabloids, there’s no way Lena or her parents haven’t
seen it. They have copies of everything I’m in, especially if I
fuck up. Her father never liked me, her mother simply
tolerates me, and everyone else only cares about the fame.
“What about her?” I ask, not wanting to feed the fire that I
know is sparking in her eyes. I’ve seen Lena angry and don’t
want that wrath to come out.
You deserve it.
The shower begins steaming the room, causing the mirror
to fog over. She moves away from her reflection and turns to
me. “How does she think the movie turned out?”
“I couldn’t be sure.” I grab a towel and place it on the hook
near the shower. “She left early. Work or some other reason.”
 She hums out a reply, not quite believing me with good
reason. “I’m sure she’s a very busy woman. Hopefully she
wasn’t too star stuck. I hear people like her tend to attach
themselves too easily to celebrities. They get hurt that way.”
Celebrities like us, is what she fails to say. It’s woven
between her words, and I suddenly realize why Kinley was so
pissed off at me for implying the same thing once upon a time.
It makes us sound like entitled assholes.
“Kinley isn’t like that.”
Her blue eyes flash with victory. “Ah, that’s right. Kinley.
Very unique name, no? It seems fitting for her.”
Something tells me that isn’t a compliment but defending
Kinley won’t make this conversation end any quicker. “I’ve
got a lot to do today, Lena. Do you mind?”
When she sees me gesturing toward the door, her lips part.
“I’ve seen you naked more times than I can count. You want
me to leave?”
I don’t want to point out that she spends what little time
she has in California at her house, not mine. That tidbit
obviously seems lost on her since she let herself in without
telling me she was coming.
“I’d hate for you to get sick.”
Her eyes pin me.
Wetting my lips, I say, “Why don’t we go out for breakfast
after I’m finished getting ready? We still have a lot to talk
about. Neither one of us can avoid the conversation much
longer.”
For a long moment, she just watches me. Based on the
distance in her eyes, I can tell my offer isn’t welcome. “As you
said, I’d hate to get sick. I’ll call you later, Callum.”
Callum. Not Corbin.
When was the last time my wife called me by my first
name? She’s always used the same title the world chose for
me. Callum. Hollywood heartbreaker. If only the press knew
how right they are. Other than my mother, only one other
person uses my actual name and she hasn’t gotten any of my
messages.
The door slamming closed behind her has me cussing into
the steam-filled room. Peeling off my boxers, I step into the
shower and let the water drown out my thoughts. Like always,
Kinley finds her way back in.

W ITH MY BREAKFAST shake in hand, I settle at my kitchen

table and scroll through the undelivered emails saved in my
inbox. Each one is addressed to the same person, as if one will
magically get through the outdated email address provided on
her website.

T O : [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Little Bird

L ITTLE B IRD –

Y OU HAVEN ’ T USED my number which means you either didn’t

get the notebook or haven’t wanted to give me another shot. I
can’t say I blame you if it’s the latter, but we should talk.

C ALL ME .

T O : [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Little Bird

L ITTLE B IRD –
Y OU MIGHT HAVE NOTICED the email address. Knowing you,
you rolled your eyes. I watched the remake and liked it better
than the original. I remember your reaction when I put on IT
and still laugh. I’m pretty sure you asked me if Stephen King
was known to smoke crack before writing his novels. I still
don’t know the answer to that, but I’m guessing no.

I NEED to know you’re okay.

I love you, Kinley.

T O : [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Little Bird

L ITTLE B IRD –

R EMEMBER what I said before I left the hotel that night. This
isn’t goodbye. Not again.

C ALL . Me.

B RUSHING A HAND THROUGH MY HAIR , I don’t bother reading

the rest of them because the lack of response will just batter
me more. I want to believe the post office lost my gift, but I
have a feeling she received it. It leaves a sour taste in my
mouth wondering if she made the final decision about us
without me.
Grazing the keys of my cell, I exhale a heavy breath and
type out one last email before resorting to new measures. Our
history is a record of cycles that bring us back to the same
outcome.
Corbin and Kinley.
Actor and author.
Two dreamers.
I’m not ready to break that cycle, but to form a new one.
One without pain. One without heartache. One where there’s
nobody but ourselves to stop us from finding that feeling that
kept us soaring in the past.

T O : [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Little Bird

F LY WITH ME , Little Bird.

S ENDING THE EMAIL UNSUCCESSFULLY , I switch to social media

and track down one person who might be able to help without
asking too many questions. That is, if I didn’t burn that bridge
too.
When I click Zach Russo’s name, I hold my breath and
type out a quick message hoping not everyone from Lincoln
hates me.
To my surprise, he replies. It gives me hope that it’s not
too late for me to patch up old relationships no matter how
many years have passed. There’s only one I want to focus on,
and I’m staring at her phone number and a message from the
very friend I thought I’d lost her to.
Don’t fuck it up this time, asshole.
 CHAPTER THREE

K INLEY / Past

S TARING up at the large skyscraper, I swallow back the nerves

that ground my feet to the pavement. The sun’s reflection on
glass and steel has me wincing as I trail my eyes over to the
sign of offices within the huge building.
An elbow nudges my arm. “You look constipated, quit
making that face.”
Glaring at my brother, I loosen my shoulders and heft out a
sigh. “I’m nervous, Gavin. You would be too if you were in
my shoes.”
His smile turns from teasing to serious. “I know you are,
but we came all this way. You’ll be fine. You’re just meeting
with the woman, right? What’s the worst that can happen?”
My mind conjures a long list of embarrassing things. What
if I step into Little’s Literary Agency and vomit? Or sweat
through my clothes? Or forget how to talk? The possibilities of
things that can go wrong are endless. I get one good chance to
make an impression, I hear Jamie Little isn’t an easy woman
to impress.
“Everything,” I mumble.
“Could be worse,” he states, pushing me along with him to
the spinning glass doors. People power walk by, not paying us
any attention despite us sticking out like the middle-of-
nowhere natives that we are. Gavin is in jeans and a plaid
button-up with dirty work boots on that I begged him to
change out of. He just rolled his eyes and ignored me. “Mom
and Dad could have come with you instead of me.”
I scrunch my face at the ridiculous statement. “They’d
never come to the city, Gav. I’m not even sure why you did. I
know you can’t stand this kind of scene.”
He deadpans. “You’re not even eighteen yet, Kinley. None
of us were going to let you come to New York City on your
own to talk to a woman you’ve never met. You could get
kidnapped or sex trafficked.”
I blink. “Uh…”
Shrugging, a slight tilt to his lips appears as we enter the
fancy foyer bathed in white with a sleek black desk positioned
off to the side. A glass directory hangs on the wall by four sets
of elevators. “The more I think about it, the more I realize
you’d never get kidnapped. You’re too ugly. Nobody would
want you.”
Smacking his arm, I hit the button for the agency’s floor
and watch his shoulders shake from laughing. “Dweeb.”
“Dickwad,” he returns easily.
Entering the elevator, I feel my palms get clammy. Wiping
them on the fronts of my black jeans, I realize I could have
dressed up more. The shin-high brown boots, cream sweater,
and red plaid scarf that Mom gave me isn’t very formal. Paired
with a burgundy leather jacket that Gavin bought me makes it
look a little more put together, but suddenly I’m thinking of
any other outfit I could have put on.
I sent a selfie to Corbin before leaving my room and he
told me I looked beautiful as always. I’m realizing now that I
should have tried for professional—maybe something to make
me look older. A dress, heels, something. Beauty isn’t a part of
this industry like it is Corbin’s.
When the elevator stops at the eighth floor, I swallow hard
and glance at my brother. He gives me one little nod that eases
some of my worry. As annoying as he is, he supports me.
 “I’ll wait here,” he says, gesturing toward a line of blue
chairs by reception. There’s a large fake plant in the corner
that he flicks before sitting down, stretching out his legs and
making himself comfortable.
The receptionist is a brown-haired woman who’s probably
around Mom’s age with a friendly smile plastered on her face.
“Can I help you, dear?”
Playing with the hem of my sweater, I give her a timid
nod. “I’m here to see Jamie. Er, Ms. Little, I mean.”
Amusement flickers on her face as she holds up her finger
and picks up the phone. “I just need your name to confirm you
have an appointment.”
After I tell her, I shoot a quick glance at my brother who’s
playing on his phone. He must sense me staring because he
looks over and shoots me a thumbs up. Rolling my eyes, I turn
my attention back to the receptionist as she hangs up the
phone.
She gestures toward the open space to the side of her desk.
“Her office is all the way in the back to the right. You can’t
miss it.”
“Thank you.” My voice is weak, so I clear it and nod my
head for good measure like that will somehow help.
Gavin mouths good luck before I begin my venture past
offices lining the walkway. Some doors are open with people
behind computers, some are closed with others on phones. It
smells like coffee and something floral, a relaxing mixture that
I soak up as I see Jamie’s name on the side of a glass wall in
the back corner.
The woman behind it looks exactly like her picture online.
Short white hair styled to perfection, a no-nonsense expression
on her face, and a navy-blue blazer over a white blouse that
screams business. I’ve done my research on my company ever
since I got the email from her after she judged a writing
contest I’d been in. She’s been successful since opening the
doors to the agency over five years ago, signing names that go
on to become bestsellers in the industry.
 Jamie is seated behind her desk typing something on the
computer when I arrive at her door. Unsure if I should knock
or announce myself, I fidget until her head picks up.
“You can come in, Ms. Thomas.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, I smile and take a hesitant step
into her office. It’s bright from the large windows behind her
and inviting with white bookshelves lining the wall that are
filled with multi-colored book spines. On the opposite wall are
pictures of Jamie with different authors, some on red carpets
from movies based on books she represents, others holding
awards. It leaves my lips parted as I study some of my favorite
authors showcased in the black picture frames.
“I don’t bite,” she says, leaning back in her chair once I
gather the nerve to look at her. There’s humor in her tone, but
not her features. It makes me walk further in until she gestures
toward two comfortable looking blue armchairs positioned in
front of her desk.
The round clock on the wall indicates it’s 3:05, making me
squirm a little as I sit. “I’m sorry for being so early. I expected
the commute to take longer.”
She rests her folded hands in her lap. “Did you take the
T?”
I stare at her for a moment. “I, uh, took the subway?”
Cringing at how stupid I sound for making the statement a
question, I mentally slap myself.
The tiniest smile appears on the corner of her lips. “I
forgot you’re not from around here. Anyway, I appreciate you
being early. A pet peeve of mine is tardiness. So, did you look
over the information I sent you? Do you have any questions
about the contract or anything else?”
Giddiness over hearing those words escape her makeup-
less lips makes me reach for my bag. The day I got an email
from her still makes goosebumps coat my arms with pride. I
was in study hall listening to Zach jabber on about some sports
game he watched when I saw the email sitting in my inbox.
The literary agency’s name had been the subject line. Zach had
asked why I was making weird noises, but I ignored him
completely as my shaky hands hit the button to read whatever
was sent.
Blowing out a breath, I take out the paperwork. We could
have gone over the contract online or spoken on the phone to
go over questions. But our email exchange left the option open
to come here, and I craved to see the city and talk with her
face to face instead. As much as I wanted to put a pen to paper
and be part of this company as soon as I found out about it, my
brother told me to hold off until after speaking with Jamie. It
isn’t often he’s the voice of reason, but it made sense. My
parents easily agreed, though they weren’t happy that I’d
already told Jamie I’d be open to traveling to see her instead of
finding a different way to communicate.
I fidget with the sleeve of my sweater. “I was wondering
why you decided to take a chance on me.”
It’s a bold question in the grand scheme of things. Most
people are probably smart enough not to ask it, but I need the
answer. I’ve submitted countless stories and only won a few
contests, getting published in various magazines online. Sure,
I’ve had the chance to talk with an author or two since
submitting to the website, but even they told me to hold off
getting representation until I have more writing experience
under my belt.
My eyes travel back around the room, focusing on the
images of authors I aspire to be like someday. It seems
farfetched to even be sitting in this room, but I remind myself
anything is possible. And here I am.
Corbin says the same thing, reminding me that we can do
anything if we work hard enough for it. You’ve got to jump
from the nest and trust your wings will work, Little Bird.
Jamie’s hands move from her lap to the edge of her desk,
her fingers weaving together as she studies me. “I see the drive
you have, Kinley. When I was asked to help judge the first
competition you won, I saw promise from your submission.
When it comes to talent in writing, I don’t believe in luck.
Some people have a natural gift from the start, others don’t.”
 And she thinks I do?
“You’re young, but you’re not letting anything get in the
way of accomplishing something big.” She points toward the
contract in front of me. “You could be doing anything right
now, but you’re here with me. Why is that?”
It seems like the answer is obvious. “I want this.” Not
wanting to be too simple, I scooch forward and touch the
contract. “Every time somebody asks me what I want to do
when I’m older, they judge me for my answer.”
Her head tilts. “And what is it you want to do, Kinley?”
Without hesitation, I answer, “I want to inspire people.”
There’s a minor shift in her expression, her dark eyes
brightening as if I said exactly what she wants to hear. “That’s
why I took a chance on you. You’ll be eighteen next year.
Most agencies wouldn’t even think to reach out to anyone
before that point. It’s rare they give someone the opportunity
they deserve regardless of natural talent.”
I shift in my seat. “That’s why I’m a little confused as to
why you did. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. More than
you could ever know. When people find out I want to write for
a living, they think I’m joking. I know how much work goes
into making a book successful, and understand it takes having
someone like you backing me to make it more likely to
happen. I just…” My shoulders lift. “It seems like this is too
good to be true if I’m being honest.”
The sound of my heartbeat startles me as I watch her study
me. She leans back in her seat again, one of her brows arched.
I can’t tell if I offended her or not, but my clammy hands
suddenly become worse and I’m too nervous to wipe them off.
I don’t want to walk out of here without a signed contract.
“The stories you’ve posted online are all based on
something, aren’t they?” Her inquisitive gaze tells me she
already knows the answer. “Let me ask you something. Have
you considered combining everything you’ve submitted?
You’d be close to the usual requirement for a full-length novel
if you did. With some tweaks, extensions, and a little polish,
it’d be a unique story about two teenagers who grow together
to work toward their dreams. A coming of age, if you will.”
Swallowing, I think about Beck and Ryker. The two
characters are loosely based on Corbin and me, but I haven’t
been able to write more because it feels like there’s something
blocking me. It’s easy to write about two people who love
each other when you feel it. So why is my gut preventing me
from finishing their story like I want to?
Corbin has been busy with the movie for the past couple of
months. We still find time for one another, but it’s different.
Our talks of dreams and goals are still strong, but they divide
us in ways that make it hard to understand him now. He tells
me all about his new friends and the opportunities his acting
coach has mentioned since the film he shot was completed.
His coach even thinks Corbin will get an agent and manager
that way he can try getting more roles to broaden his portfolio.
I love seeing him do what he’s passionate about because it
lights up his face. Instead of worrying about his father’s
reactions to his success, he celebrates everything he’s
accomplished in his own way.
Still, the warnings my brother gave me about Corbin’s
impending departure from Lincoln lingers. Eventually, he’ll
graduate and find better places to go. I hope Gavin is wrong
about him though. Corbin will come back for me because
we’re too alike. We’re driven, determined, and yearning to
make something of our lives. And we keep our promises.
Always.
“I never considered it,” I admit. “It’ll be difficult to write
more of. I haven’t been feeling very inspired which is why my
entries have been on different characters.” I pause when I
realize something vital that led me here. “You’ve been
following all of my submissions?”
Her chin dips. “I look out for people I think I can make
something of. With the right amount of work that book can
become something big, Kinley. Coming of age stories are a hot
commodity, and what better storyteller than someone living
the journey? I wasn’t going to let you shop anything with
somebody else if I could get to you first.”
My eyes widen. I never expected somebody like her to tell
me that. It’s different hearing your writing is good from
someone close to you. Corbin insists it’s going to take me
places all the time, but he’s obligated to make me feel good
about myself.
“You underestimate yourself,” she states, as if she can read
my mind. “When people write because they want to, it
changes the game. It isn’t about money or fame, even though
those are nice to have too. It’s about making a difference.”
I press my lips together. “What if I can’t though? It seems
like having an impact on people is difficult.”
“Do you have a story to tell?”
I look at the contract again, toying with my thumbs.
“Don’t we all?”
“Agencies and publishers are afraid to take a chance on
youth because they’re afraid of disappointment.” She shrugs
like it’s that simple, but the thought terrifies me. “But I think
people like you are our best asset when utilized right.”
“Because of my story?”
“Most people only write what they feel they can do justice.
It doesn’t matter if you think it’ll make a difference. It always
will to somebody.”
My body loosens with ease. Smiling, I pick up a pen from
her jar and click it open. Despite her weariness, Mom signed
the contract since I’m under the legal age to sign it on my
own. Dad had their lawyers look it over to make sure it’s fair,
but I knew I wouldn’t get anything better than this even before
the lawyer confirmed as much.
I begin signing my name, thankful for all the times I’ve
practiced my signature in classes pretending my notebooks
were novels. “I trust my parents’ lawyer and I trust you.”
“Why is that?” she questions.
 Pushing the contract to her, I say, “It’s like you said.
Everybody else thinks youth is a risk. If people don’t like my
book I want it to be because they don’t think it’s for them. Not
because I don’t have the experience to tell the story. My story.”
An impressed looks colors her otherwise blanketed
features. “Keep up that determination, and you’ll find yourself
on every list there is to be on before you’re twenty-five.”
Wetting my lips, I glance quickly at the pictures on her walls.
She says, “You’ll be up there too one day.”
Emotion grips my chest, leaving my lips wavering in a
grateful smile. Telling her how much I need to hear that is
impossible. I manage to thank her before thinking about the
possibilities this new relationship will bring.
Spread your wings, Little Bird.
I smile to myself and think about Beck and Ryker and
what their love will do for me.
I am, Corbin.
 CHAPTER FOUR

K INLEY / Present

T HE COLD TILE is welcome against my clammy skin as I curl

up on my side hugging the toilet bowl. Closing my eyes, I
blow out a shaky breath and ignore the sharp pain in my
shoulder from the hard floor. Lying in bed and sweating
through my pajamas isn’t an option with the way my stomach
churns.
I’m not sure how long I lay there. I think I doze off for a
while because I wake up to my cell ringing from where it rests
on my nightstand. Not knowing what time it is, I groan to
myself as I stiffly sit up. Wincing at the lightheadedness that
takes over, I gather my bearings and peel myself off the floor.
The rancid smell of my morning sickness fades as I walk
into the bedroom. Swiping at my forehead, I sit on the edge of
the mattress and glance at the familiar blue light flashing in the
corner of my phone.
“Shit.” My eyes train on the new missed call from my
brother. My family agreed to give me space when I asked for it
after the second tabloid hit, but I know they want answers. I’ve
texted them saying I’m fine, but that’s all I’ve had the energy
to mention. The more news that comes out against me, the
more restless they become.
Each time a new picture appears of me with Corbin, it
becomes front page news. Despite believing it’ll fade from
people’s interest, there’s always some new piece of evidence
against me. It’s hard to deny what everyone is saying when
you have detailed accounts from hotel staff where I stayed that
piles onto the guilt I’m already buried under.
The staff was all too happy to give the paparazzi an inside
scoop, especially for a good price. I should have known
someone would talk. They don’t owe me anything. Maybe I’d
even talk too if I were in their shoes.
When Gavin’s name lights up the screen again, fear locks
my body. My voicemail is full of unanswered calls, which I’m
sure he’s long since figured out. Heart pumping wildly in my
chest, I stare until my phone goes black again. Part of me
wants to answer and hear his voice, but another knows it won’t
be a civil conversation. He’s told me countless times that he’s
here for me—both he and his wife Kayla have visited when
I’ve been at low points with writer’s block or stressing about
deadlines. They’d send me well wishes from Mom and Dad,
sometimes even bringing food Mom made because she knows
I don’t eat when my schedule is packed.
I torture myself with isolation from them because there are
no words that can form an explanation for all that has
happened. I let the tears welling in my eyes roll down my
cheeks and accept that I made this bed and have to lay in it.
The lightest tap of a teardrop hits my arm, breaking me from
the stupor I’m frozen in.
Walking away from the small torture device before it can
flash again, I grab fresh clothes from my dresser and head
toward the bathroom. Letting the shower run, I strip off my
pajamas and walk over to the vanity. My complexion is frail,
eyes too dark and skin too pale. I look as sick as I feel.
With anxiety. With stress. With reality.
Running a brush through my tangled hair, I remember
strong fingers making the very same strokes. I let my eyes
close, memorizing the sensation. My movements slow as
silver eyes pierce my thoughts until I can’t bare to look at
them any longer.
When I open my eyes, I can’t see my reflection through
my blurry gaze. Jaw trembling, I drop my brush and walk
toward the steamed glass with billowing water behind it. I step
into the hot spray and pretend everything can wash off me.
The memories.
The choices.
The hurt.
But no matter how long I let the water cascade over my
body, it doesn’t help. The heaviness of my hair sticking to my
face matches the weight pounding in my chest. Struggling to
breathe, I press my palm to the wall and stare as the water
crashes against the floor.
When the sound of my phone goes off for the millionth
time, I slam my fist against the side of the wall and find my
way to the floor. Wrapping my arms around my legs, I curl up
and drown in my indiscretions.
Belly hard against my thighs, I rest my forehead on my
knees and slowly begin breaking down for the first time since
the news.
“Make it stop,” I whisper.

M Y CALICO CAT Penny jumps on the desk in front of me,

nudging my hand until the magazine I stare at falls open onto
my lap. The image on display has me blowing out a breath,
seeing my light brown hair barely covering my face as Corbin
and I leave the hotel. It looks like someone took it from a
distance the night we’d gone to the drugstore for Motrin
because neither of us noticed anyone pointing a camera at us.
Smaller images of him in his hoodie and sunglasses coat
the side of the article. The interior décor of the hotel hallway
leading to my room is in the background of each picture. It’s
my guess that someone waited for him the last night he
showed up.
Corbin Callum seen sneaking out of Kinley Thomas’s hotel
room just days after the two were seen off set together.
I bite down on the remainder of my thumbnail until it
cracks under the pressure. Wincing from the pain, I release my
finger and study each printed image. How long did they wait
to capture these? I’m sure whoever was assigned to get the
inside scoop had a lot to tell.
Jamie says its defamation since there’s no actual evidence
over what the press is saying. It doesn’t matter that Corbin’s
touch is intimate, or that he’s at my hotel hiding himself
because he knows he’s not supposed to be there. It’s all
speculation, and speculation sells copies.
I wonder if Jamie’s in denial or doesn’t care, but I can’t get
myself to think too deeply on it in fear of the answer.
The problem of the supposed speculation comes from the
quotes gathered by people from the movie—quotes that make
it hard to deny that something went on while I was in
California based on the volume of accusations. Extras talked,
and they said all reporters needed to hear to piece together a
story.
One inside source claims they saw Ms. Thomas walking to
Callum’s trailer and didn’t resurface until hours later. “A few
of us saw the way they looked at each other on set. It wasn’t
hard to figure out something was going on between them even
before we saw them disappear together.”
Scrubbing a palm down my face, I skim over the rest of the
article and shake my head. I don’t know how many people
were on set when I decided to go to Corbin’s trailer. It wasn’t
like I frequented it—I’d been twice, and the second time
involved me slapping him across the face like he deserved. But
clearly whoever kept tabs on me didn’t care about that because
they’d formed their own assumptions.
Jamie told me not to say anything to the people online who
started attacking me once the news broke. Everything with my
name on it had been trolled by fans of Corbin and Lena.
Names were called. Memes were created. My business email
was taken over by somebody else because the threats were too
intense to deal with on my own and my physical mail had to
be screened because of the amounts of hate I received.
The whole thing is a mess that I haven’t seen Corbin try to
stop. Someone had to take over all my social media pages to
get it under control because of the amount of people posting
on my threads and reporting my content. Other then the
occasional email I get forwarded that’s business related or
something sweet my loyal readers send me amidst the drama, I
don’t see anything worthwhile anymore.
Before I could say no again to issuing a press release,
Corbin’s people issued a statement saying that the rumors of
us are ridiculous—that Corbin and Lena are happily married
and don’t need the public trying to tear them apart over
unrealistic rumors. Unrealistic. I’d be lying if I said that
wasn’t a punch to the gut.
Maybe if I were anybody else, I’d believe that statement. I
would doubt the likelihood of someone as famous as Corbin
getting involved with someone less than his status like me.
I’ve ranted about people trying to make a big deal out of
everything before. If this were any other couple, I would have
even rooted for them to make it despite the rumors.
But for obvious reasons, I can’t. I just wonder what
Corbin’s expression was when he approved the release. Did he
cringe? Nod? Even try to fight against issuing that for the
world to see? I’m not sure I want to know the truth.
As soon as his statement was made, Jamie acted quickly to
make ours. I couldn’t even try telling her the truth about the
tricky situation before she made the decision for me. I no
longer have a voice. Telling her that I’m pregnant after
informing the world that Corbin and I are nothing more than a
story in a tabloid would just label me a liar.
Shaking my head from the rabbit hole I’m jumping toward
I focus my gaze on the stack of posters still sitting in the
cardboard box they were delivered in over a week ago. I’d
waited a few days before even opening it despite Jamie
seeming to be excited over the concept design. I knew I’d have
little say in what is approved for the posters and book cover
anyway. More than that, I knew I’d have no control over my
feelings once I saw Corbin’s face.
And when I opened the box and stared at the beautiful
couple embracing each other in a mixture of orange and
yellow hues, I didn’t know what to do. I cried. I yelled. I
slammed the box down on the kitchen counter and walked
away from Corbin Callum’s pretty face.
Not because it isn’t perfect, but because it is. Olivia’s
confliction. Corbin’s determination. The way they fit together
is exactly how I pictured them. And it hurts because I can’t
picture myself saddled next to Corbin the way she is—the way
Lena is in the pictures that surface of them amongst the images
of us.
And I know the reason why is because the media have
made me out to be the lesser choice. Why would Corbin go for
somebody like me when he has an international supermodel as
a wife? She’s beautiful in all the ways that count. I see what
outlets say about me and could wallpaper an entire room with
their descriptions.
Plain.
Dull.
Poor.
Unworthy.
Wholly unimpressive.
It feels like high school round two where the mean girls
burn me with their opinions that I cared about too much. But
it’s worse than that because I’m on blast for the world to see.
And knowing that those girls who told me I’d be nothing are
probably reading every comment makes each and every word
become branded on my skin for life.
Startled when my phone buzzes, I force my gaze away
from the posters and stare at my brother’s incoming text
message.
Gavin: I swear to Jesus if you don’t pick up the fucking
phone I’m coming to your house.
Eyes widening as I palm my stomach, I pick up my cell to
dial his number. The last thing he needs is to see me like this.
He picks up on the first ring, cursing me out before saying hi. I
wince and sink into my chair, letting the magazine on my lap
fall to the floor.
“I thought that’d get your attention,” he grumbles coolly.
“Please don’t say anything. I—”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Gavin—”
“Mom and Dad have been trying to reach you for weeks,
asshole.” My teeth sink into my bottom lip. “You don’t answer
our texts, phone calls, Facebook messages—”
“I’ve been avoiding Facebook,” I explain quickly, rushing
to give him a little comfort. “I’m sorry, Gavin. I really am. But
… things have been tough for me and you all promised to give
me time. I haven’t had the energy to explain anything.”
He doesn’t relent. “Times up, Kinley. I’m not dealing with
the bullshit I keep hearing, seeing, or reading about. I see your
name everywhere next to his and I go mad. If one more person
brings up the shit being said about you, I’m going to jail for
assault. Now tell me what the hell happened.”
I don’t answer. If there’s one person who sees right
through me, it’s my brother. He knows when I’m lying, when
I’m hurt, and when I’m struggling to cope. But if I tell him
what’s happened, he’ll just tell me he was right all along.
That’s the last thing I need to hear right now.
“I need…” I clear my throat. “I just need you to know that
everything will be okay. I’m handling it.”
“You’re handling it?” he scoffs. Something crashes in the
background as he says something away from the receiver.
“What is it that you’re handling exactly and why are you
keeping us out of it? We can help.”
But they can’t. I know my family. They’re hard-headed
and stubborn just like me. They won’t accept that there’s
nothing to be done and will try figuring out something to do
despite my insistence otherwise. Their involvement will only
feed a fire that has grown out of control already.
 Knowing I can’t keep evading his questions, I do my best
to give him what he wants without feeling like it’s tearing me
apart. I fail though because shards of invisible glass cut into
my skin with every second I hold back the truth. “Do you want
me to tell you I screwed up, Gavin?”
He remains silent.
I take a deep breath. “Would it make you feel better to
know that you were right this entire time? Congratulations, big
brother. Every single warning you gave me since you
suspected something was going on with Corbin back in high
school came true. He left. He broke me. I tried to move on and
failed. And then we…” He makes a noise when I pause. “And
then I fell back into old habits. Happy now?”
But I know Gavin. He’s not happy. How could he be? He’s
one of the few people who made it seem like what I do is
impressive. His wife tells me that he brags to people about my
books when he’s out, not that he ever admits it.
His laugh is dry. “He’s married.”
“You don’t think I know that?” My voice breaks as tears
cling to my eyes. “I’m sure you think that I’m stupid. I think I
am too. But whether either of us likes it or not, I made a bad
decision because I was never really over him.”
I keep telling myself that there’s no such thing as a failed
relationship because each one has a lesson to teach. But what
has Corbin taught me other than how to be cautious?
“What about Parker?”
Somehow I manage to roll my eyes. I ask myself about my
ex-fiancé all the time. “You mean the man who ended our
engagement right before the wedding? He knew that I wasn’t
in it like I should have been and was smart enough to bow out
before it was too late.”
My eyes widen. He’s my Ian.
Subconsciously I’ve always known. Maybe I even played
into the role of Beck when I agreed to go out with him the first
time. The biggest difference is that the character I wrote Ian to
be was compassionate enough to let Beck be with the man she
really loved. That kind of response is fictional—a fantasy that
we want to believe in, so our actions make us less like a bad
guy and more humane.
But I was the bad guy to Parker. From the day I met him at
Jamie’s office when I was seventeen, our fate was sealed.
Whether I admitted it or not, I chose somebody other than him
no matter how hard I tried making it work. He was simply the
man I settled with to lessen the likelihood of getting hurt
again. And while I loved Parker Jennings in a lot of ways, I
loved Corbin Callum more.
To my surprise, Gavin’s voice isn’t as jagged when he
speaks again. “It’s been years, Kinley. You can’t honestly tell
me that you’re not over him.”
“Maybe I’m not supposed to be.”
“He moved on,” he points out gingerly.
My lips tremble. “But did he?”
He sighs heavily, grumbling under his breath. “I saw this
coming from a mile away, but you’re too stubborn to listen.
Why do you put yourself in these situations?”
I rub the side of my face, feeling a headache form in my
temples. “Please don’t do this right now.”
“Then what am I supposed to say?” he doubts, irritation
evident in his words.
“That it’ll be okay.”
“Someday,” he agrees. “Someday people can move on
from this, but you’re a public figure. How many times have
you told me that since you started making a name for yourself?
Since you got a fanbase? People watch what you do, and they
definitely watch him. The two of you…” A string of curse
words flies from his mouth. “The two of you doing something
as stupid as rekindling some flame that died years ago was
reckless. What did you think would happen?”
The burn in my chest intensifies. My hand goes to my
stomach. “I don’t know. I guess we were trapped in our own
little world for a while.”
 “I love you, Kin.” His sincerity gives me a little hope, but I
know it’s only a microscopic step for us. “I just wish you
would have listened to me back then so this could have been
avoided.”
“I wouldn’t even be here,” I remind him, knowing damn
well that he realizes who the book is about. He told me not to
bother giving Jamie the story when I admitted how much of
my past was tied to the plot. Mom told him it’d be good for me
to get my feelings on paper, but I don’t think she realized how
far I’d take it. Jamie encouraged me to write a story worth
telling, and I bled my soul onto each page of inked paper for
the world to pick apart.
Pulling the plug on the movie would have been easier, but
I don’t think it would have been worth it. I know having a
production as big as this one connected to my name will
increase the sales and be the best thing that’s happened to me.
But I also know that it can ruin me in a heartbeat since I
became the epitome of Beck.
I’m my own puppeteer pulling the strings.
And I got tangled.
I bite on my jagged nail, remembering something that
Corbin told me a while ago. “Hey, Gavin? Did you and Corbin
ever talk one on one? Like maybe after he left?”
The chances of him answering are slim since he probably
doesn’t want to discuss Corbin any more than I do. But I held
off asking when Corbin insisted because I was afraid of what
he’d say. I pretended like I didn’t care when it secretly ate at
the back of my mind. I wanted to live in a fantasy world with
Corbin without our bubble popping. But now? It imploded.
“What did he tell you?” he asks distantly.
I blink. “To ask you.” When Gavin doesn’t say anything, I
begin to sweat. “Gavin, what happened? He said he went back
to Lincoln to talk to me, but nobody said anything to me about
it. Wouldn’t I know?”
I hold my breath as my brother cusses again, leaving
prickles of worry needling the back of my head. “I was just
looking out for you.”
“What?” I swallow, feeling the possibilities dredge me
with fear.
“He’d been gone for a few months and there was some shit
online about him being with one of his co-stars during some
promotional tour for that movie you got him in,” he begins
reluctantly. “Honestly, the pictures seemed pretty believable.
Christ, he was holding her hand in one! It pissed me off, okay?
When I saw him at the gas station I lashed out. He had no right
coming back when he made a big deal out of leaving
everything behind.”
“He came back,” I repeat.
It’s not a question.
He came back.
He murmurs, “Yeah. He did.”
I shake my head at this information. Corbin told me as
much already, but I wasn’t sure I believed him. When he made
it sound like everyone in Lincoln knew about it, I thought it
was pettiness talking. He made it seem like they chose me
over him.
“What did you do?”
“Listen—”
“What the hell did you do, Gavin?” I growl, sitting
straighter. Penny jumps off the desk and scurries from the
room, and probably for the better.
“I hit him, okay?”
I draw back.
He doesn’t stop there. “He said he wanted to talk to you
and asked if you were home. It was one of the few days you
weren’t locked in your room on your fucking laptop typing
your goddamn memoir all about the asshole. Mom had texted
me saying you’d gone with Zach to some event out of town,
and I didn’t want Corbin messing that up. I knew if he found
out where you were, you’d just forgive him and pretend
you’ve been fine since he left.”
My eye twitches. “What. Did. You. Do?”
He blasts, “For fucks sake. I told him that it was too late
for him because you were with Zach. Are you happy now?”
My lips part as I suck in a sharp breath and hold it. I try
making excuses, like I misheard him somehow. Yet, I know
better. I heard him just fine, and a new form of hurt plows into
me.
Nostrils flaring, I grip the phone until my fingers hurt.
“How could you do that to me? You knew how much I loved
him! You said—”
“I was looking out for you!”
“You’re such a fucking asshole!” I yell, standing up and
tossing the box of posters off the desk until they scatter across
my office floor. “I cannot believe you’d do something so
selfish. Just because you got hurt by Aimee doesn’t mean
everyone else’s relationship is doomed!”
“That’s not fair.”
A dry laugh bursts from my lips. “What isn’t fair is you
deciding what’s best for me. Do you know that we could have
had a chance if you didn’t meddle? You probably don’t even
care that you screwed everything up, do you?”
“No, okay? I don’t feel bad.”
I throw my free hand up. “I don’t even want to talk to you
right now. You have no idea what you did.”
“What I did? I helped—”
“I’m pregnant, Gavin.”
Complete silence.
Sniffing back big, fat ugly tears, I force myself to add,
“You’re no different than him, you know. Why do you guys
think it’s okay to make choices for other people? I’ve always
had a right to decide what’s best for me, and you took that
away until I crumbled. Big brothers aren’t supposed to do
that.”
“Kinley…” He sounds as broken as I am.
“I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”
“Kinley, stop. Are you really—”
I hang up on him.
He calls again.
We repeat that twice more before I do what I’ve only ever
done with Corbin. I block his number and look down at the
silver eyes staring back at me from the ground.
I kneel and pick up one of the fallen posters, noticing the
damage inflicted from throwing the box down. It’s almost
symbolic that there’s a wrinkle splitting Corbin and Olivia. My
thumb caresses the blemish as I rest on my knees, staring at
the posters everywhere.
My phone buzzes beside me, causing me to glance down at
the news alert. I know I shouldn’t look, but I do. When I see
Lena Dasani’s name in bold lettering, I let the poster fall from
the others.
Lena Dasani speaks out amidst rumors of husband’s
infidelity.
I tell myself not to click it.
My thumb doesn’t listen.
“My husband and I have been married for years and we
don’t plan on letting these silly rumors ruin the love we have
for each other. I wish Kinley Thomas all the best, but even she
knows that there’s nothing between them regardless of the time
they spent together doing the movie.”
Teeth grinding, I power off my phone.
Was Corbin lying this whole time?
 CHAPTER FIVE

C ORBIN / Present

I STARE at the millionth undelivered email and toss the cell on

the table before palming my eyelids. The empty room is about
to fill with people in suits who annoy the hell out of me, so I
try pushing my personal life to the side to save face.
Thankfully half the people I encounter during meetings like
this don’t give a shit about my personal life, just the money I
line their pockets with.
It’s probably for the better considering I’m two seconds
from wringing my wife’s neck. The stunt she pulled releasing
a statement to the press about our supposed love-filled
marriage boils my blood. She all but claimed her territory
publicly to get the point across as if the statement Eddie made
—without my consent—didn’t do a good enough job. She
wasn’t just targeting the general population when she made it.
She wanted Kinley to see.
I knew better than to ask her not to say anything about the
situation with Kinley because it was unfair, but even she
knows that feeding the press with bullshit like this only makes
it worse. But Lena doesn’t care about anyone other than
herself and I see that now more than ever.
When the conference room door opens, I’m leaning back
in the chair with my arms resting across my chest. Men and
women alike file in and take their seats around the polished
oak, greeting me with fake smiles and enthusiasm. It’s always
the same painted expressions throughout the hour of droning
about business, meetings, and appearances.
“Callum,” Eddie Mansfield greets, closing the door behind
him and taking the seat at the end per usual.
Eddie has been my manager for almost four years now. My
first one got arrested for embezzling money from his clients,
taking over ten million combined. Needless to say, my agent
helped me find someone with a clean reputation. When he
suggested Mansfield I’d been cautious, but he doesn’t beat
around the bush and gets the job done without screwing me
over.
“Let’s get down to it.” He slides paperwork in my
direction. Catching it before it falls off the edge of the table, I
study the schedule packed full of dates. “The promotional tour
for this movie is going to take about four months to complete.
You’ll start in the new year and end right before the film
comes out in May. As you can see, there are talk show
interviews spread out throughout the first two months. You’ll
hit major networks first, then work your way into different
social media channels to film question and answers both
individually and with cast.”
My eyes trail down the list of places and dates, only half
listening as he rambles on about the type of shit I’ve heard
hundreds of times. I know the drill. Talk up the movie, play
nice with cast mates, and get seen in public with fans. If it’s
anything like my last project, I’ll do live interviews, make
random appearances where the target audiences will most
likely be, and do some fun events for YouTube movie bloggers
that have a huge following.
When I see appearances with the cast and film crew, I
scour for a different name. “When will we be doing interviews
with Kinley?”
The room grows eerily quiet.
I glance up at my manager, who’s shifting in his chair. He
clears his throat and leans forward, resting his arms on the
table. “We feel it’s best if you two do separate interviews for
the tour.”
 My head cocks. “What about the question and answer
segments scheduled at some of these locations? The audiences
will want to know things from her that we can’t answer.”
A newer woman I don’t know the name to speaks up.
“We’ve spoken to Ms. Thomas’s representation, and they also
think it’s a good idea to keep the focus on the actors who
brought the film to life.”
“That’s bullshit.” She flinches back. “We wouldn’t even
have a film if not for her. Who told you that?”
“Sir—”
“Corbin,” Eddie cuts off. “With the amount of press you
two are getting from the media right now, it’s best to let things
cool off. I can confirm that she’ll be at the red-carpet event for
the screening premiere in Los Angeles and do an after-
screening Q&A panel.”
I level with him. “You always tell me that any press is
good press. Half of the articles circulating are in tabloids
everyone knows is made up bullshit.”
“And the other half?”
Pressing my lips together, I lean back in the chair and stare
back down at the tour schedule. It wouldn’t be right to do this
without Kinley. It’s one thing to conduct a few interviews with
cast only, but another to not give credit where it’s due.
Kinley and I always used to say we’d support each other.
How many times have we planned formal events? Award
shows? This is our fucking moment and they’re telling me she
won’t be a part of it when she’s the one who made this happen.
I tap the paper. “I want to talk to her.”
“Her agent—”
“I want to talk to Kinley,” I repeat, looking each person in
the eye until they inevitably drop my gaze.
Eddie is the only one with balls enough to hold the stare.
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, son. Her agent informed us
that she’s letting them handle all communication. From what I
could gather, it’s been rough for her since the first article
released. Her email, social media pages, you name it are all
under somebody else’s control until things simmer down.”
Eyes widening, I grab my phone. “Rough how exactly?”
“You know how loyal fans can be,” is all he says, making
me wary of what’s been happening under my nose. I look at
my professional pages but don’t run them, and oftentimes
don’t look at anyone else’s. Her personal page has been set to
private since she left California and I haven’t bothered sending
her a friend request to reach out because I didn’t think she’d
accept.
Scrolling through her business page, my eye twitches. For
the most part everything looks clean. My bet is that whoever
took it over for her keeps the comments regulated. But there
are still some that pop up calling Kinley degrading things in
my defense.
I wave my phone in the air. “Were any of you going to tell
me about this?”
Somebody across the table intervenes cautiously. “All due
respect, Mr. Callum, but we don’t represent her. I’m sure her
people are handling the situation just fine.”
I smack the phone down onto the table harder than I
intend. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but my name is
being used to bring somebody else down. Someone, might I
add, who doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment. Shouldn’t my
reputation be your concern?”
Nobody says anything.
I turn back to Eddie. “I’ll say it again. I want to talk to
Kinley. Now.”
He scrubs a palm down his face and rolls his shoulders
back. “Think about this before you make an irrational
decision. Do you truly think that reaching out to her is in her
best interest?”
I scoff. “Do you even care about her best interest? It seems
like you don’t.”
“Frankly, I’m not paid to care.”
 Nostrils flaring, I know he’s not wrong. It doesn’t stop me
from wanting to fight for her. She’s strong and can speak for
herself, but I’m just as much to blame for this shitshow as her.
She doesn’t need to go about it alone, especially not when
Lena has become involved.
“I’m not being irrational.”
He straightens his spine, giving me his typical I know best
look. “The last thing you need is press surrounding your
personal life right now. You told me that you wanted privacy
until things between you and Lena are figured out. If word
gets out that you’re reaching out to another woman while
married to someone else—”
“Soon to be divorced,” I remind him.
“Until she signs those papers we got drawn up, you better
get a different perspective,” he states firmly. “I know you may
find this hard to believe, but the world doesn’t give a flying
fuck if you’re separated or not. Legally, you’re married. The
press is already set on believing that you cheated whether it’s
true or not. I’m here to make sure you don’t ruin your
reputation.”
“Isn’t my reputation already shit?”
He eyes me. “I’m not your father—”
I bite out, “Then stop calling me son.”
“I’m just here to do what I was hired for,” he tells me
blandly. “That means you’re going to sit down, shut up, and
listen to what I’m about to say. Understand?”
My jaw ticks.
“Good.” He leans back. “The movie trailer is set to release
on New Year’s Day. I’ve already spoken to Buchannan and a
few others who informed me the love triangle will be clearly
represented. Those who read the book knows there’s cheating,
and those who haven’t will see it for themselves come January
first.”
Shoulders tightening, I begin piecing together his point.
“You want me to act like this is a promotional stunt for the
movie to garner attention.”
Quiet murmurs of praise sound around the room. I drown
them out and watch Eddie shrug like it’s a simple plan. People
know the ins and outs of promotion though. It’s no different
than proposing leading co-stars date, which I’ve found myself
forced into doing before I got married. That only works in
certain situations. It’s a stretch to think it would be successful
here.
“All I’m asking is that you keep to yourself and let me do
my job. Let the people believe what they want and don’t feed
into it.” He gives me a knowing look. “That means staying
away from Kinley Thomas, especially while you’re still
married to Lena. I don’t give a damn what you do with your
life after the divorce is finalized, just hold off on making rash
decisions until then.”
And when will that be?
Lena and I talked in detail about going through with the
separation a long time ago. Neither one of us loves each other
like we used to, and even that love has been partial at best.
When I visited her in Greece, our plan was rehearsed. We’d
tell her parents that we were separating. Her father would
rejoice. Her mother would curse me out. Her cousins would
comfort her.
I was willing to be the bad guy.
For her.
For me.
For us.
But Lena changed her tune. She’s had the paperwork for
well over four months now and keeps dragging it out without
telling me why. Every time we meet to go over it, she puts on
a show for the cameras who follow us like there’s nothing
wrong.
“You care about her?” he asks.
He doesn’t say who.
He doesn’t have to.
 I simply say, “Don’t waste my time with stupid questions,
Eddie. You’re better than that.”
The room watches us intently.
When Eddie laughs, the atmosphere lightens. It’s no
surprise that people are intimidated by him. Not me. “Then do
what’s best for her, son.”
Playing unfairly is what he’s known to do to get what he
wants. The son of bitch knows what he’s talking about. I rarely
go against his wishes because he gets results. He gets me
money, which in turn gets him paid too.
He’s just not getting his way this time.
 CHAPTER SIX

K INLEY / 17

T HE LIGHT BLUE chiffon dress flows against my shins as I walk

down the steps. When my feet hit the banister at the end of the
staircase, I inhale before rounding the corner.
Dad sees me first, lips wavering before giving me a nod of
appraisal. “You look beautiful, kid.”
Blushing, I flatten the material.
Gavin walks in and shrugs after giving me a quick once
over. “You look all right. Better than the usual hobo vibe you
give off.”
I roll my eyes. “Dweeb.”
“Dickwad.”
Mom comes in with a camera, making me groan. “Be nice
to your sister. Now, come on. I want photos of you three
together.”
Gavin shakes his head. “I don’t do—”
“You’ll be in the picture,” Dad states firmly, pulling him
toward us.
Gavin and I both sigh and relent while Mom positions us
for photos. After a few with the three of us, Gavin takes over
to get some with me and our parents.
 “You guys are going to make me late,” I mutter through
my smile. After another ten, I flip off my brother and step
away from my parents.
It’s Gavin who says, “Why isn’t your boyfriend picking
you up again? Isn’t that how these things work?”
I slide into my black ballet flats and eye him while Dad
gets my coat. “I don’t know, Gavin. Remind me again how
you did it?”
He glares at me and picks up the popcorn he was snacking
on. Dad chuckles as he helps me into the sleeves of my jacket.
“She’s got you there, son.”
“Just because I never went—”
“Which means you can’t judge,” I add.
“—doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
I button my coat and cross my arms over my chest. “I love
you but you’re annoying me right now. Corbin wanted to pick
me up, but I told him I’d meet him there. Stop being stupid.”
“But—”
Mom cuts him off, swatting him away to the living room.
“Your sister wants to surprise him, Corbin. There’s nothing
wrong with that.”
I nibble my lip. “Thanks.”
Dad offers me his arm. “Ready?”
It took him a while to be okay with me dating, especially
when Gavin expressed his dislike over Corbin. But since Mom
met him and his family in town, she told them to leave me
alone. Despite her support, I can’t help but feel like she feels
the same way Gavin does. I don’t talk to any of them about
Corbin and they don’t ask. I should be glad, but something
tugs on my chest telling me that I need their opinions on how
to make things work.
I just don’t think they’d offer me the kind of advice that
I’m looking for. It’s not that I want them to tell me what I want
to hear, but I’d like an honest opinion, not biased.
 When Dad rolls up to the curb of the large brick building
the winter formal is being held at in the center of town, I stare
at the white twinkling lights lining the rails and door out front.
A black carpet is placed over the steep steps, and the double
doors have snowflakes and flowers hung on them.
“Want me to walk you in?” He’s already turned off the car
and unbuckled, so I just smile and nod at him.
Gavin used to tease me for being a daddy’s girl, but I never
cared. My father is six-three with muscles he earned from a lot
of physical labor over the years. People have compared him to
a biker, but I know the truth. He’s a giant teddy bear who’s
protective of me. As embarrassing as it can be when he shoots
scathing glares at Corbin when the two see each other, I love
him.
Dad escorts me into the building, leading me down the
dimly lit hallway toward the loud voices and music. Anxiety
greets me with every step, but it all disappears when Corbin
appears at the end of the hall in a black tux and light blue tie
that matches my dress. Everything fits him perfectly, tapered
and cut to fit his tall, lean figure. Dad tightens his grip on my
arm as I suck in a breath and study Corbin from head to toe.
When we get closer, I notice Corbin is holding something
in his hands. Stopping just in front of him, Dad leans down
and kisses the top of my head.
He stands tall and stares at Corbin with narrow eyes. “I
expect your hands will stay to yourself, boy. Correct?”
“Dad!” I hiss, heat blossoming from the back of my neck
and settling into my cheeks.
Corbin’s eyes widen. “Yes, sir.”
Dad lets go of me with a chuckle, smiling before telling
me how beautiful I am again. A similar smile tugs across my
lips. I watch him leave after giving another warning glance
Corbin’s way.
When Dad disappears out the front door, Corbin steps
closer and brushes his hand down my arm. “Your dad is scary
but right. You look beautiful, Little Bird.”
 I nibble on my lip and gesture toward the box he’s holding.
“What’s in there?”
He perks up, fumbling to open it. “I know corsages are
usually a prom thing, but I got this made for you.”
When the top opens revealing what’s inside, my jaw drops.
“Corbin…”
He pulls out the blue origami bird. “I saw a woman in the
town over make custom corsages for formal events. When I
sent her pictures of the birds you made, she told me she could
make something that matches your dress.”
Eyes watering, I pick it up and examine it closely. There’s
something written on the paper in script. When I narrow my
eyes to try making out the letters, a hand reaches out and takes
it from me.
“It says fly with me.” His voice is quiet as he slides it over
my wrist. His thumb caresses the back of my hand as he lifts it
up to his mouth and peppers a chaste kiss on it.
“You’re a sap,” I accuse, wiping under my eyes to catch a
tear before it falls.
“You love it,” he teases, offering me his arm.
I hesitate, then wrap my elbow around his and let him
guide us toward the large ballroom. The truth bubbles inside
my chest. “I do,” I say in my quietest voice.
The song we walk in on is something techno that I’ve
never heard of. Corbin makes fun of me for my taste in
country music, but that’s all I grew up on. It’s no different than
his love for classic rock because it’s his father’s favorite. They
bond over Def Leopard and AC/DC, just like I bond with my
parents over Willie Nelson and Hank Williams Junior.
I giggle, causing him to look over with an amused smile on
his face. “What’s so funny?”
I lick my bottom lip. “I still have your AC/DC sweatshirt.
My brother gets annoyed when he sees me wear it around the
house.”
His smile transforms into a smirk. “It’s yours, Little Bird.”
 “I can give it—”
He waves me off. “Looks better on you.”
I lean into him and study the room. Peers dance in groups,
moving in ways that’d make my brother blush. Yelping when
Corbin spins me around, I catch myself on his chest and keep
my palms planted on him as he pulls me closer. One of his
arms hooks around my waist as he holds me there.
I laugh when we start slow dancing. “I don’t think we’re
doing this right.”
His brows arch. “Would you rather twerk like the rest of
them? Pretty sure that girl over there is about to throw her
back out.”
I full on laugh, causing a few people near us to glance
over. Hiding behind Corbin as he spins us, I move my hands to
his shoulders. “I think my father would have a heart attack if
he saw me dance like that.”
One girl starts moving down a guy’s body Dirty Dancing
style until a teacher stops them. My eyes widen as I dart them
away before they can see me watching.
Corbin glances at the same couple being scolded,
smirking. “Your dad would definitely have a heart attack if he
saw us doing that. Pretty sure he’d make you take a pregnancy
test.”
My eyes widen. “Don’t say that!”
A laugh bellows out of him. “What? You do know that
someday he’ll have to accept that you have sex.”
I blanch. “He probably thinks I’ll be a virgin forever. One
time he made a comment about how I didn’t have enough
clothes on when we went to the county fair. I was wearing
bootcut jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, Corbin! I can’t even
imagine having to tell him that I’m having sex much less
pregnant someday.”
Humor dances in his eyes. “He’ll love you even when you
tell him. If you even want that sort of life anyway.”
 Now I look at him in confusion. “Why do you say it like
that? You don’t want a family someday? I’m not asking like I
expect us to…” My entire body heats as the song changes into
something slower.
He holds me closer, locking one hand on my hip and the
other on one of my palms. “I haven’t really thought about it.
You and I are both career-driven anyway. Can you really
picture a life with babies and a white picket fence? It just
doesn’t seem like us.”
I gnaw on the inside of my cheek and shrug, not really sure
what to say. It isn’t like I’ve thought about our future in depth,
but it makes me wonder if I should. If he doesn’t want kids
and I do, then where does that leave us after we graduate? Five
years from now?
“We’re too young to think about this,” he adds, which
breaks me from my thoughts. He’s right. Neither one of us are
ready for that kind of commitment. I can’t help but wonder if
we ever will be though.
Brushing it off, I nod. “Still think my father would try to
shoot you.”
Corbin cringes. “Does he really own a gun?” I don’t
confirm or deny anything, leaving a nervous look in his eyes.
He blows out a breath. “I’m determined to make your family
like me. Gavin might be hard to win over, but I’ll make it
happen.”
I deadpan. “He caught you in my bed. That isn’t going to
happen in this century.”
He frowns. “He’s protective of you, huh? Have to say, kind
of like that about him. But he doesn’t have to be when it
comes to us.”
The few conversations I’ve had with my brother about
Corbin and I have stayed between us. I’m afraid if I speak it to
anybody else, the possibility of his assumed tragic outcome
could come true. Doubt already lingers in the back of my
consciousness out of practicality. It doesn’t matter what I hope
will happen. It’s not just up to me.
 “Hey, Corbin?” I whisper, staring at the paper bird perched
on my wrist. “We’ll always fly together, right?”
His hands twitch. “Always.”
I close my eyes and rest my cheek on his shoulder, letting
the music fill the comfortable silence between us. Moments
like this are what build the fantasies in my journal,
immortalizing us no matter what happens.
Details of Corbin.
His warmth.
His touch.
Everything.
We’re Beck and Ryker.
And I love us.
 CHAPTER SEVEN

K INLEY / Present

I PULL the jacket tighter around my body as I walk down the

quiet street. The beginning of October brings cooler weather,
and my on-again-off-again clammy skin welcomes the subtle
breeze against it. The hot flashes during the summertime heat
made my discomfort tenfold and my doctor assured me I’d do
better once fall hit. Thankfully, he was right.
As I stuff my hands in my coat pockets, I look down and
note the fallen leaves on the ground. The various colors of
yellowing green make me realize the pretty foliage I love so
much will soon disappear. Studying my surroundings, I let out
a small sigh. When I arrived in California, all I wanted was to
come home. I hated the noise and busy streets and wanted
nothing more than seclusion. Now that I’m here, something
feels like it’s missing.
Lake Roe borders one of the largest lakes in our region. It
serves the summer tourists well with canoe races, barbecues,
and fireworks for the fourth of July. Outside of tourist season,
it’s much more peaceful. There are restaurants and stores in
walking distance instead of cow pastures and endless fields,
but it still has the rural atmosphere that I find comfort in like I
did in Lincoln. As much as I wanted to get out of that town, I
always felt like I couldn’t commit to the distance.
Maybe I always knew I’d wind up in this situation—
needing people in my corner. If I’d left the state like I thought
about, I’d have nobody. Then who would help me?
Gavin wouldn’t.
Blinking away the emotions that build in my eyes, I walk
into the nearest corner store that I frequent for snacks and
premade meals when my energy is too depleted. Browsing the
aisles for sugar, I grab a few candy bars and head to the
checkout.
The middle age woman working the register smiles at me
in familiarity. “I see you’re back for more. No Twizzlers again
today?”
Staring down at the various chocolate I chose, I give her a
lighthearted shrug. “Guess I’m not in the mood for them.”
She swipes them across the scanner and grabs a bag for
me. “I thought they were your writing fuel? Haven’t seen you
buy any in a couple months now.”
I haven’t been able to eat Twizzlers since I found out I was
pregnant. I’m just starting my second trimester and the smell
of my beloved candy still churns my stomach. My cupboard is
full of stale candy wasting away since I haven’t bothered
throwing it out. I haven’t been able to stomach much food
between stress and morning sickness, so I go with what I
crave. Unfortunately for me, that’s junk food that’s added on a
few more pounds than Dr. Ray likes.
“Switching things up a bit.” I give her a small smile and
pass her some cash as she gives me the plastic bag.
As she counts my change, she says, “I finally read your
book. I can see what the fuss is all about. What was it like?”
My brows raise. “What?”
She looks up and hands me the remaining change. “Being
with all those famous people? The boy they have leading is a
looker. I saw the pictures of you two.”
When she winks, it’s the last thing I expect. I slowly wrap
my fingers around the dollar bills and blink as a heaviness
settles in my chest. “Uh…”
 She chuckles. “I’m not going to judge you, darling. If I got
close to Johnny Depp I’d be trying to climb him like a tree. I
won’t fault you for getting a few good squeezes in.”
I choke on air. The few times I’ve engaged with people on
the topic, I denied the claims or walked away without
commenting. But I can’t find the words now because she says
it so casually. I’ve known Mel since I moved here. People
don’t get her eccentric personality, but I always liked it.
Thankfully, she changes the subject. “Are you working on
anything new? I’ve been talking to a few girls in my book club
and they’re planning on reading Through Shattered Glass
before the movie comes out.”
The best I can do is smile. “I’m taking my time with my
next book. Tell the girls I said thank you for the support. My
agent talked about doing a local screening party here before
the movie is officially released.”
Her eyes light up. “Will the entire cast be here? Perhaps
the handsome boy with those sexy eyes that you’ve caused a
stir with?”
My face heats. I wouldn’t call Corbin Callum a boy but
given the fact she’s probably in her early fifties, I can see why
she calls him that. “I don’t know, to be honest.”
She nods. “Well I’ll support you regardless if that hunk
comes here. But sign me up for a front row seat if he steps foot
anywhere near this place.”
For the first time in too long, I laugh. “I can do you one
better. I’ll send him to your store. He has a sweet tooth too.”
Her blue eyes light up. “Does he now?”
I gesture toward the magazine rack. “I haven’t thanked you
for what you did. I’m sure your boss wasn’t happy when those
copies disappeared out of the blue.”
When her shoulders lift, the playfulness in her eyes
increase. “Delivery must have gotten lost.” We share an
amused look. “I never liked how people were portrayed in
those silly things. It’s nobody else’s business what goes on
outside their own lives.”
 My fingers twitch around the handle of the bag I’m
holding. “You’re one of the few who believe that.” Sighing I
nod toward the door. “I should get going. Thanks again.”
“Enjoy the sugar, Kinley.”
Before I push the door open, she says, “I know you don’t
want to talk about it, but I’m here if you need me. Things can
be tough in the early stages, so know you’re not alone.”
My palm freezes against the door handle as I slowly turn to
her. Her smile is warm, genuine. It barely eases the fear from
the knowing look staring back at me.
“How…?”
She waves me off. “Have two of my own. Call it a sixth
sense. None of my business, but I just wanted to let you know
that I’m here if you need advice. Or if you have a craving the
store carries. Pickles were my choice after the sickness
stopped.”
I whisper, “Pickles?”
“And peanut butter.”
My nose scrunches. “Together?”
She laughs. “Darling, you’ve got a long way to go by the
looks of it. You’ll start wanting things you never thought
you’d like. Just wait.”
I blow out a breath. Great.

T HE FAMILIAR SIGHT of peppered dark hair greets me as I walk

toward my front door. Her hair is styled in a short ‘do that
rests just above her shoulders, highlighted with silver that the
sun emphasizes when she turns around. My feet slow as I
tighten my grip on the bag of candy.
“Hello, Kinley.”
I swallow my nerves. “Hi, Mom.”
My eyes go to the black car parked in my driveway behind
my own. When I meet Mom’s distant gaze, I know she knows.
It’s the way her lips twitch like she wants to say something but
can’t. She rarely holds back.
She silently moves out of the way for me to unlock the
door, then follows me inside. Since she knows where to put
her coat, I let her settle in while I drop my keys and food onto
the kitchen counter. Too afraid to take off my own jacket, I
stuff my hands in the pockets and walk over to where she
stands in between the foyer and living room.
Penny rubs against her shins, but she doesn’t pay her any
attention. Her eyes are on me until my soul feels the burn of
her unspoken words. Her gaze doesn’t even have to linger to
the midsection I hide under layers of clothing.
“How are you?”
She walks into the living room. “Don’t start with me,
Kinley Ann.” Cringing over the middle name, I follow her in.
She takes a seat on the couch and I sit in the chair next to it.
Drawing my legs onto the edge of the cushion to hide my
torso, I bite down on my thumbnail. “Where’s Dad?”
“At home.”
Her short replies mean I’m in big trouble, so I prepare
myself. “I know you’re upset, but I really need you not to be
right now.”
Her hard expression doesn’t change, leaving me sinking
back. “And what about what I need? Or your father? We’ve
been worried sick about you. Your brother—”
“Don’t.”
She throws her hands up, staring with hard eyes
unforgivingly at me. “Don’t what?”
“Whatever Gavin told you isn’t…” I lick my dry lips,
feeling them crack under the tip of my tongue. “I can explain,
okay? It’s not going to be easy to hear, but there’s a reason.”
Mom doesn’t answer, but doubt is displayed across her
face. “Then explain it to me because I don’t understand where
we went wrong. How many times have we told you to let go?
We didn’t tell you that because we wanted to control you. It
was to protect you.”
Protect you from this, is what she doesn’t add. It’s clearly
stated between the lines. Her gaze finally dips down to my
midsection.
“Tell me.”
My lips part, but only air comes out.
At the worst time possible, I think about Parker. What does
he think of me? Mom and Dad didn’t offer their opinions
about him like they didn’t with Corbin, but their hesitance
wasn’t as obvious. They’d ask me about Parker and seemed
happy to hear he was doing well. They liked him.
I bet he doesn’t like me very much.
Standing up, she paces a few times before turning to me
again. “We have tried to be supportive of your choices, but we
can’t keep standing around and watching you self-destruct
over somebody who isn’t worth it.”
I loosen the grip I have on my thumbnail, blinking at her as
I absorb the words. “You gave me a chance to bond with
somebody who understood what it was like to dream beyond
the town line. I needed Corbin back then.”
She rolls the same dark color eyes I get from her. “You
didn’t need him then, and you don’t need him now. Same for
Parker. You’ve always been stronger than that and Corbin
poisoned your mindset. He’s not a good—”
“I’m not a good person,” I cut her off, dropping my feet
onto the floor. “You can call him names and put all the blame
on him, but you don’t see both sides. You want to take mine
because it’s in your nature to. But I fucked up, Mom. And I
don’t want to be in this position, but I have no other choice.”
“You could have chosen differently.”
I stand, shaking my head and walking into the kitchen.
Reaching for the bag of candy, I tear open one of the chocolate
bars. “Are we really going to play that game? There’s a lot of
things that could have been different. Corbin could have
moved anywhere, but he came to Lincoln. The principal could
have asked someone in his own grade to show him around, but
he chose me. Gavin could have walked away when Corbin
came back, but he opened his big mouth. And you know what
else? I could have married Parker, but we weren’t right for
each other. Are we going to stand here and go back and forth
about what could have happened like that makes a
difference?”
Breaking apart a chocolate square, I shove it into my
mouth and wait for her to say something. When she leans
against the counter and shakes her head, I know she isn’t
going to. She’s learned by now that I won’t hear her out when
I’ve made up my mind.
Just like her.
I lean my hip against the counter. “I don’t want to talk
about this if we’re just going to fight. That won’t lead us
anywhere.”
Quietly, she finally asks, “What do you want then, Kinley?
Because I’ve stopped understanding what that is a long time
ago.”
“Right now?” I shrug. “I want my mom.”
Her hands rest on the edge of the island, her body leaning
forward. “I’m right here. You just need to talk to me. Why
don’t you ever talk to me about these things before you act?”
Clicking my tongue, I meet her sullen expression. “We
never had that kind of relationship. You and Dad never
understood how much writing meant to me, but Corbin did.
And even though you guys let me go to New York City and
meet Jamie and let her represent me, there was always a
disconnect. Writing and Corbin have always been two things
that meant so much to me that I wish I could have talked
about, but it never felt right to do.”
The hurt weighing down her lips has my shoulders
dropping. “I don’t know what I did to make you think you
couldn’t talk to me. I’ve always done my best to let you have
control over your life, especially with Corbin.”
 “I know—”
“Do you, Kinley?” She backs up and looks around the
house, gesturing around with her hands. “We’re so proud of
everything you’ve accomplished. You’re young and successful
and somebody any parent would be proud to call their child.
I’m sorry if we didn’t show that.”
I brush hair out of my face and sigh knowing this is going
nowhere. “I’m not saying you don’t care or that you’re not
proud.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I don’t want to tell you everything!” I blurt, clenching my
fists by my sides. “I like keeping things to myself. It’s easier
that way. Some parents have the type of relationships with
their kids that are open. Anything is on the table with them.
Admit it, Mom. That has never been us.”
“Your brother and—”
“Don’t bring him into this,” I cut her off, pulling out a
stool from under the breakfast counter and sitting down. “The
reason it’s different between you guys is because you have
common interests.”
She doesn’t have an answer.
“I’m not mad.” I break off another piece of chocolate and
stare at it. “Maybe I used to be but I’m not anymore. It gives
me a chance to do my own thing and be proud of my
accomplishments.”
Before I can say anything else, my phone begins ringing in
my back pocket. Putting my candy down, I pull out my cell
and glance at the unknown number. Promptly, I ignore it.
Mom’s brows arch as she gestures toward the device. “Not
going to answer that?”
Considering I’m sure it’s Gavin using a new number to
reach out to me, that’s a firm negative. “No. I don’t want to
talk to Gavin. He knows what he did is messed up.”
She levels with me. “You’ve both made choices that
weren’t right. Are you going to blame him forever? He’s your
brother.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It—” The same number pops up again.
Mom pushes the phone to me. “Just answer it, Kinley. Is it
really worth ruining your relationship with him over?”
“Please stop making light of this.”
She just points to the phone.
Reluctantly, I answer to stall from the conversation
between us that’s sinking faster than the Titanic. “Gavin, I’m
not in the—”
“Please don’t hang up,” a different gravelly tone pleads.
My eyes widen as I push up. “How did you get this
number?”
“I need to know you’re okay.”
Mom eyes me curiously.
“Corbin, I—”
Mom shakes her head and walks out of the kitchen with
her hands up in surrender. The sound of the closet door
opening and jacket rustling against the others has me
following her into the foyer. “I will not condone this behavior,
Kinley. You are a grown a woman and should know better than
this.”
“Mom, stop. Please?”
Corbin clears his throat. “Is now—”
“I can’t do this right now, Corbin. You couldn’t have
chosen a worse possible time to check in on me. The answer is
no. I’m not okay. If that’s all, then bye.” My voice breaks as I
hang up on him. The burning feeling of rising tears stings my
eyes. “Mom, would you stop? You just got here.”
She zips her jacket and grabs her shoes, sliding into them
before even looking in my direction again. “I was hoping to
talk some sense into you and figure out what you’re going to
do. But if you’re going to let him into your life like he isn’t
wearing somebody else’s ring, I won’t stand by and see you
get hurt again.”
I try reasoning with her as she pulls her car keys out of her
pocket. “I don’t even know how he got my number. I wasn’t
lying when I said I needed space from everybody. Him
especially. And don’t you think something I should figure out
is how he fits into this?”
“It depends on how you want him to.”
Her distain isn’t lost on me. If anything, it only feeds into
the distance I’ve put between her and I. “Like you said, I’m a
grown woman. I can make my own choices whether you agree
with them or not. Just like I did with Corbin, college, and
Parker.”
She walks to the door. “I wish I would have stopped this
from happening. I thought it was a good thing to see you
focused on something other than your writing back then. You
needed to act your age and have fun. If I had known this is
where you’d end up, I would have pulled the plug on it a long
time ago.”
I stand still, not bothering to stop her as she opens the
door. “You act like my life is over. There are worse things that
could have happened, Mom.”
How many times have I told myself that in the past three
months? It’s the only reason I’ve pushed through. People go
through horrible situations that don’t even compare to mine.
Mom purses her lips. “You’re pregnant with a married
man’s baby. A man who didn’t choose you, Kinley. I’m sorry
if that’s hard to hear, but you need to hear it. It doesn’t matter
what your brother said to him. He should have looked past it
and worked through it with you if it meant that much to him.
I’m glad it’s not worse, but that doesn’t mean it’s not nothing.”
With that, she closes the door behind her. All I can do is
stand there with my palm against my stomach and close my
eyes.
I count to three.
And walk away.
 CHAPTER EIGHT

C ORBIN / Present

B OUNCING the heel of my foot against the ground, I stare

between my cell phone screen and the clock hanging on the
living room wall. The front door opens as I pick up the phone
to redial her, stopping me by glancing up. The impatient
expression on my face doesn’t mirror the casual nature of hers.
I stand. “Where the hell have you been?”
Lena waltzes in with her oversized designer bag draped
over her arm and the matching sunglasses still covering her
eyes. She takes them off and gives me a sultry smile, clipping
them on the collar of her tight black tee shirt.
“I’m only a few minutes late,” is her reply, walking over to
me in jeans that are painted on. She’s been wearing tighter
clothes since I told her I wanted to go through with the
divorce. Tighter, more revealing, and undoubtedly eye
catching when she asks to meet me out. It never fails that
someone with a camera is there to capture each fucking
moment.
“Forty minutes isn’t a few.”
She shrugs and sits down beside me. “I was on the phone
with my mother. What did you want me to do? Hang up on
her?”
“Tell her you’re busy,” I grind out. Putting my face in my
hands, I stifle a groan over the same conversation. “How many
times are we going to put this off? The papers were drawn up a
long time ago. We both want this.”
“What if we don’t?” She reaches for my hand and squeezes
it. “We used to be good for each other. Don’t you remember?”
I sit back and blink slowly. Once upon a time we were
inseparable. Everyone joked that the honeymoon phase would
wear off and neither of us believed them. It’s why we jumped
into marriage so quickly—six months quick. We’d been
consumed by what we felt and acted on it like it’d last
because, for once, it didn’t feel like there was only one person
for me.
But that isn’t how I feel anymore. That feeling was a mask
to hide the inevitable beneath it that would eventually lead us
here. Yet another cycle that all leads back to Kinley.
“You don’t mean that,” I answer. “And while we’re on the
topic of things you don’t mean, you had no right telling the
media what you did about us. We can’t keep pretending, Lena.
Think about this.”
Her lips twitch downward as she draws back. “I know we
agreed to this, but I think we could work it out. What if we
tried counseling? We’ve never discussed that and I’m sure it’d
be suggested if we proceed with the papers.”
“Lena.” I push away from the table and run a hand through
my hair. “Where is this coming from? When we spoke about
this you agreed it was for the best. I know you’re nervous
about your parents, but—”
She frowns, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. There’s a
disconnect that I can’t figure out. “I love you. Is that so hard to
believe?”
Yes.
I slide the papers toward her. “I love you too, but we both
know it’s not the kind that warrants this marriage to continue.
Counseling won’t help us. It’ll just be a waste of time and
money. What happened to the woman who held my hand and
told me she was sorry for not feeling the same as we did when
we first met? New feelings don’t just grow out of nowhere.”
 Her nostrils flare as she stares at the paperwork. It’s not the
first time she’s seen them, but her anger displayed so openly
toward the documents is certainly new.
“Why do you want this?” she asks, one perfectly sculpted
eyebrow raising.
“Because you deserve better.”
“And why is that?”
“Lena, come on.”
She crosses her arms, pushing her breasts up and making
me look away. “You used to look at me like you couldn’t
believe I was real. I felt cherished. Loved. Maybe not in the
way I should have been, but it was enough. Then you got this
movie deal, and everything changed.”
I try stopping her before her thoughts stray too far. “Things
have been strained for us for a lot longer than when I accepted
this role. You know that, Len. How long have we been beating
around the bush? I’m tired of it. You were tired of it too.”
She laughs coolly. “So Kinley Thomas has nothing to do
with why you want a divorce? It’s all coincidental that you’re
asking for it now that you two have rekindled?”
Eyes widening at her brass statement, I study her for a
moment before collecting my thoughts. “How do you know
about…?”
Her eyes roll. “Don’t act like you haven’t done your
homework on me. We both have a past with people that we
knew little about. I just dug into yours because I realized your
past wasn’t just in the past. Honestly, I would have preferred
you slept with Olivia. At least I knew it would have been a
fling instead of something complicated like this.”
My fists tighten on my lap. “Are you kidding me right
now? I gave you privacy because I trust you. So, no. I’m not
acting for once in my goddam life. If you wanted to know
something about me, you could have just asked without going
behind my back. And really? You honestly wish I slept with
somebody else? I can’t be the only one who hears how
ridiculous this conversation is.”
 She leans forward. “Would you have answered if I asked?
Be honest with yourself. That’s one thing you’ve never been
good at being.”
I scoff and walk into the kitchen for a beer from the fridge.
Taking a moment to collect myself, I crack the lid and grab a
bottle of water for her before joining her back at the table.
“I’m not saying that I don’t have my fair share of issues. I just
want what’s best for us, and that’s not keeping this charade
up.”
“Charade,” she repeats, murmuring in Greek. Yet another
reason we don’t work. Shouldn’t I have picked up the
language? Learned a thing or two? I don’t know what her or
her family says unless she translates.
I take a swig of my drink and set it down, meeting her
distant gaze. “Have you read the book that the movie is based
on?”
“Why would I do that?”
I lean back. “Because you’ll see why I took the role. The
story is one a lot of people can resonate with. I’m connected to
it. Not just because I knew Kinley in the past, but because I
know the characters. Ryker…” I lift my shoulders and play
with my beer bottle. “He’s the kind of role that I’ll be proud of
for the rest of my life because he represents the kind of man I
want to be. If you read the book, maybe you’ll understand
what I can’t seem to put to words.”
The tip of her tongue swipes slowly across her bottom lip.
“Let me get this straight. You want me to read your ex-
girlfriend’s novel?”
“It’s not—”
“You’ve lost it, Callum.”
I gesture to her with my hand. “That. Why do you insist on
calling me by my last name instead of my first? If anyone
should call me Corbin, it’s my fucking wife.”
“Don’t be so dramatic.” She opens the bottle of water I
gave her. “The name just suits you. Are you seriously angry
over something so silly?”
 “And what about you?”
She just blinks.
I grip the beer. “Why didn’t you take the name when we
got married if you like it so much? You insisted on keeping
yours and I respected that.”
“People know me as Lena Dasani.”
Seeing that we’re going nowhere with this, I tap the
paperwork. “This needs to happen. It’s about you and me and
nobody else. We don’t love each other, Lena. We don’t even
share the same last name after all this time. We spend more
time apart than together, and half the time we’re arguing over
why that is.”
She leans back in her chair after crossing one leg over the
other. “Don’t lie to me like you lie to yourself, Corbin. This
has everything to do with somebody else.”
“Don’t bring her—”
She unzips her bag and pulls something out of it, dropping
a large yellow envelope on the table in front of me. Hesitantly
taking it, I reach inside and pull out pictures. Pictures of me.
Pictures of Kinley. Pictures of us together.
I go through one by one, jaw ticking over what I’m seeing.
My eyes dart up, lips parted, as I lock my gaze with her
victorious smirk. She looks vindictive. It gives me pause for a
moment, wondering what exactly I ever saw in her. I come up
blank. “What the hell are these, Lena?”
She scoffs. “Don’t be stupid.”
Glancing back down at a picture of Kinley walking into
my trailer on set, my eye twitches. Fingers clenching around
the image, I say, “I don’t know who you are anymore.”
Her chair scrapes back as she stands, grabbing the bottle of
water. “You know how much my reputation means to me. It’s
why we’ve managed to make this work for so long. I will not
be made a fool of because of your actions.”
“What do you want from me?” I growl, staring at the
stranger standing there. Her pride is hurt, and she wants to
punish me. I get it. That doesn’t mean I understand what her
endgame is.
She unclips her sunglasses from her shirt and slides them
on. Her lips form the fakest smile I’ve ever seen, and I wonder
how many times she’s flashed me it without me even realizing.
“You can’t give me what I want anymore. But perhaps we can
come to an agreement.”
An agreement?
“What are you talking about?”
She positions her purse over her shoulder and grips the
strap. “We don’t need to be like other cliché celebrity couples
who don’t last. Let the public think we’re happy. Behind
closed doors we can do whatever we want.” She shrugs. “With
whomever we want.”
My jaw locks. “Absolutely not.”
She hums and backs up. “Then I guess you and your little
toy are going to be very unhappy with the results.”
I throw down the pictures she gave me and pick up the
divorce papers. “Don’t do this, Lena. You’re better than that.”
She laughs and turns her back to me. “I could say the same
thing about you. I never took you as a cheater, but here we are.
Consider my offer, husband. It’s the only way you’ll protect
your side piece from a world of hurt.”
The door opens and closes before I can get another word
in, leaving me with a new type of anger I’ve never felt before.
Staring down at the pile of pictures scattered in front of me, I
realize some of these are the same ones the press released over
the past month.
“Motherfucker,” I growl, grabbing my beer bottle and
throwing it as hard as I can against the wall. The sound of
glass shattering is music to my ears as I shakily gather the
pictures and shove them back into the envelope.
Grabbing my phone, I dial my manager’s number and rest
my forehead in my palm. He picks up on the first ring. “I need
you to do me a favor. Don’t ask any questions. Get me?”
He curses. “What did you do?”
Walked away from Kinley Thomas.
 CHAPTER NINE

K INLEY / 17

Z ACH STARTLES me by draping an arm over my shoulder as I

walk down the school hall. He pulls me in and rustles my hair
until I jab his ribs with my elbow. He knows I hate it when he
does that.
“Kinley,” he greets. “You’re still coming to the game
tonight right? You promised and I’d hate to guilt trip you.”
My eyes roll as I stop at my locker. “You love guilt
tripping people. You remind Corbin every week that you went
to see his play on the day he didn’t show up.”
“He deserves it.”
He’s not wrong. Corbin made up missing the birthday
dinner he promised me that night by taking me out the day
after and then surprising me at his house with a cake that his
mother made. She took pictures of all of us, but most of the
ones featuring me had my messy hair in a bun, and an even
messier smile painted on my face.
One of the pictures is hanging in the living room at home.
Mom told me I looked pretty, but I saw past the sliver of teeth
showing in the smile I gave the camera. Corbin had gotten a
text from one of the girls he shot with, Dalia, and was busy
talking to her about another interview they had together. I
watched him the whole time his mother took pictures, trying
not to be jealous or nervous that he’d forget about me because
he had better people to befriend.
If I admit that Corbin’s schedule makes me nervous, my
family will ask if supporting him when he leaves is worth it. I
ask myself that too, but I promised to support him no matter
what just like he did me. Sometimes, though, it feels like I
support him more than he does me.
I think of the Oscars and the RITA Awards—of all the
things we said we’d do together. It replants the seed of hope in
the pit of my stomach that uprooted when doubt crept in to
begin with.
I move out from under Zach’s arm as I grab my bag and
stuff some books inside it. “I already told you I’d be there.”
He opens my locker door wider and examines the pictures
and trinkets inside. Corbin taped a selfie of us together in the
door next to a picture he took of me writing during one of our
study sessions. There’s one of just him holding up a script and
giving me his signature smirk, his silver eyes full of mischief
that brighten them. He also put the origami bird from winter
formal on the little shelf by my pencil case.
“You guys are gross,” he states, leaning his shoulder
against the locker next to mine. “I thought he was going to rip
my arm off when I stole you from him during the dance.”
I giggle at the memory of a very irritated Corbin watching
us dance around the room. Zach was just playing around, but
Corbin made sure not to let me out of his sight the rest of the
night.
My eyes go to his briefly before I finish getting ready to
leave for the day. “He told me you liked me a while ago.”
He hums, face flashing with something unreadable before
he actually says a word. “Is that so?”
“Yep.” When he doesn’t say anything, I close my locker
and untangle my hair from my jacket and backpack straps. “I
told him that was silly. We’re friends, right?”
Zach’s expression lightens as he nudges my shoulder. “Of
course. Tell your guard dog he can stop trying to pee on you.
The school gets it.”
My nose scrunches. “That’s disgusting.”
He shrugs and falls into step with me as we weave our way
through the crowds of eager students trying to start their
weekend. “It’s true though. Admit it.”
I don’t.
“You could stay for practice,” he suggests, once we’re
downstairs. “Some people watch us warm up. You could just
chill until the game at six.”
I look at the clock and make a disgruntled face. “That’s
three hours away. What am I supposed to do for three hours?”
“Watch me. Duh.”
A new arm wraps around my shoulders, tugging me into a
firm side that smells vaguely of the French vanilla coffee he
consumes to stay awake these days. “Sorry to burst your
bubble, Russo, but she doesn’t want to watch you more than
she has to.”
Zach smirks at me. “Is he right, Kin?”
I swat Corbin until he drops his arm. “I don’t want to wait
until the game starts. I’ll just come back for it. I’ve got to
study anyway and try getting some writing done.”
Corbin reaches for my hand and intertwines our fingers
together. Zach notices the gesture and winks at me before
backing up and barking. Loudly.
My face heats as a few people start joining him for no
reason other than conformity. I just shake my head and wave
him off as Corbin squeezes my hand.
“I don’t know why I’m friends with him,” he muses,
walking us to the front doors.
“Because he’s nice?”
The distant howling coming from the boy’s locker room
behind us makes me giggle.
“Dude’s weird.”
 I shrug. “So are we. We just don’t bark.”
Corbin laughs. “Want to grab something to eat before we
get some homework done? I can order us a pizza.”
“Twizzlers too?” My face brightens with anticipation of
my favorite addiction.
Corbin stops. “When have I not gotten you Twizzlers when
we go somewhere?”
“Well—”
He holds up his hand. “Beside that one time I almost
forgot to grab them before we checked out. You didn’t even
have to say anything before I snatched a package up from
under the counter. I’m starting to think I should try cutting you
off though. You’re obsessed.”
My hand goes to my chest. “That’s like trying to get you
off caffeine. There will never be a day when I don’t consume
my weight in Twizzlers, Corbin Callum. Remember that when
you have to tailor my formal dress to fit me properly for the
Oscars.”
His eyes light up as he leans down and kisses me softly.
“We’re going to be the couple that the world can’t stop talking
about one day, Little Bird. We’ll be famous, in love, and ready
to conquer anything.”
I nibble on my bottom lip when I hear the L word before
getting on my tippy-toes and pecking his lips. “Bribe me with
Twizzlers, and I’ll be there.”
He guides us to his Jeep hand-in-hand.
He says we’ll be in love someday.
The flutter in my stomach says I’m already there.

T HE LAST FEW months of the school year pass by too quickly.

Impending awareness of what comes after graduation lingered
in every post-high school conversation I found myself in at
lunch with Zach and Corbin. It was all they talked about while
I sat there trying not to show how nervous it made me to know
they’d be leaving.
But I was happy for them. Zach got accepted to a local
college on a sports scholarship that he was excited about, and
Corbin made plans with his acting coach about taking his
career to the next step. He told me he had big plans that
someone he worked with on the movie was helping him with
but won’t tell me what. That makes my fear of what comes
next worse.
I brush off all the wariness because it gets me nowhere.
Instead, I focus on the sweat clinging to my forehead as I
search the sea of forest green caps and gowns for the dark hair
and silver eyes I’m here for. How many times has Corbin told
me in the past two weeks that this isn’t the end? Every time we
hang out it always boils down to my nerves getting in the way
of having fun. I can’t focus on the movies we put in because
all I think about is him, and when we do something intimate
my mind gets lost in how I may not feel his touch for much
longer. I bottle up every thought because there’s nobody I can
voice it to without feeling like an idiot. My family would tell
me I’m too consumed, and Corbin would tell me I’m
overthinking.
I’m guilty of both.
Forcing myself away from the rabbit hole I’m quickly
jumping down again, I lock away my worry and celebrate
Corbin’s big day instead. The room is stifling hot from all the
bodies crammed in to watch the commencement ceremony, but
it’s worth it to see the bright expression on Corbin’s face as he
locks eyes with me from where he’s positioned below.
Lifting my wrist, I point to the blue paper bird resting on
it. He smirks and does the same, moving aside his long gown
sleeve to reveal the white bird.
Mrs. Callum pats my knee and smiles as she listens to the
last speaker give their mundane inspirational speech that I
want nothing more than to fast forward through. She leans in
and whispers, “That will be you next year, darling.”
 Nibbling on my inner cheek, I watch the superintendent
take the podium to begin handing out diplomas. When the
guidance counselor confirmed I’d have the credits needed to
graduate next year, Corbin took me to one of my favorite
bookstores and bought me whatever I wanted to celebrate.
He’d been proud because he used his first check from the
movie.
We both celebrated our victories.
It was short lived when the dreadful life-after-high school
conversation filled every dinner conversation following the
news that I’d be graduating sooner. Gavin thought it was cool,
but Mom kept asking what I planned on doing.
College has never been in my plans, no matter how many
times I pretended to be a teacher when I was younger. Dreams
change. Writing has been the endgame for a lot longer. But
telling her that always leads to yet another meal where I shut
down because I don’t want to share anything about myself that
just leads to disapproval.
“You have to go to college, Kinley.”
“Gavin didn’t.”
“Gavin knew what he wanted to do.”
“I’ll be fine if I don’t go to college.”
And then she said it.
“If you don’t go to college the only thing you’ll accomplish
when you’re older is how to flip the perfect burger.”
Dad remained silent.
Gavin just frowned.
I smile at Corbin’s mom. “I’m looking forward to it,” I tell
her honestly, thinking of the second I can go somewhere far
away from here.
When Corbin’s name is called, I grab the sign from the
floor in front of me and stand up as he shakes the man’s hand
and accepts his diploma. He, his parents, and I all cheer him
on as I wave around the paper in my hands.
 He looks up.
And laughs.
In big bold letters, the sign says Corbin Callum’s Biggest
Fan.
Halfway to his seat, he stops in the middle of the stage and
takes a bow. Even his father laughs and shakes his head over
his son’s theatrics. Some of the other families chuckle as
Corbin finds his seat again.
After the ceremony ends, we wait for the graduating class
to walk outside before everyone follows suit. The fresh air
makes me sigh a breath of relief as I look for Corbin. His
mother spots him first, gesturing us in his direction. Before I
can get a few feet, a pair of arms reach out and yank me
forward.
I laugh as Zach spins us around, nearly hitting some of the
people standing next to him. He sets me down when I swat his
arm and shoots me a dorky grin. “I know you weren’t going to
walk away before congratulating me.”
Giving him a quick hug, I step back. “On a scale of one to
ten, how happy are you to be done with high school?”
“Not as much as your boyfriend,” he answers, chuckling.
“Admit it, Kinley. You’re going to miss me.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll miss both of you. I won’t have anyone
to annoy me anymore.” Taking that into consideration, I smile.
“That sounds nice come to think of it.”
He gasps and throws a hand to chest. “If I had feelings that
would have hurt them.”
“Leave the dramatics to Corbin.”
He snickers. “You going to invite me to your graduation?
I’ll make you a sign even though you didn’t make me one. I’m
thoughtful like that.”
I start backing away. “If you’re not too busy studying to be
a badass physical therapist, there’s a ticket with your name on
it.”
 He points. “I’m holding you to that.”
Sticking out my tongue, I turn and refocus on Corbin and
his parents. They’re standing in front of him and some young
blonde girl who looks vaguely familiar. Next to her is an older
man I’ve never seen before shaking Corbin’s hand.
Brows pinched I walk over.
“Hey, graduate,” I greet.
His eyes brighten as soon as he sees me, pulling me into a
hug. “The sign was a nice touch, Little Bird.”
Giggling, I step back. “Don’t forget to make me a shirt like
you promised. Everyone needs to know I was your first fan.”
“But certainly not his last,” the older gentleman says. He
holds out his hand. “Mark King. Nice to meet you.”
Hesitantly, I shake his hand. “Kinley Thomas.”
Corbin weaves our fingers together. “It looks like I just
found myself a manager. Mark’s daughter Dalia was in the
movie with me. He wants to work with me to get more parts.”
Dalia. I’ve seen pictures of her and Corbin from set that
he’s posted on his Instagram account, but hear far more about
her than I like. It’s weird having her stand mere feet away.
“Already have one in mind,” Mark adds, drawing me away
from my jealousy.
The blonde smiles at the bird perched on my wrist. “Cool
bracelet. Where’d you get it?”
I blush, touching the bird. “Corbin got them made from a
local woman. It’s sort of our thing.”
Her brows raise. “Birds?”
I just shrug.
Corbin squeezes my hand, redirecting the topic to me.
“Kinley is a writer. She got an agent a few months ago and has
multiple stories published online and in magazines.”
Everyone turns to my red face.
 It’s Mark who says, “Impressive. Is that what you want to
do with your life? Write.”
Clearing my throat, I give him an uncomfortable shrug.
“I’m not sure. I’d like to, but—”
It’s Mrs. Callum who brushes her hand against my arm and
tells him, “I have no doubt in my mind she’ll go places.” Her
eyes travel to Corbin. “They both will.”
Mark nods in approval. “I don’t know what’s in this town’s
water, but it seems to be creating the kind of dreamers I like
working with. Consider what I said, Corbin. We’ll talk more at
a later date now that you have my card.”
Dalia wiggles her fingers at him as she loops her elbow
with her father’s. “Call me when you make up your mind. You
and Daddy will make a perfect team.”
“I will, Dal. Thanks for coming.”
The two walk away, leaving the four of us left staring at
one another. I can’t help but watch Dalia as she waves at
everyone like she knows them. It bothers me more than I like,
but I force the wary feeling away.
I turn to Corbin. “I’m really happy for you. A manager?
That will be huge for you if you agree to work with him.”
His dad grumbles. “Still think the guy came off as an
asshole.”
Corbin’s lips twitch. “You think everybody comes off as an
asshole, Dad. Mark is just confident. You need to be, in this
business.”
His father’s matching silver eyes roll at the remark.
“There’s a difference between being confidant and cocky, and
that guy was the latter. And I don’t think everybody is an
asshole. I liked Kinley from the start.”
My face heats. “Thanks, Mr. C.”
He flashes me a grin before his eyes focus on his son’s.
“Keep her, son. Best advice I’ll ever give you is to never let go
of the good ones.”
 Corbin looks at me, his eyes shining with a different kind
of light I haven’t quite seen before. “Trust me, Dad. I won’t be
letting anything happen to her.”
I look down at the ground when I can no longer keep his
locked gaze. His fingers tighten around mine, his thumb
brushing the back of my hand, as we begin walking to their
car.
With his parents leading us, he leans down and brushes his
lips against my ear. “I know that I mess up sometimes, but I
mean it, Little Bird. It’s you and me against the world. You’re
stuck with me even if you don’t want to be.”
I hold onto his hand and lean against him as we walk
together. His lips brush the side of my head, causing my
eyelids to flutter.
When we settle into the back of his parents’ car, he takes a
pen from the console between his parents and grabs my hand.
Across the back of my unmarred skin, he writes, fly with
me.
Biting my lip, I look up through my lashes and want
nothing more than to say I love you, but the intense feeling in
my chest leaves me speechless as he picks up my hand and
kisses over the ink.
No more words are spoken.
None have to be.
 CHAPTER TEN

K INLEY / Present

T HE LETTERS SCATTERED across the kitchen island stare back at

me in vast numbers, but my attention is on the package with
Corbin’s name in the sender’s section. It’s bigger than the one
he sent with the notebook that I have yet to use. It just sits in
my office on display for me to torture myself with. Maybe if I
opened it again I would have known the number by heart that
he called me from the other day.
Would it have made a difference?
Almost on cue, the phone rings again, and the number in
question pops up. This time, his name is sprawled across the
screen in bold white letters that blend with my phone’s
background of Penny.
Sitting straighter, I press the answer button and stare at the
package. “You actually picked up,” he says quietly.
He called nearly a week ago, and I never found the energy
to use his number to return it after Mom stormed out. I only
saved his information to my contacts for when I had the
courage to break the news.
“Can we talk?” he asks.
“We are.”
His sigh is heavy, tired even. “Please? I don’t want you
shutting me out.”
 I move from the counter and glance at the package,
walking away with only my phone in my hand. “How does
Lena feel about these calls? I’m sure she’s thrilled. You know,
since you two are so in love.”
There’s a pause that echoes the hurt in my hollow chest as
I lay down on the couch. “What she did is not okay with me,
Kinley. You have to believe me. That’s why she doesn’t know
I’m calling,” he admits. “But it’s not because—”
“Just don’t. I’m tired, Corbin.” I don’t want his excuses. In
fact, I can’t figure out what I do want with him. I’m just over
fifteen weeks along and my patience is already wearing thin.
Sinking into the cushions, I close my eyes and try calming
my breathing like Dr. Ray taught me. His stress is bad for the
baby speech is laughable considering my life is a cement ball
of stress that nobody can lessen at this point.
“Did you get the package?”
I swallow. “I haven’t opened it.”
“Please?” is all he says.
Penny stares at me from the floor, waiting for me to make
my decision. My body is worn out from the nonstop puking,
gross from the amount I sweat, and fatigued from the lack of
sleep. I just want to lay here and pretend like there’s no
responsibility waiting for me.
It’s the way his voice breaks in quiet plea that shatters my
will. I don’t want to appease him, but I do it anyway. I peel
myself off the couch and walk back into the kitchen. The cool
floor feels good against my bare feet, so I stay standing and
eye the package in question for the millionth time since
receiving it.
Setting the phone down and putting it on speaker, I work at
the packaging it’s wrapped in. “Do I even want to know how
you got my address? Or my number? We talked about stalking,
Corbin. It’s frowned upon in most, if not all, countries.”
His low chuckle makes the tiniest smile tip my lips
upward. It doesn’t last though. “Just open the present, Little
Bird. I think you’ll like it.”
 I still want to know the answers to those questions, but I let
it go. Eyes narrowing in suspicion, I finally get the packaging
off and pull out a white cardboard box with a familiar logo
across the top. Brows pinching, I open it and stare at the
contents inside. My lips part as I pick up one of the origami
birds, holding the blue folded paper carefully in my fingers.
“Kinley?” he asks after a long moment of thick silence.
I blow out a breath and notice the printed words on each
one of them. They look like pages from a book. When I read a
few, I realize they’re pages from my book. “Why would you
get me this?”
“The woman who made your corsage back in high school
still runs her own business,” he explains quickly. “She does
paper flowers too, but I thought those would mean more. I
hope you’re not mad that she used your book, but I wanted to
immortalize it in a way that meant something to us.”
Us. My stomach twists with flutters from the simple two-
letter word. This shouldn’t mean anything to me, but it does.
He shouldn’t know what makes my heart race, or my fingers
tingle, or my stomach flutter, but he does. It’s frustrating to
feel like the battle within myself is always a losing one when it
comes to him.
Reality tells me to shut this down before I’m torn apart.
The fantasy I’ve built in my disillusioned head tells me to
embrace it without question. Being stuck in between the two
has me split, but I think back to the truest line I’ve ever
written.
Maybe we’re addicted more to the pain than to each other.
But who says the two need to be mutually exclusive? With
Corbin, that’s never the case.
I find the stool and slowly sink onto it. “I don’t even know
if there is an us,” I whisper, picking up another bird. This one
white.
“Don’t say that.”
“I’ve seen the pictures of you and—”
 “Those pictures mean nothing,” he insists, making a dry
laugh bubble from my lips.
“Like the ones of us?”
He grumbles under his breath. “Are you free this
weekend?”
My eyes widen. “Why?”
“Why do you think?”
I shake my head. “Corbin—”
“I love you,” he says, cutting me off. My heart pounds in
my chest hearing those words. He told me the very same thing
not long ago. He’d botched lines during filming just to look
me in the eyes and tell me how he feels. But I don’t know if he
really feels that way or not.
I don’t want him to.
I do want him to.
I just … sigh.
He keeps going when I make no effort to speak. “We need
to see each other and talk. I got you those birds because I’m
proud of you and want to share your success. You’ve
accomplished so much, Little Bird. Let me be there to cheer
you on like you always did for me.”
Staring down at my bulging stomach in the tight camisole
covering it, I blink back tears and grind my jaw. “It’s not a
good idea.”
“That seems to be our thing.”
I close my eyes when I hear the humor laced into his
words. “Do you think this is funny? It’s not. This is my career
on the line. If you come here and somebody sees you…”
“Nobody will—”
“Stop!” Do I have to remind him of the disguise he insisted
would hide him at the hotel? Or at the pharmacy when we
were there? If he isn’t going to think straight, I need to. “You
may not have anything to lose, but I do. If you want to support
me, then don’t come.”
There’s a knock at the front door. “Shit,” I murmur, putting
the birds down and walking into the foyer. “Please just listen
to me for once.”
I grab a blanket from the back of the couch and wrap it
around myself before unlocking the door and pulling it open.
My jaw drops when a pair of silver eyes greets my frazzled
dark ones.
Corbin smiles at me. “What would happen if I didn’t
listen?”
 CHAPTER ELEVEN

C ORBIN / Present

S HE ’ S pale as she stares at me, her hands winding the blanket

tighter around her body. I figured it was a risk showing up
unannounced, but I didn’t know what else to do. It took a lot
of work trying to figure out where she lived without owing
Zach a kidney or being seen by the press without draining my
bank account from bribed silence.
He cares about her. Enough so to hesitate before giving me
her address and I understand why. Mom told me over the years
that he’s always been there, cementing the biggest reason I
stayed away following my encounter with her brother. She
made her choice and I respected that the best I could.
“You told me you weren’t okay when I called the first
time,” I say softly into the phone.
Hers is still pressed against her ear as she blinks at me.
Slowly, I lower mine and hang up. I wait for her to do the
same, but when she doesn’t I take the phone and do it for her.
“Kinley?”
Her throat bobs. “You cannot be here.”
Ignoring the comment, I step forward and gesture toward
the inside of the house. “Can I come in?”
She let’s out a sharp breath and stands aside, clenching the
blanket to her. My brows pinch as I walk past the large green
plant in a wooden pot outside her front door, stepping on the
welcome mat with whiskers that says home is where my cat is.
I smile when she closes the door behind her, and a small calico
purring loudly struts over to me.
“You got a cat,” I praise, kneeling to pet its head. It nudges
my hand for more attention, turning in a circle and twitching
her tail.
“I’ll be right back,” she whispers, disappearing around the
corner. I hear footsteps against creaky wood and assume she’s
going upstairs.
It gives me a chance to look around the living room off to
my right. The open space is warm, with a large brown sofa and
matching armchair around a light wooden table near the back
wall. The TV is on a matching stand across from them with
pictures of her family on the various shelves, and movies
lining the bottom. I chuckle when I graze my fingers against a
Stephen King movie in the mix, smiling and studying some of
the pictures on the wall.
The picture of Gavin with a blonde-haired woman and
little boy has me shaking my head in awe. They all look happy
as they play in the leaves. Older. At peace. Walking to
examine a photo of Kinley and her parents beside it, I notice
how much her mother and father have aged. Time feels like
it’s barely passed since I last saw them, even though I know
it’s been almost a decade. Her father’s hair is white, his beard
speckled with gray, and her mother’s once dark locks that
Kinley got from her are lined with silver.
But that’s not what I really focus on.
When I hear her behind me, I peel my gaze from the
AC/DC sweatshirt she’s wearing in the picture and turn to say,
“I can’t believe you wore—” My words fade when I see the
very sweatshirt in question covering her body. It’s always been
too big on her, and she’s swimming in it now.
“The sweatshirt,” I finish. My head cocks as I approach
her, eyes trailing on the way her cheekbones are more
pronounced than I remember. “You’ve lost weight.”
She plays with the sleeves. “Stress.”
 I blow out a breath and reach for what’s in my back
pocket. “I got you something. Figured I shouldn’t come
unannounced and empty handed.”
When I pass her the red licorice peace offering, I don’t
expect her to pale more. “Please get those things away from
me, Corbin.”
My eyes widen as I stare down at the Twizzlers. “What do
you mean? I thought—”
“Jesus.” She covers her mouth and runs out of the room.
This time I follow her until I find her hunched over the kitchen
sink in the room over, barely able to hold her back as she
empties her stomach.
I walk up beside her and collect her long hair, holding it
back and cursing. “What do you need me to do?”
She grips the counter on either side and murmurs
something I can barely understand before vomiting again.
When she’s done, she runs water and rinses out her mouth,
spitting into the sink and making a choked noise in defeat.
After a few moments, she stands up and walks away, my
hands letting go of her hair as she grabs a dish towel and wipes
off her mouth. I just watch her as she throws it on top of the
washing machine that sits off to the side by the end counter.
“Little Bird?” When I step forward, she holds her palm up
to stop me. “Need me to get you something? Ginger ale?”
She sniffs and wipes at her face, and it’s only then I realize
her cheeks are damp. “What I need is for you to stop doing
this.”
“Doing what?”
She walks past me, brushing my shoulder and shaking her
head. I follow her up the stairs and two doors to the right. We
enter a large bedroom spattered with little color other than blue
decorative pillows on the bed, and abstract flower pictures
hanging on the otherwise plain wall. I take in the photographs
on her black dresser, surprised to see one of us from high
school.
 A door on the other side of the room opens and she
disappears into it, leaving it cracked open. I walk over and see
her grab a toothbrush from a small vanity and begin brushing
her teeth.
I lean against the wall outside the door, studying the black
nightstands, my eyes locking on a stack of books. “For what
it’s worth, your house is beautiful. It suits you.”
She makes a sound that doesn’t sound very amused, so I
push off the wall and walk over to where the picture frames
are. My fingers brush the edge of the frame featuring me and
her at the winter formal. One of her palms rests against my
chest, the custom corsage on her wrist on full display, and the
other is wrapped around my back. One of my arms is hooked
around her as my lips press against the top of her head. I’m
flipping off the camera, making Kinley laugh.
Zach took that picture of us.
Next to that one is an image of her and the cat that greeted
me downstairs. They’re both looking into the camera, Kinley
smiling and the cat glaring. I chuckle and move on to the
frame face down.
When I pick it up, I stare at the dark-haired man standing
beside Kinley that I don’t recognize. He has to be around my
age, definitely older than her. The way he holds her tells me
that they were more than friends at some point. His hold is
territorial, claiming. But not as much as the rock on her finger
I quickly spot.
“Fuck me,” I whisper, shaking my head.
“What?”
I turn with the picture in my hand. “You never told me you
were engaged.” My eyes can’t help but go to her hand, where
all fingers are naked of jewelry.
She walks over to her bed and sits on the edge, pulling the
baggy sweatshirt away from her body and staring at me like
she can’t quite grasp something. “I told you that I’ve had
failed relationships in the past. Excuse me if neither one of us
went into more detail about our significant others before we
jumped into fucking.”
My eyes narrow as I set the picture back how I found it.
“Is that how we’re going to be? That wasn’t just fucking,
Kinley.”
She shrugs loosely. “It doesn’t matter. You have no right
getting angry that I didn’t tell you about Parker. It isn’t like
you asked.”
Parker. How was I supposed to ask something like that?
“I’m sorry, okay? It isn’t like I planned any of this to happen
between us. But I’m not upset that it did.”
Her head turns to look at anything but me. She draws her
legs onto the mattress and crosses them under her. “Didn’t you
though?”
I wet my lips and give her that one. “I wanted the part, so
maybe I did plan it in some ways. I just wanted to be in your
life. We’ve been through this.”
She stares at her lap, her fingers fidgeting with one
another. “I talked to Gavin. You told me to ask him about what
happened in Lincoln, but I didn’t want anything to change.”
I walk over and sit beside her, pushing past the ex-fiancé
tidbit for now. “Why not?”
Her head turns to me. “Because I’m sick of everything
changing. I wanted to hate you. I wanted to keep you at a
distance. If Gavin told me something that changed how I
thought of you, then I’d have to admit I was wrong. When you
insisted that you two knew something I didn’t, I thought we
were finally heading in the right direction. Moving on from the
past.”
I nod. “We were.”
She inhales slowly, blowing it out before flattening her
palms against her leggings. “I’m sorry for what he did. You
have to know something important, okay?”
I wait for her to say something.
“I was never with Zach.”
 My lips part as I blink at her.
She stands up and shoves her hands into the large pocket
of my old sweatshirt. “How many times did I tell you that him
and I were friends? That never changed after you left. If
anything, he became the kind of friend I needed. I was happy
to have him be there for me, but it was never like … what
Gavin made it out to be. He and I got into a fight over it.”
My throat hurts as I swallow. “You and Zach never…?”
She just shakes her head.
“Never?”
Her shoulders drop. “Do you want me to paint you a
picture? No. Zach and I were friends. We still are, in case
you’re wondering.”
“I know.”
Her brows arch.
I rub the back of my neck. “I was desperate to reach out to
you when you didn’t use my number. I found him online and
asked if he knew how I could get in touch with you.”
She laughs when I least expect it. “You thought he and I
were a thing and you still reached out to him to get in touch
with me?”
I stand. Part of me always knew what Gavin said was
bullshit, but I didn’t want to question it. I’d always seen how
they interacted in school. Zach liked her and she knew it. It
wasn’t farfetched to believe he comforted her when she
needed it.
“Your brother loves you.”
She hesitates. “I know.”
“He was protecting you.”
She kicks the carpet with her toe. “It doesn’t change
anything. Don’t you get it? We would have been together. We
could have had a chance. Right person, wrong time.
Remember?”
 “But look at us.” I gesture around. “We have done pretty
good considering. You have an amazing house, a successful
career. You’re doing what you always said you would. Could
you say the same if we’d gotten that chance before?”
I can tell my words sink in because she blows out a breath
and shakes her head. When she doesn’t say anything, I step
closer and grab her hand. “Look at me, Little Bird. We have
obstacles that won’t be easy to get past, but they’re not
impossible. I don’t want either of us to walk away. We need
each other.”
Her bottom lip trembles. “You have no idea,” she
whispers, voice cracking as I pull her into me. My hand
cradles the back of her head, brushing my fingers through her
hair. Her hands lock on my sides, keeping some distance
between us as I hush her like I used to when she was upset.
Tears soak my shoulder, causing my own emotions to rise
up the back of my throat. “Please don’t cry, baby. I’m so sorry
for what I’ve done. It will be different. I’m not going
anywhere.”
She lets go of me and peels herself away, damp face and
hollow eyes meeting mine. “I need you to remember that,
Corbin.”
I swipe my thumb across her cheeks. “I wish I could make
this all better. Tell me what I need to do, Little Bird.”
Moving my hand away from her face, she squeezes it and
drops our hold. “Promise me you’ll be there for me no matter
what.”
“Done,” is my instant response.
“Corbin—”
“We mess up,” I cut her off, trying to make her see this is it
for me. For us. “That’s reality, Kinley. People mess up but that
doesn’t mean we have to ruin a beautiful thing. There
shouldn’t be a limited number of chances before giving it all
up because nobody gets it perfect no matter how many times
they try to.”
“Corb—”
 “Please.” My voice cracks. “There is a lot I can’t undo—
what Lena has said, what the media has said, whatever
happened between you and Parker. But I can do my fucking
best to make you see that none of that matters. It should only
matter what we know to be true. And that’s what’s between us.
A past. A present. A future.”
She closes her eyes, letting tears stream in ragged lines
down her cheeks. “You’re going to be a dad.”
 CHAPTER TWELVE

K INLEY / 17

F RENCH VANILLA WAFTS in the air as the crackling fire breaks

the silence around us. I flutter my eyes and note the soft cotton
material I’m using a pillow, before my palm reaches up and
caresses a soft rising chest.
“Sorry,” I whisper, sitting up and rubbing my eyes with my
fisted palms. I glance up at the dark, starry sky. “It’s pretty out
tonight.”
He stays on the ground, hands folded across his chest.
“You were tired. Lay back down, Little Bird. I was
comfortable.”
Rolling my eyes, I do as he says and rest my cheek against
him. “I’m going to miss this,” I tell him, hefting a sigh.
He wraps an arm around me, leaning his head on mine.
“We still have time. I don’t leave until the end of the month.”
Lips weighing down, I listen to his heartbeat. His
eighteenth birthday present to himself was a contract with
Mark King, his new manager. He already has three auditions
for new parts, all in Los Angeles. Apparently Mark has a place
for Corbin to stay in L.A. while he auditions. He’s already
been guaranteed one commercial appearance, which he’s
shooting in a few weeks.
“Are you excited?”
 His hand stills the gentle movements on my upper arm.
“Yes.”
“Will you miss me?”
He squeezes me, chuckling. “Are you fishing for
compliments, Little Bird? You know I’m going to miss you.”
Blowing out a breath, I brush my hands against his
stomach. “It’s going to be weird without you telling me
random fun facts about Stephen King.”
“I’m sure you’ll really miss that.”
“For sure.”
We lay like that for another few quiet moments, just
holding each other and absorbing one another’s warmth. My
hand trails up his stomach, resting just above his heart. Brows
pinching when I feel the slightest uplift of rigid skin beneath
the pad of my thumb, I sit up and stare down at him in
curiosity.
His silver eyes light up as they stare back at me, pressing
my hand harder against him. “I want to show you something.”
He sits up and reaches behind him, pulling his tee off with
one yank over his head. My eyes trail down to his left pec,
where two little black lines rest. They’re still slightly red as I
gently brush my finger against them.
“These are real?”
He picks up my hand and kisses the fingers before
dropping them back onto his bare skin. “I got them earlier
today.”
I sit on my knees and study the simplicity of each line—
like tally marks. “Why lines?”
His chest moves in slow, calm breaths. “It represents us.
Two entities that are equal to each other. Dreamers. Doers.”
I continue staring at the ink for another moment before
moving my eyes upward. “Will Mark have problems with you
getting this? Did you clear it with him? I hear that some
people don’t—”
 He laughs. “Don’t worry about it. We’re remembered for
the rules we break, not follow. And I don’t care what he or
anyone thinks of them. I didn’t get this for anyone else.”
Listening to him makes me smile. I trace the two little
lines and feel a shiver when his breath tickles my face. His lips
find my cheek, then slowly trail to my lips until they hover
over them.
I breathe him in. “You’re the only one who gets what it’s
like to want something as bad as I do. Not having you here to
cheer me on or vent to…”
Laying back down, I stare at the sky. The lights are
twinkling in welcome rhythms, making tears well in my eyes
until they no longer dance with clarity.
“Hey.” He reaches for my hand and looks down at my
glazed eyes, squeezing my fingers with his. “Look at me,
Little Bird.”
I obey.
Tapping the tattoos on his chest, he gives me a soft smile.
“These are forever. Inked on my skin permanently. You know
why that is?”
My head shakes slowly.
He reaches down and brushes hair from my face. “We’re
inevitable. No matter where either of us are, that won’t
change. Okay?” My heart flutters in my chest. “There are a lot
of things that end, but memories are forever. A year isn’t long
enough for me. I need longer.”
My bottom lip trembles as a tear slides down my face.
Before I can wipe it away, he does with his thumb. I swallow
and say, “You shouldn’t say stuff like that, Corbin.”
“Why not?”
I take a deep breath. “You’re leaving and neither one of us
knows what will happen. You’ll be busy becoming famous and
I’ll be stuck here barely getting through senior year. You won’t
want to be tied down to a girl from the middle of nowhere.”
“Stop.”
 “I’m just being realistic.”
“You’re trying not to get hurt,” he counters instantly.
Isn’t it the same thing?
Pursing my lips, I lift my shoulders without bothering to
argue. Nobody wants to walk into pain. It’s better to anticipate
it. But am I any better than my family then?
“Corbin, maybe—”
“I love you.”
My lips part.
He rests on one of his elbows, partially hovering over my
body. One of my palms goes to his chest, cupping his ink, the
other stays on my own to feel the erratic beat of my heart.
“What?”
He chuckles, using one hand to thumb my bottom lip. “I
love you, Little Bird. Maybe it’s premature, maybe it’s late,
but it’s true and that’s all that matters.”
All I can do is blink. Goosebumps pebble my skin as I
meet his lips and feel his body settle over me, sinking us into
the soft grass.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I hold him to me and
feel him part my lips with his. The kiss is slow, sensual, all-
telling without any words between us. My hand finds the
tattoo and presses against it to feel the healing skin.
I pull away first, resting my forehead against his shoulder.
“We’re going to be across the country from each other. Now
you say it?”
His fingers comb through my hair. “I’ve always said it.
Just without the words.”
My eyes close as I pepper a kiss against his shoulder.
“Corbin?”
He lets out a sharp exhale.
“I love you, too.”
 His arms wrap around me, curling me against his body as
we settle onto our sides. The fire remains the only sound other
than our synced heartbeats drumming together. I bury my face
in the crook of his neck and soak in the moment.
Words no longer seem necessary.
Just each other’s presence is enough.
And I think, I want to get used to this.
But we don’t.
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN

K INLEY / Present

W E SIT at the kitchen table in utter silence. My eyes are

focused on the way his lock with the floor, his fists tightening
and loosening over and over as he thinks. Not one word was
spoken as he walked down the stairs, me following him
thinking he’d leave.
He stayed.
He’s here.
So, I accept the silence.
It feels like an eternity passes before I blow out a slow
breath and reposition on the chair enough to make it creak.
Corbin glances up, his attention suddenly on my hidden
stomach beneath his old hoodie. His eyes are distant, pained as
he studies my torso.
My words are nothing more than a whisper when they
escape my lips. “Are you okay?”
A gargled laugh comes from his throat. “I am a lot of
things, but that’s not a good word to describe what I am right
now.”
Pressing my lips together, I wrap my arms protectively
around my midsection. “I didn’t ask for this, Corbin. You of
all people know that. If you think—”
“I’m not angry with you, Little Bird.”
 I blink, slowly grasping the words I don’t anticipate
hearing. “You’re not? Because this is the last thing either of us
needs. I don’t want…” Licking my lips, I close my eyes and
shake my head. “I’m not forcing you into anything. You said
you didn’t want kids, and this is the definition of trouble
which we can’t afford to be in—”
Once again, he cuts off my nervous rambling. “When did I
say that I didn’t want kids?”
I part my lips, then close them.
“Kinley,” he repeats. His eyes narrow in inquiry, before he
scoffs and brushes a hand through his already messy hair. “I
said that in high school. Are you going to hold that against me
after all this time?”
“Who said I was holding it against you?”
“You’re answering my question with a question,” he
accuses, standing up. “That’s deflecting. Tell me, Kinley.
Why?”
I put my face in my hands. “I didn’t mean it, okay? I’m
tired. I can barely eat. Sleep has become nonexistent. I’m
always fucking puking, horny, and miserable. Do you
understand the reality of this? I’m pregnant with your baby.”
Footsteps near me before my hands are pulled away from
my face. Corbin kneels in front of me, holding my wrists so I
can’t cover myself again. “Trust me, Little Bird, I know. But
just because I said something when I was a teenager doesn’t
mean I feel the same now.”
My heart plummets to the bottom of my stomach, and I
yank my arms from his grip. His brows pinch as I shut down,
shaking my head and trying everything to get away from him.
“Kinley? What—” He curses and stands quickly, catching
my arm as I turn away. “I didn’t mean my feelings for you.
Those have always been fucking true. Don’t for a second close
me out, especially not now. What have I always said to you?”
I say nothing.
 “We’re inevitable,” he says firmly, locking our gaze
without blinking. The conviction of those two words isn’t
foreign to me. In fact, despite our situation, it warms my chest
to hear.
And that’s a problem.
He squeezes my arm. “Didn’t you used to believe that
things happen for a reason? This is no different.”
My brows raise in disbelief. “You think my birth control
failing is some act of fate? We used to say that about our
dreams, not inconvenient pregnancies.”
Stomach twisting over the harsh words, I blow out a heavy
breath and try collecting myself. I don’t want to make this
harder than it is. Corbin just has to understand that we’re only
facing one of many uphill battles. Once the public finds out…
My shoulders tense as I carefully pull away from his hold.
His warmth is comforting, luring me back in. Deep down I still
believe that things happen for a reason, just like I always have.
But as I get older, I realize that reason rarely reveals itself. We
make things up to justify our actions. Maybe that’s all this is.
Forced reason.
“You don’t believe that,” he says softly, stepping in front
of me again. “Come on, Little Bird. You said you’d fly with
me. You said you’d soar. What happened?”
I look at my stomach. “I broke my wing.”
He cups my cheek, lifting my head up to meet his solemn
eyes. “It’s not broken. You’re just scared. You have to jump.”
Shaking my head, I say, “I can’t.”
He steps closer. “You can.”
“You’re supposed to be angry.”
His shoes touch mine. “Why?”
My eyes close. “Because I am. I’m angry, Corbin. I…”
Balling up my fists, I smack his chest, but he goes nowhere. “I
hate this. I hate what we’ve done. I hate that I put myself in
this situation. I hate yo—”
 He catches my fists before I can strike him again,
frustrated tears coating my cheeks. “I know you’re feeling like
that now, but—”
“Stop!” Voice cracking, I yank my grip from him and step
back. This time he lets me. “I don’t understand how you’re so
calm. We messed up big time, Corbin. You’re married to
another woman. I can’t have a baby with you.”
“You’re already having one.” He gestures to my stomach
in exasperation. His fingers go to his hair once more. “Christ,
Kinley. It’s not like we can change what’s already been done.
And I don’t want to. Do you?”
Stuffing my hands into the pocket of my hoodie, I walk
around the other side of the table to put distance between us.
His hesitation is heavy in the air. “You can’t change that,
can you?”
Swallowing past the emotion in my throat when I hear the
faintest devastation in his tone, I shake my head. “I’m fifteen
weeks. That’s too far along to do anything about it, if that’s
what you’re asking.”
He cusses. “And if you weren’t?”
My jaw trembles as he rounds the table. I step back as he
nears me, my back trapping me between his body and the wall
behind me. “I don’t know, okay? Obviously I didn’t want to
because I’m still pregnant.”
His arms go to either said of my head, face drained of
emotion. “I wouldn’t have even known, would I? If I hadn’t
shown up?”
“That’s not fair.”
“Answer. Me.”
“I was going to tell you,” I hiss, keeping my arms locked
in my pockets.
“When?”
“When I was ready.”
“Not good enough.”
 “When I felt you were ready.”
He draws back like I stabbed him.
Knowing he won’t let me walk away, I lift my shoulders
stiffly. “You said you don’t love Lena, but you aren’t doing
anything about it. I’ve seen the magazines. The tabloids. The
stupid e-alerts. You’re still with her. Holding her hand.
Hugging her. So don’t act offended that I made the best
decision for us.”
Us. Me and baby.
Not me and Corbin.
The taste is sour in my mouth.
His next move is daring, his body pressing against mine as
his hands draw mine out of the hoodie and pins them against
the wall. “I did not come here to hear you give up on us, Little
Bird. You may think your wing is broken, but it’ll heal. We’ll
get through this.”
“It’s not that easy!”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re wrong for each other,” I tell him brokenly.
“Society will never be okay with this relationship once they
learn the truth. We’ll be labeled cheaters. I’ll be a
homewrecker.”
“We’re right,” he argues. “And my home has been
wrecked long before you showed up in California. I’m not just
saying that.”
“Please?” I no longer know what I’m begging for.
Peace.
Salvation.
Closure.
Him.
Always him.
His fingers tighten around my wrist, keeping them against
the wall so I can’t push him away like I tell myself to. “We’re
getting a divorce.”
Four words.
Four words that change everything.
The way I think.
The labor of my breath.
My train of thought.
And my heart. My heart races and squeezes and warms and
expands until I feel like I may combust.
“What?” is all I can fathom to say.
His lips twitch—not into a smile or frown, but the slightest
upward slant that tells me all I need to know. “You’re right.
Nothing about us is easy. It won’t be. People aren’t going to
support us the way we’ll want them to. But you know what?
Fuck them.”
“You can’t say things like that.”
“Can’t I?”
“Those people,” I reply, “are the reason you’re so
successful. It matters what they think, just like my readers’
opinions matter to me.”
“I’m not saying they don’t.” He sighs. “I don’t know what
you want me to say. Do you want me to tell you I’m pissed off
that you’re pregnant? That I’m angry? I’m not. I’m surprised.
But more than that? I’m fucking happy. If you don’t want to
believe that this is a sign, then I will. How many years have
we been apart? How many relationships have we failed all to
come full circle? Things don’t just happen by coincidence.
You flew to me. Broken wing or not, you found your way back
to me.”
All I can do is gape at him. We watch each other with
mixed emotions on our faces, his coated with something far
lighter than mine. He’s genuine about this. And I…
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to close my eyes and
block him from my vision. “I hate this. What are we doing,
Corbin? This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. We’re supposed to
fall in love and fight for each other. We let each other go
instead. We lived two different lives. We moved on … or tried
to. I hate that this is our story. Our legacy. I just…” I sniffle
back tears. “I want so badly to hate you right now.”
“But you don’t.”
I refuse to speak.
“You love me, Little Bird.”
Nothing.
“I hate—”
A warm breath caresses my ear. “There’s more passion in
hate, more fire,” he whispers against my lobe. “So, maybe you
do hate me and my logic. But every time you say I hate you,
I’ll know you burn for me.”
I let out a ragged breath.
His lips brush my cheek, then trail closer and closer to my
lips. “So, tell me. Where is our story going next?”
He stops at the corner of my lips, which part to feel his
breath radiate from them. I can practically taste him and it
hurts.
I’ll know you burn for me.
“I don’t know,” I admit, afraid to open my eyes and look at
the last person I should want.
“Look at me.”
My lids twitch.
His teeth nip at my bottom lip, causing me to suck in a
breath and arch my pelvis into his as he rolls my lip into his
mouth and suckles. When he lets go, I make a disgruntled
noise. “I need you to open your eyes, Little Bird.”
I know what he’ll say.
I don’t know if I can handle it.
But I obey.
 I peel open my lids and meet the silver color that weakens
my knees and drives me mad. Locking my gaze with his, I feel
his hands let go of my wrists and wrap around my waist. Our
bodies pressed together soothes my internal turmoil, and the
burn he knows I hold deep inside sparks for him.
Caressing my sides, he delivers the three words I’ve told
myself not to accept. “I love you. You can push me away, hate
me, question me, but I will always be here. Right here. This is
where I want to be—where my little birds are.”
He cements his statement by pressing his palm against my
stomach between us, holding onto the being that ties us
together forever.
He’s always been right.
We’re inevitable.

M Y OFFICE FLOOR is littered with plastic totes full of odds and

ends that I refused to look through since packing them away.
Their familiarity quickens the pace of my heart as I dig
through the old memories and pull out the burgundy notebook
that both Corbin and I know well.
“Gavin tried getting me to throw this stuff out when he
helped me move,” I say, staring at the notebook before turning
it to where Corbin stands at the doorway.
His lips part. “Is that…?”
Walking in, he takes it from me and studies the gold
lettering that says Most of all let love guide your life. Flipping
through the full pages of blue and black ink, he shakes his
head as his lips tug into the smallest smile.
“You kept this?” His eyes scan the handwritten words
filling each page, looking between it and me when realization
dawns on him. “This is the book, isn’t it?”
My cheeks pinken, as I go back to dig through my bins.
Silver bows, and smaller plastic containers holding origami
birds from high school makes a lump form in my throat.
 Sitting on the edge of my desk, Corbin turns the pages of
the notebook he gave me for Christmas in high school and
begins reading from it. “’I was stupid. Stupid for the way I
loved so easily, hoped too deeply, and expected too blindly. I
was naive for feeling so carefree, smiling so widely with a
simple text, and losing myself so quickly to a man I knew
would leave me one day.’”
He pauses, running his fingers down the page before
continuing. “’It was silly to believe that things would be
different than any other heartache humans experience. I’d been
warned, but I ignored the signs. All or nothing—that’s what I
gave. He took all. I got nothing.’”
I know for a fact that the ink on the page is smudged and
faded in certain parts. To the bottom right is the faintest water
stain in the form of a small tear droplet, and I wonder if he can
feel my pain if he touches it.
“’And through it all,’” he reads through a hollow voice that
wavers, “’I wonder, why not me? I inspect my flaws because
there are a lot of them and study my mannerisms because
they’re vast. And I think … it was always meant to be this
way. Lonely. Trying. Inevitable.’”
Pressing my lips together, I think of the last word and
swallow my emotions. Inevitable. Ironic how that word likes
to reappear between us—the same word with two different
contexts.
“I don’t remember that in the script,” he finally says,
clearing his throat.
I play with the silver bow in my hands, running my fingers
over it without looking at Corbin despite the way he stares. “It
didn’t get added into the book.”
“Why not?”
My eyes trail over to him slowly, surely the dark brown
color of them wary and distant as we lock gazes. “That was the
first thing I wrote when I realized you weren’t coming back.
My heart hurt from thinking about you and my eyes hurt from
crying all the time. Mom told me to write to make myself feel
better, so I did. I bled onto that page with anger and betrayal
because you left me like everyone said you would. I put
myself in the position to be broken like Gavin always said I’d
be. I was angry with myself. I just felt so stupid.”
He abruptly closes the notebook and squats in front of me,
brushing hair behind my ear that escaped my messy updo.
“I’m sorry. I know those words don’t mean much now, but I
am for what it’s worth.”
I lean into my palm. “That notebook went everywhere with
me. Every time I thought of one-liners or quotes or scenes, I’d
stop whatever I was doing to jot it down. I did what Jamie told
me when we met. I wrote a story worth telling, putting it all
down no matter how much it hurt. And you know what?”
I move my head away from his touch as I place the silver
bow on the carpet and pick up a plastic container. Opening it, I
reveal the origami corsage from winter formal. “I used writing
as an outlet. We both succumbed to our vices.”
He repositions to sit down beside me, grazing his
fingertips across the old relic like he can’t believe I’ve kept it.
Honestly, I can’t believe I was strong enough to either. “I
wouldn’t exactly call writing a vice.”
I set the bird down and rummage through my other saved
memories. “It is when you use it like I do.” I laugh softly and
grab the same worn Stephen King book I used to read to him
at night like he’d ask me to. “Writing was supposed to be an
escape. It was meant to let me get my feelings out in a
therapeutic way so I could move on. And instead, I wrote
about the very thing I was supposed to forget.”
He grabs the book from me and flips through the pages,
seeing the random notes littering the margins. I hated when he
wrote in it, so it became a habit of his just to irritate me.
“You did what you had to do,” is what he thinks to answer,
closing the book and resting it in his lap. I stop digging in the
bin, soaking up his words. “I think what you did was the best
thing you could have done. Think about it, Little Bird. The
reason so many people resonate with your characters is
because there are thousands of people just like Beck and Ryker
out there. You gave your readers an outlet too.”
Drawing in my bottom lip, I give him the tiniest shrug. I
know he’s right, but something is holding me back from
admitting it. “Tell me why you gave them a happy ending.
Explain to me why you made them go through years of never
knowing how to be happy, just to come full circle and get that
happiness.”
My eyes focus on the plastic bin.
“Kinley,” he presses.
Hands going to my hair, I pull it out of the ponytail and
redo it into a messy bun so it’s out of my face. “A lot of
reasons. I wanted to give people hope that you could still find
that person meant for you even after the trials you face
together. I wanted to show that relationships aren’t some clear,
clean thing. Sometimes you do bad things to get what you
want and end with the person you’re determined to have.
And…”
His brows raise.
“And I wanted to live out the ending I’d dreamt for us in
any form I could,” I add in an audible tone.
Moving the book off his lap, he reaches forward and pulls
me into him. I nearly topple over but catch myself on his
shoulders. He grins and tugs me onto his lap, so I’m sitting
sideways. His lips find my jaw, peppering kisses along the
edge until his teeth nip my earlobe.
I inhale sharply when he brushes his lips against my ear
and whispers, “We were always meant to get there, Little Bird.
It just took us some time.”
Squirming from the heat between my thighs, I lift and
swing one leg over his lap to straddle him. His hands find my
sides, resting on my waist, as I wrap my arms around his neck.
Gnawing on my lip for a moment, I say, “This wasn’t
exactly the ending I envisioned for us, Corbin.” I look around
the room before meeting his curious eyes. “Sitting on your lap
in the middle of my office, four months pregnant, wondering
what’s going to happen when the truth comes out. Will our
parents freak? Will they judge us? Forgive us? What is Lena
going to say or do? How are our careers going to be impacted
by it? I have so many questions in my head that are giving me
a headache.”
“We’ll figure those out together.” His fingers twitch into
my sides as he draws my lips toward his. “Let me help you
relax, Little Bird. No thinking. Just us.”
“Maybe I’m afraid of us.”
He hums against my lips, parting them to taste me. I don’t
pull back, just tighten my hold around him and deepen the
kiss. Once upon a time this intimacy wouldn’t have come with
consequences, but we’re too far gone to care.
Moving everything out of the way, he lays me down and
hovers over my body. One of his hands cups my cheek, his
thumb brushing my bottom lip, while the other goes to the
hem of my sweatshirt.
I freeze, realizing the evidence of our indiscretion would
be clear as day once he strips me. Nobody has seen my belly. I
can barely look at its roundness in the mirror without breaking
down. “Corbin…”
He stops. “Let me make you feel good.”
We stare at each other, something burning in the air
between us. My eyes glaze over with tears and unspoken
emotion, causing him to lean down and kiss me the way I need
him to. With love. With lust. With passion. With yearning.
With Corbin, I feel every little thing and it terrifies me.
“I don’t want you seeing…” My eyes flick down to my
stomach, which he reaches out and brushes over the thick
cotton covering it.
“I love all of you.” His palm flattens against the bump.
“Especially what’s happening right here. There’s a part of us in
there, Little Bird. Someone we can teach to fly, and love, and
work hard just like we did.”
My jaw quivers as my head slowly nods, giving him all the
permission he needs to peel the sweatshirt and camisole
underneath off me. I help him by sitting up, revealing the
stretched skin beneath, curved and rounded in the slightest
way it wasn’t before.
My throat closes as he stares, his hands caressing the
smooth skin in such a gentle way like he’s afraid I’ll shatter.
“That’s our baby in there,” he repeats, words cracking.
He looks up at me, catching me staring back with glassy
eyes. Climbing over me, he claims my lips and threads his
fingers through my hair to mold my mouth to his. My pelvis
arches to grind against the hard cock trapped in his jeans,
squirming to get friction and relieve the pressure that’s built
inside me.
He works his way down my body, spending time
reacquainting himself with my pebbled nipples. Rolling one
between his lips rewards him with a breathy moan that feeds
him to do the same with the other until I’m writhing.
“I need more,” I pant, weaving my fingers in his hair and
tugging.
His tongue makes a trail between the valley of my breasts,
over the bump of my belly, until he teases the waistband of my
leggings. Tracing his palms down my sides slowly, he works
further down my legs and spreads them wider to fit his broad
body between. His finger dips underneath the elastic, moving
it down and letting his tongue taste the uncovered skin. My
legs try closing as I grind into him again, needing everything
from him and more.
I yank his hair with impatience, causing him to relent on
his torture and pull my leggings off. Helping him rid them, he
guides his palms up my ankles, calves, and thighs, spreading
me wide and nipping the skin as he works his way up to my
pussy.
Licking a trail up the apex of my thigh has me panting, but
not as much as when he shifts to brush the tip of his nose
against the seams of my lips. I gasp as he blows on me, the
faintest whisper of his name greeting the air in a choked plea.
He groans at the taste of me when he spreads me open and
swipes his tongue from my bundle of nerves to my soaked
entrance, learning just how much my body needs him right
now.
He peels himself away and looks up. “I want you to come
in my mouth, Little Bird.”
My head tips back and the air swallows a strangled curse
as he works my clit into his mouth and sucks hard. His fingers
trail up one of my thighs, kneading the skin, before finding my
entrance again. He plays with my arousal, circling his finger
around the wetness without entering me. My hips move
forward, trying to get as much as I can, causing him to move
his tongue toward where his fingers play with me.
I moan loudly when his tongue enters me as his fingers go
to my clit, pinching, teasing, anything to make my noises fill
the room. My fingers dig into his scalp, guiding his mouth to
the rhythm I want as I ride his face to chase my building
orgasm. My knees lock on either side of his head as he inserts
a finger and licks his way back up to my clit.
Hooking a second finger inside me, he fucks me with his
lean digits again and again as he nips my clit until I tighten
around him and yell out incoherent words.
“I’m going to come,” I gasp over and over, yanking on his
hair harder and pulling him away. He removes his fingers and
replaces them with his mouth, wanting me to do just as he
said.
My legs struggle to stay open, so he holds them as I writhe
beneath him. His tongue penetrates me until I clench it with
my climax.
“Please,” I whisper on repeat as my orgasm takes over my
body. I spill into his mouth, his tongue not stopping until my
hips stop moving and my body becomes sated on the carpet.
Pulling away, he caresses my legs and looks at my flushed
face before I cover it with the crook of my arm to catch my
breath. “Baby, I’m just getting started.”
He shows me just that when he slides out of his clothes
and positions himself right where he’s meant to be between
my legs, thrusting his cock into me over and over until I’m
screaming his name in as many positions as he can bend me.
And every time he empties himself into me, he kisses my
stomach and whispers sweet nothings to the baby inside,
telling us both how much he loves us before making me come
again.
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN

C ORBIN / Present

B REATHING IN A FAINT PEACH SCENT , I pull a warm body into

me and smile. My eyes crack open to see strands of light
brown hair hiding a peaceful sleeping face where we rest in
her bed. Her lips are parted as she snuggles closer into my
side, her cheek using my chest as a pillow.
Closing my eyes, I soak in the moment. How long have I
been searching for this contentment without realizing it?
Nuzzling my nose against the crown of her head, I pull her
closer to my body. She groans and moves her hand up my
chest, placing it just above the tattoos that rest on my pec.
Just like she did before.
Her body stiffens in my hold as I rub her arm, her cheek
lifting from me. “Corbin?”
I hum, not really wanting to ruin the moment with words.
Sometimes it’s better not to say anything. She could change
her mind about me staying here for a while. I saw the
contemplation in her expression when I proposed the idea, but
something inside her beat back the reasons she was going to
argue against it.
She doesn’t say anything more, and I continue my soft
strokes over her arm. Her head rests against my chest, a sigh
stretching out the silence between us. Her thumb caresses my
shirt and I wonder if she’s doing it on purpose or has no idea.
 I’m not sure how long we stay like that, afraid of speaking
—of the reality that lingers. If we could avoid the topic, I have
no doubt that we both would. But that reality isn’t ours. Like
always, she’s the one who speaks it.
“We need to come up with a game plan.”
“Or,” I counter, brushing my fingers through her hair
slowly, “we could just lay here and not do anything.”
She sits up, making my arm drop onto the mattress behind
her. Her eyes don’t look nearly as tired as they did when I
arrived yesterday, so I glance at the time on her alarm. My
brows raise when I see we slept in until noon.
“If you insist on talking, we need food.”
She groans and pulls back, sitting cross-legged next to me.
“Food and I don’t get along these days. There are takeout
menus downstairs if you want something.”
“We could go somewhere.”
She deadpans, leaving me considering my words. Her
expression breaks when I laugh, palming my face and sitting
up. “What’s so funny?”
I stretch my arms and settle against her headboard.
“Everything feels normal when I’m with you. We’re not
Corbin and Kinley, public figures, we’re just two people who
are about to be parents. Normal. It’s … nice.” I never used to
crave such a thing, but now I’m beginning to realize maybe
this is what I’ve needed all along.
She laughs and slides off the bed. “We’re anything but
normal.” Gesturing to her midsection as if to make a point, she
walks toward the bathroom door. “But I get it. It’s like that for
me too.”
When she closes the door, I yell, “Normal is boring
anyway, Little Bird. We’re meant to stand out.”
I’m pretty sure she scoffs, making me chuckle to myself
before pulling off the blanket and standing up. Rolling my
shoulders back, I grab my phone and notice the messages
listed across the screen.
 Eddie: Don’t mess this up
Lena: Where the hell are you?
Zach: She hates roses
Lena: You better call me. Now
Eddie: Son, answer your phone
Mom: Your father and I want to talk
Zach: She still loves pizza
Lena: I swear I’ll release more pictures
Grinning over Zach’s texts, I thumb out a thank you to him
and ignore the others. I’ll deal with everyone else when I’m
ready, but today is between Kinley and me. Nobody needs to
ruin the olive branch that’s been extended.
“What are you smiling at?” she asks, leaning her shoulder
against the doorframe.
I note the five voicemails I have yet to listen to, switching
off my screen and depositing my phone into my back pocket.
“Something Zach said. Would you eat pizza if I ordered it?”
Her arms cross over her chest. “You guys still talk? He’s
never mentioned that before.”
“It’s a new development.”
“Seems to be a lot of those,” she murmurs, walking toward
the door. Her cat appears by her feet, yowling. “Come on,
Penny. I’ll give you some food.”
“What about pizza?” I repeat, following her down the
stairs. She goes to the kitchen and opens one of the cupboards.
Penny rubs against her shin as Kinley grabs some treats from a
container. “Why Penny?”
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 something 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.”
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.
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN

K INLEY / 17

I YELP when something red smacks me in the cheek, causing

my laptop to nearly crash onto the floor where I sit on the
carpet against my bed. Thankfully, I catch it in time and note
the licorice sitting beside me. Nose scrunched in confusion I
glance up at the door expecting to see Gavin.
Zach grins from where he leans against the doorframe.
Pulling another Twizzler from the pack, he gets ready to
launch it at me. I wince and peel the earbuds from my ears and
frown at him.
“What are you doing here?” I look at the time in the corner
of my laptop screen, surprised to see that it’s already past
noon. “And why are you wasting perfectly good candy by
throwing it?”
He walks in and plants himself beside me, picking up the
first piece he threw. “I wouldn’t call it a waste.” Brushing off a
few pieces of animal hair, he shrugs and takes a bite.
I make a face.
His eyes go to my laptop screen, then the notebook resting
beside me. “Your mom told me I could come up.”
Eating the tainted candy, he studies my room, noting the
various movie posters on the walls and books on the case
across from us.
 I don’t want to stop writing after spending the past few
weeks locked away finishing this book. Three notebooks full
of ideas left me yearning to pull it all together. It’s my escape
from the constant staring contest I have with my cell phone,
waiting for it to show a message from Corbin.
And as each day passes, nothing appears.
Mom told me to focus on getting something to Jamie, so
that’s what I’ve done. She was happy to see me being
productive the first week, but then I refused to go out with
them or come downstairs for more than a few food breaks.
Gavin showed up and tried bribing me with pizza just to see
me leave the confines of my bedroom, but I wouldn’t budge.
“Your room isn’t what I expected,” he admits, pulling out
more Twizzlers. He offers me one as I close my laptop.
“Do you imagine my bedroom often?”
Hips lips quirk into a devious smile that leaves me rolling
my eyes. “Only every day, Kinley. Come on. I’m breaking you
out of here.”
My eyes widen as I clench my laptop in my arms. “I don’t
know, Zach—”
“I’m going to be honest with you for a minute, so don’t
hate me.” His brows go up in warning. “Your room smells bad
and you look like you haven’t seen the sunlight in years. I’m
worried about you.”
I scoff and get up, setting my laptop on my nightstand and
close my notebook. “I’m fine. You don’t need to worry.”
“When was the last time you went out?”
Blanching, I cross my arms over my chest and silently
consider the answer. Truthfully, I don’t remember. It must
have been when I went to Corbin’s house to see him off two
months ago, which had been as bittersweet as I expected.
He kissed my cheek, gave me a hug, and held my hand as
we walked out to his parents’ car. His dad grabbed his suitcase
and looked between my red-rimmed eyes and Corbin’s sullen
silver ones and gave us a minute to ourselves—a minute where
Corbin told me he’d be back because he loved me.
If I’d only known…
“Exactly.” He jumps up, putting the candy down on my
laptop. “That stuff isn’t that great. I don’t know why you guys
like it. Get changed and brush your hair, we’re leaving.”
“Zach—”
“My mom is part of a craft fair about twenty minutes from
here,” he explains, jabbing his thumb behind him. He stuffs his
hands into the pocket of his jeans. “I guess they have a lot of
different vendors who sell stuff. It’s supposed to be cool and I
told her I’d swing by.”
Seeing my reflection in the mirror attached to my dresser, I
cringe at the state of my hair. He’s right, I look awful. I’ve lost
weight which my family has scolded me for and I’m paler than
normal.
Sighing, I walk over to my dresser and pull out a pair of
jeans and a tee. I notice the victorious grin on his face in the
reflection of the glass. “I don’t want to stay long. And I’m
doing it for my mom because I think she’s going nuts seeing
me here all the time.”
He chuckles. “I’ll take it.”
Walking to the bathroom down the hall, I quickly get ready
and try looking halfway presentable. My hair is combed and
pulled back into a ponytail instead of a bun that resembles a
rat’s nest, and a little gloss adds some color to my lips that
wasn’t there before.
When I walk back in my room, Zach is sitting on my bed
and reading the Stephen King book that I keep on my
nightstand. I don’t know why I haven’t put it away. It isn’t like
I cracked it open since Corbin left.
“Did he corrupt you?” he asks, waving the thick novel
around.
I force a smile. “Can we go?”
 His shoulders curve downward, but he nods and places the
book where he found it before following me downstairs. Mom
tries not to look excited when I tell her we’re going out for a
while.
There’s no interrogation.
No questions asked.
She just says she hopes I have fun.
When we’re at the stoplight down the street, he gestures
toward the gas station. “Do you want anything to snack on?
There might be food at the event if you’re hungry, but I don’t
know for sure.”
I notice Gavin’s truck parked outside and find myself
shaking my head. I’ve been avoiding his I told you so lecture
ever since I realized he was right. The first day with no word
from Corbin, I told myself it was no big deal. He was settling
into a new place and probably busy getting to know people.
Then the second day passed with no text.
A third.
When I called him it went to voicemail.
When I texted it was left unanswered.
A week passed.
A week and a half.
No emails.
Nothing.
Each day, Gavin’s stares would become heavier as he
watched me break a little more. I knew he didn’t want to see
me hurt, but he saw it coming from the start. I was just stupid
enough to believe that he’d be wrong.
“I’m good, but thanks.”
Leaning my head against the warm window, I watch the
scenery pass as we turn onto Main Street and let the gas
station fade in the rearview. And when we pass a little yellow
house that I know too well, I close my eyes.
 Zach’s burning gaze tells me he notices.
But he’s always been a great friend.
He doesn’t say a word.

M Y EYES TRAIN on the table covered with vases of paper

flowers. Zach must notice my attention because he steers us
away from his mom’s station and walks over to the one that’s
caught my interest.
When we near the blonde woman, she smiles at Zach. “I
haven’t seen you come to one of these in a while. Did your
mother finally guilt you into it?”
Zach’s cheeks tint. “Yeah.”
I grin. “So, that’s where you get it from?”
His shoulders lift as he reaches for one of the paper
flowers closest to him. There are so many colors and shapes
that my eyes can’t focus on just one item.
“These are beautiful,” I tell her, picking up one of the roses
and toying with the paint-spattered petal.
“Thank you, sweetie.” She grabs a blue binder from in
front of her and passes it to me. “I do other things as well.
Take a look and see if anything suits your fancy. I give all new
customers a discount on their first purchase.”
Zach looks over my shoulder as I flip through the different
crafts she creates. My fingers still when I turn to a picture of
an origami bird—blue, just like the one I have. My lips part as
I grip the page, crinkling it in my grasp.
“You made this?”
Zach gently takes the binder from me before I can damage
the page any more than I already have.
The woman glances at the page. “Oh, yes. A boy around
your age asked me to make a custom one for his girlfriend. It
was the sweetest thing.”
 I hear Zach cuss under his breath as he closes the binder
and passes it back to her. She accepts it with an easy smile,
unknowing of the sick feeling in my stomach. I try to brush it
off, but it settles until I feel the familiar threat of tears rising.
“We’ll be back, Mary,” Zach tells the woman, draping an
arm around my shoulder and steering us away before I can
start crying.
Sniffing back tears, I whisper, “Sorry. I know you probably
think I’m being stupid. It’s just been…” Not having words to
describe what it’s been like, I just shrug. “Have you heard
from him at all?”
We walk over to a table of refreshments where he grabs us
water. “No. I honestly don’t think it’s personal, Kinley. He
hasn’t spoken to anyone from what I know. Especially if you
haven’t heard anything.”
It’s been almost two months. How could he just ghost me?
Us? It doesn’t make sense to me after I cheered him on all this
time. Thinking back to what I wrote in my notebook, I think,
stupid. I’m so stupid.
Thanking him for the water, we walk over to another table
and look around at the jewelry. It’s a lot of beautiful bead work
that has me running my fingers over the various bracelets.
“I’d buy you something if I had any money to spend,” he
says sheepishly, scratching his jaw. “I’ve been saving up for
textbooks.”
I smile at him the best I can. “That’s sweet, but I don’t
expect you to buy me anything. Plus, it makes sense to spend
what you have on college stuff.”
We walk away from the jewelry and to another booth
covered in candles. He picks one up and sniffs it, making a
screwed face that I can’t help but laugh at. He shoves it in my
face, causing me to wince at the strong scent permeating the
air.
Moving his hand away, he sets it back down and does the
same with a few others. “You should see the price list for some
of the books I’m required to read. It’s ridiculous.”
 “Are you excited for classes to start?”
He passes me a purple candle. “I’m looking forward to
playing on their football team. Not so much on the classes.”
Grinning, I read the lilac label on the bottom of the candle.
It’s Mom’s favorite scent, so I dig for some money and pass it
to the man behind the table. He passes me the change and puts
the candle in a little bag for me to take.
We walk side by side down rows of tables covered in
pamphlets and business cards. “My parents are trying to get
me to apply. I haven’t decided if I am or not.”
“What would you study?”
The guidance counselor asked me the same thing. He went
on a ten-minute rant about there always being something to
learn. It seems pointless to go into debt for something I’m not
set on.
“I’m not sure. English?”
“Would you keep writing?”
“It’s all I want to do,” I answer instantly, finding it easier
to divulge that information to Zach. He isn’t worried about my
future like my parents, so he’s not going to tell me about the
necessity of a backup plan.
“Then do it.”
We stop at a booth with custom signs plastered
everywhere. “I’m not sure it’s that easy. I get why my parents
want me to get an education, but…”
Zach stares at something closest to him before quickly
peeling his eyes away. “Hey, let’s go over—”
Eyeing his dodgy expression, I look around him at a metal
sign hanging on a rack where the vendor stands. My lips tilt
downward when I see the cutout birds next to black scripted
font that says spread your wings, little bird.
He clears his throat. “I think I saw someone selling yarn
over there. It looked very … soft.”
 Unable to stop my laugh before it bubbles out of me, I peel
my eyes from the unfortunate sign and stare at Zach. “Yarn?
Do you secretly knit sweaters or something in your spare
time? I won’t judge if you do. I’ll just need evidence.”
He grumbles and guides us away.
“Hey, Zach?”
“Yeah?”
I take a deep breath and wrap my arm around his as we
walk over to the yarn on display a few tables down. “Thank
you.”
He looks over, brows drawn inward in confusion. “For
what?”
Grazing the soft green skein of yarn in front of me, I
whisper, “Being my friend. I know I haven’t been the greatest
one to you, so it means a lot to me that you did this.”
He pulls on my arm. “You’ll have to make it up to me by
buying me food when we leave here.”
I grin and pick up some yarn. “Are you sure you don’t
want this instead? I think green is your color, Mr. Russo.”
He groans.
I smile. For real this time.
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN

K INLEY / Present

M Y OFFICE DOOR cracks open as I sit at my desk and read

through the words on my screen. Thumb nail between my
teeth, I turn to look at Corbin as he peeks his head in. Penny
immediately jumps from where she’s perched beside me and
walks over to him.
Traitor.
He notices the word document pulled up and smiles,
kneeling to fuss over the cat. “Are you working on your new
book?”
Drawing my thumb away, I turn in my chair to face him.
He’s been here for almost a week, and in that time he’s
watched me sit in my office and stare at my computer
struggling to find the right words to write. I’ve managed to
write five chapters that I’m proud of, but the rest comes with
emotional attachments that I find myself drowning in. When I
give up, Corbin kisses me, touches me, and sends my body in
a frenzy of need that leaves us in a tangle of limbs and pants,
chasing highs with our bodies.
“Something like that. Jamie likes to remind me I have
deadlines to make. No pressure or anything there.”
His chuckle is light. “I know that well. Eddie does the
same thing with me when my schedule is booked up. When
does it have to be done by?”
 My stomach drops. “Soon.”
Instead of pressing, he stands with Penny in his arms. I can
hear her loud purrs from here as she nuzzles his chin with her
nose. “You’ll get it done. I believe in you.”
Such simple words go straight to my heart, making it
squeeze tightly in my chest. I clear my throat and save my
document before closing my laptop. “What comes next?”
His eyes light up. “I can think of a few things, Little Bird.
All involving a lot less clothing.”
I stand up and wrap the throw blanket around me tighter.
“We need to be serious. What happens now? What do we say
to people?”
We told each other we’d give it time. In that time, three
more articles have surfaced with pictures of me and him.
Headlines waged a larger war between fans of Corbin and
Lena and me, and most of them aren’t in my favor. Since he
arrived, we’ve lost ourselves in the mayhem our hearts have
walked us right into and formed no real plan as to how to
survive it all. Eventually, we’ll have to make those decisions
instead of hiding in my house ordering delivery and cooking
with what little food I keep stocked.
He sets Penny down much to her dismay, standing back up
and reaching out for me. “I think we have to ask ourselves
what we’re willing to say.”
Willing? My face screws as he tugs me to the bedroom. I
dig my heels in and shake my head, knowing the likelihood of
my treacherous body climbing onto his and stripping us bare is
too likely if we close ourselves in there. Every morning my
body is so worked up it needs release, and more times than not
I find myself climbing onto his lap and guiding his hard cock
inside of me and riding him until we’re both sweaty and
insatiable from the hormones and emotions swirling between
us. Neither one of us complains because we need it—the
feelings, the touches, the way we hold each other after.
So, I walk toward the stairs instead. He doesn’t argue, just
follows with our hands still tangled together.
 Guiding us to the living room, I sit down in the furthest
corner of the couch near all my decorative pillows and hold
one to my stomach. It’s grown a lot this month, and I can only
imagine how much larger I’ll get by the time I near the second
trimester’s end in less than two months. It’s become second
nature to cover myself and I don’t know why. It’s become
nearly impossible to hide the undeniable bump under even my
baggiest shirts. But I can tell by Corbin’s disapproving stare
that he’s not okay with me hiding anything.
He settles in beside me, keeping our fingers interwoven on
his leg. “I need Lena to sign the papers. That’s what’s next.
Once that happens we can say and do what we want.”
“What if she doesn’t?”
Pressing his lips together, he loosens a sigh. It doesn’t
make me feel better. If they both truly wanted this separation,
those papers would be signed by now. She’s angry, rightfully
so. I doubt she’ll concede anytime soon.
“I can’t hide in my house for the rest of this pregnancy,
Corbin.” My free hand keeps the pillow pressed against me. “I
won’t be able to hide it. People will see me and ask
questions.”
His head slowly nods. “We haven’t talked about all the
details, have we? Like if it’s…” To my surprise, his eyes are
glassy when I look at him. “Do you know what you’re—we’re
—having?”
Swallowing, I shake my head. “It’s too early. They
wouldn’t be able to see anything until sixteen to twenty weeks
in, so the earliest I’d find out is my next appointment if the
baby is positioned right.”
He doesn’t say anything.
“We do that too much.”
His head cocks. “What?”
“Rush into the wrong priorities. Struggle to communicate
when it matters,” I answer quietly, playing with the fringe on
the pillow.
 “That’s not—”
“What happens if she doesn’t sign?”
He squeezes my hand. “Then other people will get
involved. She can’t force me to stay married, Kinley.
Eventually she’ll get tired of her charade. But…” His thumb
brushes the back of my hand leisurely. “You and I are going to
need to talk to our managers about the repercussions of a
worst-case scenario situation.”
The beat of my heart speeds. “Like?”
Instead of looking at me, his gaze stays on our hands. “I
used to say we’d be the talk of the town. I didn’t mean like
this.”
“Corbin,” I press.
“We both know that things will be rough one way or
another for us. My manager already told me that I need to give
it time before going public with you, but—”
“What?” I screech, eyes narrowing. “You told your
manager about me? Do you really think that’s a good idea?”
“He guessed,” he insists.
“He guessed.” My deadpan expression causes him to shrug
like it’s not a big deal. Maybe he thinks his money will silence
him, but I know what happened to his first manager. Mark
King is locked up for a reason. He isn’t a good man. People
will do anything for money.
My internal freak out must be lost on him because he
replies, “I guess I’m not as good of an actor as I thought I was
when it comes to my feelings.”
Scoffing, I pull my hand away. “Well alert the damn
media. Let that be the lead story instead of my face for a
change.”
“Kinley, come on.”
“I haven’t said a word about you,” I say, hugging the
pillow close to me.
Hurt resonates in his features.
 My jaw ticks. “All I’m saying is that we need to be careful
about who knows what. Jamie has no idea about our current
situation because I haven’t known what to say. There’s a lot I
need to tell her, but the time isn’t right.”
“When is the time going to be right?”
“I…” I look down. “I’m not sure.”
He takes the pillow away and pins me with firm eyes.
“There’s never going to be a good time to tell the world that I
married somebody I don’t love much less that I cheated on her
with somebody that I always have.”
My lips part.
“We’ve done this all wrong,” he agrees, blowing out a
breath and swiping a palm down the side of his face. “But
we’re not going back because we’ve already done that. This is
our time now. Finally.”
“It’s also our battle.”
“But we’ll survive it.”
I know where this is going before he even speaks the
words because of the mischievous glint in his silver eyes.
“Some people don’t survive because they’re too busy looking
over their shoulder. We have each other.”
Rolling my eyes, I shove his shoulder at the familiar lines.
“You’re such a dork for remembering that.”
He winks. “It’s my job, baby.” His fingers squeeze mine,
lining our palms up and cupping our hands. “It’s also
something I believe. If you wrote it, deep down I think you do
too.”
“I didn’t know I’d see you again then.”
“But you wanted to.”
He doesn’t need me to confirm it.
I just hold his hand.
I FLUTTER my eyes open when I hear a voice muttering from
outside the living room. Peeling myself off the couch, I stretch
my arms and walk over to the archway. My head peers around
the wall, seeing Corbin’s tense back.
The house is bathed in darkness from nightfall, but the cell
phone in Corbin’s hand radiates light against his face. “…not a
good time. Don’t worry about it, okay? It’s none of your
business.”
I can hear someone talking on the other end, causing
Corbin’s shoulders to lock up. His hand goes to his hair, a
telltale sign he’s getting worked up by whatever conversation
he’s having.
“I don’t want to talk about her,” he growls, walking over to
the window. Moving the curtain aside, he stares into the night.
There’s nothing to see but an empty backyard and trees.
Whatever the person tells him has his fist forming a ball
against where it rests against the wall. Frowning, I study his
tense stature and wonder who’s on the other line. Lena?
Somebody else?
Corbin cuts off the mystery caller. “What the hell do you
expect me to do then? Obviously your first suggestion was
wasted on deaf ears. I’m not going to apologize for coming
here.”
He pulls the phone back and cusses. “I have to go, Eddie.
Just … keep this between us, okay? I don’t need people
figuring out where I am and I’m not leaving until I’m ready
regardless of what you say.”
Before Eddie can answer, Corbin presses a button and
hefts out a sigh. Placing the phone back to his ear, he says,
“Hello, Lena.”
My eyes widen as I use the wall for support. His forehead
is pressed against the wall in pure defeat. Did I do that to him?
A heavy feeling settles over me as he listens to what his wife
says.
His hand slides down the wall, clenching and unclenching.
“Can you please just see reason here. I—” Grumbling
something under his breath, he pushes off the wall.
I turn just before he sees me, listening to his footsteps
creak against the hardwood. They don’t come near me though.
I’m not sure if I’m grateful or not. He either doesn’t want to
wake me or to hear their conversation.
“You already know how I feel.”
A pause.
“The answer is no.” His voice is hard, definite. I’ve never
heard it that way before. “I know I made that clear before.”
Wood scraping on wood must mean he’s sitting down at
the table. When I dare a peek, his head is in one of his hands. I
want to walk in and comfort him, but I have no place.
He’s talking to his wife.
Arguing.
Because of me.
Nostrils twitching, I keep my back against the wall and
stare at the floor. Wiggling my toes into the carpet, I loosen a
quiet sigh and close my eyes.
Corbin’s voice breaks the silence. “Do what you have to do
then if you’re insistent on dragging this out. I’m sorry, Len. I
can’t keep doing this with you. We had an agreement. I
thought we both— Don’t you think I get that? It isn’t like I
wanted to hurt you and deep down I don’t think you ever
wanted to hurt me. I know a lot of this is my fault, so I
understand why you’re doing this. But it won’t change
anything between us. If anything, releasing more of those
photos will make us worse.”
My front teeth dig into my bottom lip. Photos? He sounds
guilt-ridden, something I’ve come to know the sound of well.
What does that say about me? About us? That we’re ruled by
an emotion constantly enough that it can be identified so
easily?
“I wish I could make this better,” he whispers, voice
cracking. “But I know nothing can. Let’s be honest with each
other, Lena. We’re wasting both of our time with this
marriage. It shouldn’t be a charade to play with the public.
This is our lives. It—”
The sound of something slamming against a hard surface
causes me to jump, covering my mouth with my hand before I
can yelp. Taking a deep breath, I peek around the corner and
see Corbin’s fist against the table. His body is tight as his hand
shakes where it rests.
“I guess that’s it then.”
My lips part.
“You’re not who I thought I loved.”
I frown.
His head dips down. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But it
should have been more. I accept my hand in what I’ve done to
fail this marriage—fail you. But don’t act like you’re innocent,
Lena. I know you better than that. We can both say we loved
each other once upon a time, but it was never real.”
My heart breaks for him. One of my hands cups my
stomach as I watch him clench his phone before loosening it in
his hold. “Goodbye, Len. I’ll…”
The phone moves from his ear as he stares at the screen for
a long moment before he shakes his head and sets it down. He
scrubs both hands down his face and stays like that.
Slowly, I make my way into the room. I don’t bother with
the lights, letting us stay in the darkness where we belong.
When I sit down at the table, I reach over and pull his hands
away from his face.
“I’m sorry,” he speaks softly.
I shake my head, holding his hand. “You don’t need to
apologize to me. If anything, I should say I’m sorry for
everything.”
His brows furrow. “Why?”
My tongue swipes across my chapped lips, embracing the
sting that accompanies the subtle movement. “I knew what the
circumstances were and didn’t stop. We both should have been
rational, and we weren’t.”
“Don’t say you regret it.”
I shrug. “I regret hurting people.”
“And what about us?”
Considering my answer thoughtfully, I take a deep breath
and look at our hands. “Your mom told me a long time ago
that it’s not good to live with regret because it stops you from
succeeding. I’ve never regretted us. Not even now. Not even
when I should.”
“Mom is a smart woman.”
I smile at that. “Sometimes I think my family wonders why
I don’t hate you. When I told them about the movie deal they
were in disbelief but not as much as when I announced the
casting.”
Mom just blinked at me and Dad grumbled under his
breath. But it was Gavin who shook his head and told me it
was a bad idea to see it being filmed. I wonder now if he was
worried I’d find out the truth.
“I’ve thought about that too,” I admit, playing with the
smattering of dark hair on his hand. “But I realize now that
you must really love someone when you can’t even hate them
for breaking your heart.”
He flips our hands and webs out fingers together, radiating
his warmth into me. “Sounds like a line from your book.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Exactly.”
My lips twitch.
Corbin taps my hand with one of his fingers, getting me to
glance up at him. His eyes leak the silver tone from them,
filling the orbs with melted lead and something else.
Sadness.
 My curiosity gets the better of me. “What pictures were
you two talking about?”
The muscles in his jaw ticks. “I really don’t think that
matters in the grand scheme of things, Little Bird.”
My brows furrow. “Why not?” In my mind, that must
mean they matter too much. And I want to know why.
“Kinley—”
“Tell me, Corbin. Now.” I’m tired of him keeping secrets,
whether in some twisted way it’s his way of protecting me or
not, I still deserve to know.
His head drops down. “Lena hired somebody to take
pictures of us on set. The stuff you’ve seen in the media is
because of her.”
My lips part but nothing leaves them. I just blink and stare
at him as he avoids my eyes, one of his hands scrubbing down
his face as he shakes his head.
My conscience tells me, you deserve that.
But it doesn’t stop the rest of me from soaking in the shock
of it all. Because his wife knew something was going on and
led the press right to the story.
“Why?” I whisper. “If she wanted to keep her name clean,
then why would she do that? I don’t…”
“This industry is dark,” he informs me, finally lifting his
head to meet my gaze. “My wife pretends to be sweet, but
she’s as corrupted as the rest of us. It’s blackmail, Kinley. The
kind that we can’t afford to feed into.”
I’m not sure what to say to that.
“I know what we have to do, Little Bird.”
Drawing back, I swallow the creeping anxiety that rises up
my throat. The way he says it tells me I need to be prepared.
But prepared for what? When his lips part, I know.
“They’ll forgive us,” he tells me.
And he doesn’t need to say who.
The world.
One day … the world will forgive us.
 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

C ORBIN / Present

E DDIE : Are you sure about this?

Eddie: A press release of this magnitude isn’t going to
keep your personal life out of the press. I’m not fucking
magic.
Corbin: I’m sure.
Eddie: I sure hope you know what you’re doing because
I’ve given up trying to figure it out.
I look over at Kinley, listening to her soft snores and
thinking about how I could get used to this. And I can’t get
used to it Lena’s way. So, there’s no hesitation or second
thought.
Corbin: Lena will make this public regardless
Eddie: Warned you about her, son
Rolling my eyes, I recall the always watch out for the
pretty ones talk he gave me when I showed him the ring—the
ring that Lena hinted she liked multiple times. She’d always
wanted this life, and I let her pull me in with the promise of a
new start.
I didn’t need a fresh start.
I needed a do-over.
Eddie: You better get ready for hell. Kinley too
 Corbin: Nobody can get ready for that
Eddie knows he can’t argue with me about the reality
we’re about to face head on. But if there’s one thing I’ve
learned best in this industry, it’s to take control of the situation.
If we give that to Lena, I lose to a rumor mill that will bury
Kinley and me six feet under before we get a chance to say a
word.
I know that we deserve nothing less than the judgement
we’ll receive. But it’s also plausible that we won’t be as bad
off as Eddie assumes. The outlets will eat up any statement we
make and run with it in any way they can to make money. But
that doesn’t have to break us.
The truth is, we aren’t the first couple to cause a stir in
Hollywood, and we won’t be the last. It doesn’t matter what
morals are thrown out the window to wreak havoc in the
media. We’re human. We make mistakes.
And right now, I’m fixing them.
Eddie: I’ll get something drafted to send first thing in the
morning. Kinley will need to look at it too since this involves
her.
Eddie: This isn’t going to be easy
Corbin: It’s worth it
Eddie: What changed from before?
Kinley stirs, causing me to peel my eyes away from my
phone. She rolls onto her back, the blanket revealing her
stomach in the thin sleep shirt she wears. My hand gently rests
on the bump, my chest tightening with emotion.
“Everything,” I whisper.
Focusing on the phone, I type out a quick reply and turn
off the screen. I ignore the oncoming messages that follow
because I don’t want to spend my night with Eddie.
I want to spend it with Kinley.
My little bird.
My little birds.
 Laying down on my side facing the girl who’s plagued my
mind since my first day at Lincoln, I stare at the bump where
our baby grows. “I know you probably can’t hear me right
now, but I promise not to mess up anymore. This is it for us.
Your mom, you, me…” I swallow past the lump in my throat
and whisper, “We’re a family.”
Kinley’s hand reaches out and finds mine, surprising me.
Neither of us says a word when she moves my palm to her
stomach and flattens it against her. Her hand stays on mine just
like that until we fall asleep.

T HE PRESS RELEASE draft arrives in my inbox as I’m cracking

eggs into the frying pan. Trying to focus on the sizzling sound,
rather than the statement that will speak a truth the public
probably isn’t anticipating, is hard.
I only slept for a few hours before finding my way to
Kinley’s office, so I didn’t wake her. Insomnia isn’t usually a
problem I deal with since my long days shooting tend to wear
me out by the time I get back to my condo or hotel, but the
reality of our situation leaves me too uneasy to rest.
Finishing the scrambled eggs and toast, I plate both our
breakfasts and search the cabinets for a tray to carry them
upstairs with. Digging through the cupboard under the sink, I
don’t expect to hear a voice directly behind me.
“What are you looking for?”
Slamming the back of my head against the cabinet as I
veer back, I wince and stand up. Rubbing the tender spot, I
turn to Kinley and note her sleepy expression. Her gaze drifts
to steaming eggs, causing her lips to tug upward.
“I was making you breakfast in bed.”
Her nose scrunches.
“What is it?”
She shrugs, walking into the kitchen and examining the
food closely. “I’m just not used to this, I guess.”
 I move hair out of her face. “Nobody has made you
breakfast in bed?”
The irrational part of me is happy over something so
mundane. It means I get to be that man for her. But the other
part feels bad that no other man has thought to do this.
She takes one of the plates and walks into the dining room.
I follow her after grabbing two glasses and the orange juice.
“Has Lena made you breakfast in bed?”
She has, but I don’t tell Kinley that.
Pouring us drinks, I walk back into the kitchen and put
away the juice before grabbing my own plate. She’s moving
her eggs around her plate with the fork, lost in her own world.
“What’s wrong, Little Bird?”
She stops fussing and grabs her drink to take a sip. I know
her well enough to know that she’s stalling, so I wait. “This is
just strange. We’ve never done this before. The whole…” Her
lips twitch as she tries finding the right word. “I don’t know,
the domestic thing.”
I chuckle and pick up my fork. “There’s a lot we haven’t
done that I have every intention of doing with you.”
Her face turns red, making me laugh. In all honesty, I
meant nothing dirty by it. But I can tell the thoughts running
through her head are anything but clean. The side of her I’ve
seen since coming here a week ago only cements the fact that
we’ve grown up.
“Anyway,” she says, “it feels like we’re playing house.
Does this feel real to you?”
Clearing my throat, I unlock my phone and slide it to her.
“It’s about to. I spoke with my manager last night and he sent
over a release for our approval. If it looks okay, then he’ll
submit it to the proper channels. We’ll need to do at least one
interview.”
Her lips part as she skims the email on my phone, shaking
her head and pushing it away. She drops her fork onto the
plate, the clink echoing in the otherwise quiet room. “No.”
 My brows pinch. “I thought we—”
“We can’t do it like this,” she states, crossing her arms
over her chest.
I look from my phone to her. “But we discussed it and you
agreed. Something has to be done before Lena makes the first
move, Kinley. We can’t wait.”
“Gavin announced he was engaged online before he told
any of us,” she blurts.
I just blink.
Her shoulders drop as she sighs. “My parents were really
upset to find out that way. I told myself any big news they hear
would come from me first before it goes on social media. It’s
bad enough I shut them out when I got home.”
“You had your reasons,” I reply quickly, understanding
that she needed time. Telling her that I don’t tell my parents
everything won’t help the situation. We’re two different people
and the circumstances between our families aren’t the same.
“What exactly are you saying?” I ask slowly, knowing
where this is going but needing the confirmation.
Her eyes stay locked on the plate. “I haven’t been a good
daughter lately and that needs to change. Our parents need to
hear this from us before the media gets ahold of it.”
Appetite wavering, I click my tongue.
“You know it’s the right thing to do.”
“I’m not the best decision maker when it comes to the
right thing, Little Bird.” Her frown deepens, making me relent.
“We’ll go as soon as you want to. But Eddie says if we’re
going to do this, it needs to be soon.”
She picks up her fork and scrapes it around the plate before
stabbing the eggs. “When do you need to go back to
California? I’m sure you have plenty of work.”
The way she asks has my heart constricting. Does she
think I’m going to walk out and that’s it? “Little Bird, look at
me.”
 She doesn’t.
Holding back a sigh, I push my plate away and stare at her
despite her insistence to avoid my gaze. “We are not about to
turn our lives upside down for nothing. Think about it, Kinley.
How many people in our positions get these chances? Not
many.”
“It’s not impossible—”
“Did you try reaching out?”
She presses her lips together.
“We both thought it was for the better,” I say, wishing it
weren’t true. We could have been together, but those thoughts
are pointless to have.
“Yeah,” she murmurs, picking at her toast. The butter
melted into the bread seemingly has her transfixed.
“We’re here. We’re doing this.”
Her head picks up. “So…?”
Shoulders tight, I say, “We’ll go to Lincoln tomorrow and
talk to our families. You’re right. They need to hear it from us
first.”
I can tell she’s relieved, but the tight feeling in my chest
only intensifies. Seeing Mom I can handle. Dad is an entirely
different story.
Kinley must sense that. “We’ll get through this together.
We don’t have any other choice at this point.”
Licking my lips, I nod once. “How much do you think
your parents hate me? On a scale from one to ten?”
She rolls her eyes. “I think they had it out for you for a
while, but they’re over it. You may not believe it, but I do. The
only people who haven’t moved on from us is … us.”
Sounds about right.
“And Gavin?” I press, knowing that will be trickier
because of our sordid past. He’s made his feelings clear from
the start. Regardless of the rift between he and Kinley, I doubt
those feelings about me have changed. I’m sure they’ve
become tenfold.
Her nostrils twitch in the tiniest way, but she sits up and
gives me the best smile she can muster under the
circumstances. “My mom said something when she came over
that made a lot of sense. He’s my brother. We’ve both made
mistakes, and I don’t want to ruin our relationship by staying
mad. Especially not if I want him in our baby’s life.”
The Kinley Thomas I’ve always loved sits before me, her
heart of gold always offering room for forgiveness. I never
thought we’d be here even having a conversation that makes
me fall in love with her even harder than I already am. And
that’s when it’s cemented that we’ll survive even in the
roughest storm. I find new ways to love her when I didn’t
know loving her any more than I do was possible.
Like always, Kinley proves me wrong.
 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

K INLEY / 17

W ITH SOME REVISIONS , this book will sell, Kinley.

I try taking the news the best way I can, but knowing that I
need to change what I’ve bled onto paper leaves me feeling
anything but good. The full notebooks littering my bedroom
have this story plotted exactly how I want it.
It’s raw.
But it’s real.
And Jamie wants me to change it.
“Kinley?” she says, snapping me out of it.
Nibbling on my bottom lip, I hold my cell a little tighter.
“Sorry, I’m here. What kind of changes exactly? I thought it
was good…”
“It’s not a bad draft, Kinley,” she insists lightly, typing
something on her keyboard. “The editor I spoke to is interested
in looking it over again when the suggestions are taken into
consideration. In fact, she thinks it’ll be a good fit for the
company down the line if you just add something a little more
to it.”
My jaw locks. I know I shouldn’t take it personally that
somebody wants me to work on my book. This is only the
second draft—lightly edited by me and revised when I reread
it the first time around. But the story leaks a truth that I don’t
want altered in any way.
“What about a different editor?”
“Kinley—”
“I know I’m asking for a lot,” I cut her off, straightening in
the office chair Dad bought me for the spare room. He and
Gavin found some secondhand furniture for me to create a
little office next to my bedroom. “I just think the story is good
as it is. I mean, sure, there are some typos and errors, but the
plot shouldn’t need to be changed. What more could she
want?”
She sighs, and I can only imagine what her face looks like.
Is it pinched with irritation? Is she fed up with the teenager she
took on? I wince at the possibilities.
“As you know, the manuscript was rejected as is by three
other publishers,” she finally says. “I told you that some of
these houses will be hard to reach, but this woman’s interest is
a good sign. You could sign with Rave Publishing if you just
work with them on this. Her notes are very helpful, Kinley.
She thinks if you added a larger conflict it could heighten the
development of the couple. Right now, she feels like Beck and
Ryker fall a little flat.”
Pressing my lips together, I close my eyes and take a deep
breath. I’d be stupid to turn down this opportunity just because
of personal opinions. And, realistically, I had the slightest
doubt in my couple’s relationship development when I revised
it. I knew it was because the story I started writing was one I
felt from the heart, and the happy ending I gave them was
forced at best.
“I’m forwarding you her notes,” she tells me, clicking a
few times before my phone buzzes with a new email alert.
“Look them over and see what you think. I’m telling you this
is good news. I have a great feeling about this potential
working relationship. In six months, we’ll resubmit—”
“Six months?”
 “There are limits as to how many times we can submit the
same book to a company,” she explains, typing again. “They
have a six-month waiting period. That gives you time to focus
on revisions without being stressed. Just follow what she
commented on in the manuscript and replot certain elements. I
know you can do it. Plus, you’re in your senior year now.
Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your upcoming graduation
that I’m sure your parents want you to focus on more.”
I make a face in the empty room I wallow in. School
started last week, and everything is different. I expected to be
met by pitied stares because everyone knew that my only two
friends graduated. I mentally prepared myself to eat in the
library instead of the cafeteria because I have nobody to sit
with.
But people talked to me.
Complimented me.
It’s … foreign.
“Do we have a deal?”
I want to grumble under my breath, but showing my age
isn’t exactly the reminder I want to give Jamie as to what she
got herself into. I want to prove that age isn’t a limit—that
there are no boundaries with me. So, I agree.
“We’ll plan another day for you to come up here when it
fits into your schedule,” she adds, whatever work ceasing as a
voice speaks in the background. “We can discuss the notes
more another day. The new interns have arrived, and I have
feeling half of them will wish they found a different agency to
assist.”
My lips waver in an almost-smile.
I can hear shuffling on her end. “Maybe you’ll meet some
of them when you come here next. Until then, please keep an
open mind when you go through the notes.”
I want to tell her that’s unlikely but say goodbye instead
and stare at the email. Rather than opening it, I walk out of the
room and down the hall. Changing into something warmer for
the cooler weather, I slip into my shin-high boots and walk
downstairs.
Mom and Dad look up from the papers they read at the
kitchen table, their eyebrows raised. It’s Dad who glances at
the large silver watch that always rests on his tan wrist and
asks, “Where are you off to?”
“Meeting with Zach?” Mom guesses.
I nudge the floor with my foot. “I was actually wondering
if I can get another driving lesson. It’ll be good for me to
practice more.”
Dad folds up the paper and sets it down on the table. “We
can go down to the old Game Club and drive around.”
I smile. “Okay.”
I try to ignore Mom’s growing smile as she goes back to
her paper. She’s been hinting at me getting out more all
summer. Then Zach would magically appear within hours like
they have some code word.
But I always go.
For Mom, not for me like I should.
Dad drives us down the street, turning onto a dirt road that
leads to a cabin and pond where the town used to host a lot of
events. There is still quite a bit of hunters that use the land
during the season, but the cabin is run down and the pond
doesn’t offer more than tiny sunfish and litter these days.
Once we’re far enough up the road, he pulls over and
switches spots with me. When we’re both buckled in, he gives
me some initial instructions before I begin the lesson.
It’s a few minutes into me just driving around and getting a
feel for everything when he asks, “What made you want to do
this?”
I glance at him for a moment before maneuvering a three-
point turn like he told me to. The last time I did this I almost
landed us in a ditch. Gavin would have had a field day if we
called him asking to tow us out.
 Freedom, I answer silently.
“It’s time,” is what I say aloud. “Gavin got his license
when he was sixteen. I’ve barely driven anywhere, and I suck
at it.”
Dad laughs. “Your brother has also been driving a tractor
since he was ten. Don’t give yourself a hard time.”
He doesn’t need to remind me about how much Gavin’s
done. When I turned sixteen, Gavin gave me his driving
manual to read over so I could take the written test for my
permit. I didn’t have interest then and got lectured about how
he’s been driving for years on the farm.
“Yeah, I know he did.”
We drive around in silence for a few minutes. “How’s the
writing thing going?”
Half of my lips quirk up. I love it when Dad asks me about
my writing. Unless I offer up the conversation at home, the
only time I speak about it is when it’s just him and me.
“I spoke with Jamie before we left.”
“And?”
I try not frowning but fail. “The woman she submitted my
book to told me I need to revise it. It’ll take at least six months
before she even reads it again. Maybe more.”
Dad shifts, looking out the windshield. “I suppose that’s
not a bad thing. You’re going to be busy with school anyway.”
Humming out a non-reply, I nod my head.
“It sounds like she’s interested though.”
“Six months is a long time.”
I remember having this very conversation with Corbin
when he complained about graduation being so far away. Now
that he’s gone, it feels like the time I had with him passed too
quickly. But I bet he preferred it that way since he wanted out
since the day he stepped foot into our small town.
My grip tightens on the wheel.
 “It’ll pass before you know it,” Dad promises.
I don’t agree, but I let it go. It’s just my bitterness leaving
me in a foul mood. I thought I’d have better news to share
with my family by now—something to show for all the work
I’ve done the past few months on my book. Like I’d have a
book deal or promise of one to celebrate so my parents would
smile and congratulate me. Maybe we’d go out to eat to
celebrate like they did when Gavin first got co-ownership of
the farm.
Instead, I have nothing except revisions plaguing me.
Revisions that still boil my blood the more I think about it.
What kind of conflict does she want me to give them? Their
love story is already riddled with tension.
When Dad clears his throat and shifts for a third time in
the short amount we’ve been here, I know I’m about to have a
conversation I don’t want to. “Have you heard from him?”
Staring at the road ahead of me, I debate on lying or
stalling to answer. Dad would know better though. If not by
my hesitation, by the strong grip that turns my knuckles white.
“No. From what his mom says, he’s been put to work quite a
bit doing small roles and commercials.”
He makes an effort with me that nobody else has, but it’s
feeble at best given my reluctance to entertain the topic. “That
sounds exciting for him.”
“It is,” I relent.
Silence.
“You know—”
“Can we not?” I ask awkwardly, twisting my grip on the
wheel until an eerie squeal sounds from the movement.
He sighs, clearly not wanting to relent but doing so
anyway. He’s told me before that bottling up my feelings
doesn’t get me anywhere. But he told me that when I’d gotten
into a fight with Mom. Not Corbin. It’s different. “Sure, kid.”
I turn on the radio and let the music drown out the silence
between us. It doesn’t ease the screaming thoughts haunting
my mind.

T HE LIGHT LAYER of fresh snowfall coating the pavement and

small tree branches planted along the side of the bustling Big
Apple streets has me smiling as I walk toward the familiar
skyscraper. It no longer intimidates me as I near its large
structure because I know today is different.
Gavin and his new girlfriend Kayla agreed to stay behind
and look around some of the storefronts while I met with
Jamie, and I was thankful. If it hadn’t been for Kayla insisting
that I didn’t need a babysitter, Gavin would have planted
himself in the same chair he did last time until I was ready to
go.
Shoving my gloved hands into the pockets of my down-
filled coat, I walk through the carousel door and smile at the
security guard sitting at the desk off to the side. He simply
nods in acknowledgment as I walk toward the elevators and
press the up button.
A dark-haired guy in a fitted black button peacoat and light
gray slacks walks up beside me as the elevator makes its
decent. Nerves prickle the back of my neck as I offer him a
tiny smile. He doesn’t hesitate to smile back, giving me a
quick once over with his equally dark brown eyes that I think I
may have imagined before he looked forward again.
But the corners of his lips twitch into a wider smile that I
note from his profile. And it’s a nice profile. Full lips, squared
face, and a straight nose that looks like it may have been
broken at one point in his lifetime. His skin is darker than
mine by a few shades, making my already milky skin look
worse since winter took over and hid the sun.
I bite down on my inner cheek and wait for the doors to
open. When they do, he gestures for me to walk in first. My
fingertips tingle in my pockets as he follows me in, keeping a
decent distance between us at opposite corners of the elevator.
“What floor?” he asks me, getting ready to press one of the
buttons on the panel in front of him.
 “Eight,” I squeak out, feeling heat creep over my face from
the mewled response. Clearing my throat, I wince when his
gaze drifts toward me, brows raised.
“Eight?” he repeats. I just nod and swear he says huh
before stepping back. He never pushed a second button.
We ride up the eight stories in silence, both our hands in
our pockets. Once in a while I’ll sneak a peek his way,
wondering why he’s going to Jamie’s floor. He could be
another author. I don’t know everybody that the agency
represents, so it’s plausible.
When the doors open, the same receptionist I saw before
looks up at us. She smiles at me, but keeps her gaze locked on
the man walking directly behind me. “Parker, Ms. Little—”
“Parker,” Jamie says from somewhere close by, coming
out of one of the side offices near the elevators. “So nice of
you to join us.”
The guy blushes. “Jeff told me I didn’t need to come in the
usual time because there were meetings I wasn’t needed at,
ma’am.”
Jamie walks over to us, one of her brows quirked in a way
that says is that right? “Is Jeff your boss or am I?”
The guy, Parker, swallows. “You are.”
“Correct. Just because you’re in the publicist division
doesn’t mean you can come in whenever you see fit. I’ll make
sure Jeff knows as much before giving the interns free range.
And what did I say about calling me ma’am? “
“Not to?”
“Correct again, Mr. Jennings.”
I shift on my feet, feeling uncomfortable bearing witness
to this awkward exchange. Jamie doesn’t seem to care that
she’s reprimanding somebody in front of me, but I feel bad for
the guy. I wouldn’t want anyone seeing me get scolded if I
were in his shoes.
She finally turns to me as I peel off my winter gloves and
stick them in my pockets for safe keeping. “Kinley, I’m glad
you could make it. I’m not sure if you’ve properly met, but
this is our last remaining intern Parker Jennings. He’ll be with
us for the next two years, isn’t that right?”
Parker glances at me while nodding.
“Parker, this is Kinley Thomas.” I do what I was taught
and hold out my hand. For some reason it takes him by
surprise because he stares at it before sliding his palm into
mine and shaking. Heat blossoms back over my cheeks and
nose over his firm grip, only relenting when we drop our
hands and I stuff mine back into my coat. “She’s one of my
authors who’s here to discuss the book I’ll be representing.”
His brows dart up. “Aren’t you a little young to be an
author?”
Unable to refrain from frowning, I retort, “Aren’t you a
little young to be a publicist?”
Jamie chuckles. “Parker is twenty-one and fulfilling his
internship from NYU. He’ll be working here to gain
experience.”
“Would you like anything to drink?” she asks me.
Before I can answer, Parker says, “I can make a fresh pot
of coffee and bring you some if you’d like.”
My lips part. “Oh. Uh…” I force a smile and give him a
tiny shrug. “I don’t drink coffee actually but thank you.”
“Hot chocolate or tea?” he presses, unbuttoning his
peacoat.
I wouldn’t mind something hot to drink, and since he’s
offering… “I wouldn’t mind a hot chocolate. Thank you.”
He nods and walks away, leaving just Jamie and me. She
gestures toward her office. When we walk inside, she closes
the door behind me and rounds her desk.
I take off my coat and sit down in the same blue chair as
the first time. “It’s a lot warmer here than back home.”
“One of the many advantages of living in the city,” she
remarks, moving some papers out of her way. “I’d like to talk
about the revisions.”
My heart squeezes in a mixture of anxiety and anticipation.
It took me two months to rework the entire thing. I started
from scratch and copy and pasted bits and pieces from the
original manuscript to formulate the new one.
“I love it.”
Eyes popping open, I can only stare.
She nods once, seeing my shock. “What made you choose
to add the cheating element? It brings a new kind of depth that
was missing before and brings these characters to life. You
feel their pain, witness their shortcomings, and still cheer them
on.”
“I…” I lick my lips, struggling to admit the truth. I don’t
want to tell her that I wrote it out of pettiness and assumptions
that might not even be true. The pictures surfacing of Corbin
with different women make it hard to deny though. He never
reached out, showed up, or even tried.
He moved on.
And I felt … cheated.
Yet, I blamed myself. I always do that and hate myself for
putting so much pressure on my shoulders to be what everyone
wants. The truth is, I’m not what Corbin Callum wants. The
girls in those pictures are skinner, prettier, and probably have a
lot more money and time to offer him. They’re not in high
school. They’re probably from his new world—actresses.
“…will do very well. You should be proud of yourself,
Kinley. I am. In fact, I sent the manuscript to Kim at Rave as
soon as I finished it and told her waiting another three months
before reading it was too long.”
Speechless, I just swallow the bitterness of Corbin and the
girls and absorb the pride in Jamie’s eyes. It’s the type of pride
I need to confirm that this is exactly what I worked for. And
it’s … overwhelming in the best way.
Then reality hits me and I slide forward in a new
anticipation that fills the room. “Did she reply? Is she going to
read it sooner? Do you think they’ll pick it up now—”
Jamie laughs and waves me down. “She read the first few
chapters and told me she was drawn in from page one. The
first version was good, Kinley, but not even I knew what you
were capable of until I read this one. Through Shattered Glass
is going to be a huge hit.”
“So…?” I grip my hands together in my lap, waiting for
her to tell me something positive.
She grins. “Kim can’t officially confirm that Rave will
pick it up, but she’s confident that they will once a few others
read it. As soon as I know, I’ll reach out to you.”
My heart is racing so fast that I think it might propel out of
my chest. “You really think it’ll be picked up?”
Leaning back, she rests her hands on her desk and levels
with me. “When have I ever told you something I didn’t
mean? This book is one of the best ones I’ve read in a long
time because of the raw emotion you put into it. For somebody
so young, you have a talent that amazes me.”
Did she just … compliment me?
Jamie Little complimented me.
A huge smile stretches across my face until it physically
hurts. But I don’t care. Because Jamie freaking Little just told
me that my talent amazes her—that my book is the best she’s
read.
“We can take this far,” she continues, reaching for a pen
and writing something down on the notepad beside her.
“There’s no doubt in my mind we can secure audio and foreign
deals through Rave when the time comes. And even better, if
the sales are as good as I think, we can look into film rights as
well.”
“Fi…” I blink. Then blink again.
In fact, I’m tempted to pinch my arm because there’s no
way I’m sitting here in her office discussing any of this. It’s
too good to be true. Being picked up by a publisher is one
thing, but everything else? A movie deal?
 It’s…
She sets her pen down. “This type of book raises the kind
of questions that readers love talking about. The love story you
created is rough around the edges and real, and you’ll get a
vast array of readers.”
My lips part, then close, then open again. There’s a lot I
want to say but can’t verbalize. Do I want something so
personal on blast? I knew it would be if it was picked up, but
the potential of it being brought to life is a dynamic I never in
my wildest dreams could imagine.
“Are you sure it’ll do well?” I hate the doubt in my words,
but at this point that doubt is all that glues me together. “I
mean, it could flop. People don’t like infidelity, and—”
“But they like drama and real love.”
That shuts me up.
“And Beck and Ryker?” She smiles at me, a genuine,
honest-to-God smile. “They share the purest love I’ve ever
seen. I don’t know how you encompassed something so
beautiful at your age, but I’m glad you did.”
Thankfully, before I can even try formulating a response,
somebody knocks on the door before it cracks open.
“I’ve got Kinley’s hot chocolate, ma’—Ms. Little,” Parker
announces, walking in with a large Styrofoam cup in his
hands.
The humor on Jamie’s face as he passes me the warm cup
is lost on me. Parker just smiles at me, nods at Jamie, before
walking out and closing the door behind him.
I eye the cup. “I would have thought offices have those
smaller cups you can buy in bulk for cheap.” Taking a sip of
the rich chocolate, I lick my lips and sit back. “Why are you
making that face?”
Jamie’s lips waver. “We don’t have hot chocolate here.”
Brows pinching, I look from her to the cup, before meeting
her eyes in confusion. “What do you mean?”
 She points to the cup, which I spin to see a logo printed on
the side. “That looks like it’s from the café down the street. We
only have coffee and tea, and frankly, not very good options of
either.”
Oh. Oh. “Well that was nice of him,” I murmur, glancing
over my shoulder at the glass wall behind me. I don’t see him
anywhere, so he must be shadowing whoever he’s assigned to.
“Very,” Jamie muses.
I try to refocus the conversation. “So, you’ll let me know
when Kim gets back to you about the book?”
Despite my nerves, I know I want this far more than I
don’t. No matter how much of myself is inside those pages,
my hesitation is the only thing between me and proving to
everybody that I can make it just like Corbin.
And I will.
But I won’t forget anyone.
“I promise,” Jamie confirms.
And just after the new year, I get an email with
congratulations in the subject line, followed by here’s to the
first step of many.
I’ve been signed.
 CHAPTER NINETEEN

K INLEY / Present

C ORBIN ’ S PHONE goes off for the fifth time in the last half hour
as we pass the Lincoln town sign. Population who knows what
since someone scraped the numbers off and spray painted a
penis where they used to be. Peeling my head away from
where it rests on the passenger window, I glance at him with
pinched brows.
“Do you need to get that?”
He reaches down where his phone rests in the console
between us and glances at the screen after we roll to a stop off
the main drag. “It’s just Mom.”
“What if it’s an emergency?”
He sets his phone down again, shaking his head. “If it
were, she wouldn’t be calling me,” he answers quietly.
His phone doesn’t go off again, leaving me staring out the
window at the businesses that haven’t changed at all. The art
gallery still resides where it used to, the flower shop and café
beside it still bustling with people mulling about the tables
outside and talking with bystanders soaking in the fresh air. It
makes me smile with nostalgia.
But my smile quickly falls when we stop at the red light in
the center of town. If we turn left we’ll be at the gas station
that the town gets everything from—I’ve consumed my weight
in greasy pizza and overpriced Twizzlers from the very
establishment. It’s where Corbin and Gavin encountered each
other before my brother chased him away with lies. The little
white building with one neon open sign flashing like always in
the window is where a lot of memories were made.
If we turn right we’ll drive down the road that I’ve lived
on for most of my life. The same street I’d walk on when the
weather was nice, going nowhere in particular until I found my
way to the gas station with what little change I had on me. It’s
where Gavin and I would ride our bikes up and down the
sidewalk until I’d gotten hurt and stopped riding altogether.
Corbin signals right.
My phone buzzes in my hand, making me nibble my lip
and study the new email from one of Jamie’s people. After
calling her yesterday afternoon and admitting what I’d gotten
myself into, there was a lot of silence. Even Jamie, someone
put together and on top of life, couldn’t have seen the
bombshell I’d dropped.
Her “Oh, Kinley…” is what had me breaking down in the
middle of my office after announcing my pregnancy. Corbin
gave me the space I asked for to deliver the news because I
needed to talk to her on my own. I had to accept that I made
this mess and couldn’t avoid the consequences—
disappointment and all. Especially not with my pregnancy
nearing its halfway point and the images popping up every day
from Lena. How could I keep pretending like I didn’t mess
up? Like we didn’t?
“You should have told me sooner.”
“I didn’t know how.”
“You understand I can’t stop what’s going to happen once
this makes the news, right? And believe me, Kinley, anything
can happen now. No amount of power I hold will stop this
train from derailing.”
And I’d accepted that, telling her I understood. It was
thirty-eight minutes of built up anxiety all pouring from me as
we talked. I told her how sorry I was, and she told me
apologizing wasn’t going to fix this. So, I let her
disappointment absorb into my skin and squeeze my heart.
But I did not cry.
I refused to.
When I asked if I could have control of my email back
because I needed to reach out to a few people, she’d been
hesitant for reasons beyond me but agreed. Hence the current
email I just received from the man who’d taken it over, which
included a new password to access the account I hadn’t needed
to think about in far too long.
And when I logged in, my phone was swarmed with
notification after notification. My eyes widened when I saw
Edward Mansfield’s name in one of the exchange threads
dated from two days ago, marked with utmost importance.
But the bump of rough road pulls me away from the email
in question, guiding my eyes upward to see us traveling down
Alden Street until panic seeps in.
Swallowing my anxiety, I shove my phone in my coat
pocket and reposition in the seat to grab the small bag of
pastries that I bought before we left Lake Roe. It’s not much of
a peace offering, but I couldn’t show up empty handed.
From the corner of my eye, I see Corbin.
Well, not totally empty handed.
“You’re turning blue,” he notes.
The same doctor’s office sits at the corner, followed by a
tiny park with a fountain that broke long before I was born. A
few houses have been updated with fresh paint and new colors
—some yards planted with new flowers, trees, and bushes.
Others never changing at all.
“Breathe,” he instructs, reaching over and squeezing my
knee. I place my hand on top of his and keep it there.
“It’s easier said than done.”
His lips quirk at the sides. “I would have thought you
worked out all your anxiety this morning when you woke me
up by—”
“Can we not talk about that?” I cut him off, feeling my
face heat. I’m already sweating profusely under my clothes, I
don’t need more reasons to drown in my nervous perspiration.
He laughs. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”
“I’m pregnant and horny,” I deadpan, causing him to choke
on his laughter. “And that’s the last thing I want to think about
when we’re about to see my family.”
“Someone’s in a mood,” he muses.
My eyes narrow at him. “I’m about to be in a worse mood
if you don’t be quiet for two seconds. I’m…” Realizing I
sound psycho I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath
before facing him again. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to
expect. A lot of staring. Disappointment. Maybe some cuss
words. I need to know what to anticipate.”
The red house with large tractor tires filled with flowers
makes its appearance. Holding my breath as Corbin slows
down and turns on the blinker, I take in the rusty decorative
windmill and chipped white paint on the enclosed porch I used
to sit in with Dad and watch the thunderstorms.
Everybody’s cars are in the driveway, so Corbin pulls off
to the side of the carport. I know once I get out, I’ll see just
how different his lifestyle is from theirs—a shiny new car
among rusted older models. He shuts off the vehicle and
unbuckles, but I just remain planted in my seat gripping the
pastry box in my hands until my fingertips hurt.
“Little Bird…”
“I should have gotten pie,” I blurt, staring at the assortment
of donuts and muffins. “Gavin prefers pie. Mom too.”
Dad has always loved donuts more. Sometimes my driving
lessons would take us to the town over where we stopped at a
bakery and loaded up on glazed donuts—his favorite. The
same ones that I made sure are inside the box in front of me.
Corbin reaches out and turns my chin toward him. “Your
family isn’t going to care about the lack of pie. They’re
waiting to see you, not what you brought. Which is probably a
good thing since you brought me.”
How can he find this funny? “For all we know you’re
walking into a firing squad. Why aren’t you peeing your pants
or something?”
“That’d be embarrassing for one,” he replies, shrugging
loosely. “And because we can’t change anything that’s
happened. We’ll walk inside hand in hand and take their
reaction together. Good or bad, Little Bird. We’re a team.
There’s no going back.”
He takes the box from me and undoes my seatbelt, giving
me a small head bob of encouragement as he opens his car
door. Knowing I can’t stay in here forever, I do the same and
walk around the front of the car where he stands with an
outreached hand.
The sound of Mom and Dad’s fourteen-year-old chocolate
lab barking as we walk up the front steps has me gripping
Corbin’s hand tighter. He doesn’t seem phased even though I
must be crushing his bones. We both stop at the door, him
looking over at me and me forcing myself to believe we’ll be
okay.
Twisting the door handle, I walk in first with Corbin
directly behind me. Buddy’s wagging tale and whitened fur
greets me, making me smile as I reach out and rub his head.
The hammering of my heart doesn’t ease despite his
excitement to see me.
Dad’s remodel of the mud room makes it more spacious
than it was growing up. Bright green walls greet us with
homemade signs I know they bought from various garage sales
over the years. The wood floor beside the door is lined with
work boots and dirty sneakers and hanging above them are
hooks for coats that Corbin puts his on before turning to me
expectantly.
His eyes tell me what I already know.
With or without the jacket, there’s no denying what’s under
my coat. As I reach for the zipper, footsteps sound on the
kitchen linoleum before stopping behind me. When I turn, Dad
looks between Corbin and I with his gray brows raised before
they drop to my midsection.
“Hi, Dad,” I squeak.
His lips part as he blinks, his throat bobbing over the sight
of me. I try to keep calm, forcing even breathing, and do my
best to smile even though it’s weak. He manages to meet my
eyes with his distant lighter ones, before nodding his head and
rubbing a palm over his graying beard.
Corbin steps forward and stretches his hand toward him.
“It’s nice to see you again, sir.”
He doesn’t say it with any fear, and I wonder if I can soak
up some of his strength for myself. My chest feels heavy as I
watch Dad’s gaze lower to Corbin’s hand. When he finally lifts
his own to shake it, I let out a breath of relief.
“Can’t say I thought I’d see you again,” Dad admits
without any hostility in his words. It’s just a casual statement
—one that I can’t blame him for making. They tried talking to
me about Corbin a lot when I was younger, and I always shut
them down.
They drop their hands and I take the pastries from Corbin.
“I brought you all something. Is, uh, Gavin here? I thought I
saw his truck outside.”
Dad steps aside after accepting the box, examining the
contents through the plastic top. “I told him to stay in the other
room for now. It’s just him. Kayla and Sam are visiting her
parents. We thought it might be best…” His eyes glance at my
torso again before quickly darting away to look in the other
room. “He and your mother are in there waiting. Better take
off your coat. Looks like there’s a lot to discuss.”
Corbin’s hand goes to the small of my back, which Dad
doesn’t miss. He simply purses his lips and nods before
walking back through the kitchen.
With shaky hands, I unzip my jacket and let Corbin help
me out of it. He hangs it beside his and takes my hand. “Good
or bad,” he reminds me, gesturing to toward the voices.
 The sweater I wear is loose enough not to cling too much
to my midsection, but it’s clear as day what’s going on beneath
the scratchy knitted material. Corbin and I walk side by side
toward the voices, the light from the dining room reflecting
from the black linoleum under our feet. I focus on that.
When we near the archway that connects the kitchen and
dining room, all talking ceases. It’s Corbin who powers
through and squeezes my hand once before we stop in front of
everybody. The pastry box sits open between Mom, Dad, and
Gavin on the table.
Gavin blinks as his gaze slowly trails to Corbin. He
doesn’t make a face or say a word. His expression remains
blank.
Mom’s eyes widen when she sees my stomach, and I want
nothing more than to hide behind Corbin. But I don’t. I stick it
out and give her a timid smile, but she doesn’t return it. She
just stares, unblinking, and I can’t figure out what her
expression says.
“Well,” Dad says, gesturing toward the empty chairs at the
other end of the table, “might as well come on in, kids.”
My lips part in surprise as I unwrap my hand from
Corbin’s and walk over to the first chair closest to Mom.
Corbin takes the chair at the end of the table opposite of Dad,
leaving only one open spot between he and Gavin.
The room is eerily quiet.
It’s Corbin who clears his throat. “Kinley and I wanted to
talk to you all about something important before it hits the
papers.”
There’s another pause while my family shifts their
attention to me. They all knew the biggest news because of
Gavin, and they’re smart enough to piece together that
showing up here with Corbin means that something is going
on beyond what their eyes can see. Still, verbalizing that isn’t
any easier.
But I know I need to. Heart thumping violently in my
chest, I take a deep breath. “I know that you aren’t going to be
happy with what I’m about to say, but we made our decision.
It’s pretty obvious that I’m expecting and soon enough a lot of
people are going to learn that too. The things said about us in
the news will get a lot worse because of it, and we’ve accepted
that we deserve as much. But what we’ve chosen to do is final
and there’s nothing you can say to change anything at this
point.”
Mom’s brows arch like I’m calling her out, making me
sink down a little in my chair in discomfort. “Corbin and I
spoke when I was in California and buried a lot of bad blood
from high school. We both made choices that weren’t smart
given the circumstances, but…”
Words escape me as Corbin’s hand finds mine. He cups it
on the table, squeezing once and nodding as I meet his eyes.
“The stuff the media is saying is true and even though I’m not
proud of it, it made me realize what I’ve always guessed all
these years. I’m not over him.”
Now Gavin swears. Corbin doesn’t let go of my hand as
Gavin’s chair scrapes back and he stands. “When we spoke—”
“Sit down,” Dad tells him, snapping his fingers and
pointing toward the chair my brother occupied.
“Dad!” Gavin argues, throwing his hands up in the air in
exasperation. “You can’t just sit there and let them tell us this
like it isn’t fucked up. This whole thing is—”
“If their minds are set, they’re set,” Dad says, though I can
tell he isn’t as okay with it as he pretends to be. What parent
would be? They raised me to have morals—respect for others.
Everything that I was taught disappeared when I set my eyes
on Corbin Callum and kept them there.
In high school.
In California.
Right here nine years later.
Eyes watering with the intensity of the moment, I look at
all of them. “Things are going to get … bad. Worse than they
already are because we decided to speak up before somebody
else can.”
 It’s Mom who presses for what I won’t directly say.
“Someone else being…?”
Corbin answers for me, knowing the expression on my
face tells him I can’t verbalize an explanation. “My soon to be
ex-wife, ma’am. I’m not proud of what I’ve done either, but
Lena and I have been separated for a while. We agreed long
before the movie even started that we would end the
marriage.”
Gavin scoffs in disbelief. “And how’s that going?”
“Gavin,” I whisper defeatedly.
He doesn’t say anything more to my surprise, sitting down
when Dad shoots him another look.
“The media thinks what they want to,” Corbin continues,
making eye contact with each of them despite the icy look
Gavin returns. “Since we’re still married it makes things
between Kinley and me complicated, but not impossible. And,
frankly, I’d go through anything if it meant being with her
again. Your anger, the publics’ anger, anything.”
Mom leans back in her chair until it creaks. “Regardless of
your separation, you still cheated on another woman.”
Corbin nods once, not arguing with her.
I sit straighter and count to three, channeling Dr. Ray’s
techniques. “We can’t deny what the press has been saying
about us because I’m pregnant. And I’m … a lot of things.
Sorry. Scared. Guilty. But neither one of us can change what’s
happened. We can only move forward the best way we can,
and we chose to do that together.”
All three of them stare at us.
Dad’s lips thin, Mom inhales slowly, and Gavin’s eye
twitches. And then, at the worst time possible, Corbin’s phone
goes off again. The loud ringtone breaks the silence but
doesn’t stop the growing tension in the room.
He curses and grabs it from his pocket.
“Wife calling?” Gavin bites.
 “Stop,” I warn, giving him a look that says I’ve just about
had it with his opinion and so-called ‘help’.
Corbin sighs. “It’s my mother. Sorry.” He presses the
ignore button and sets it on the table between us. “Listen, I
know none of you are my biggest fans. Truth be told, I’m not
my biggest fan either sometimes. But Kinley has always been
there for me and I have no intention of not being there for her.
Now more than ever.”
“So what?” Gavin questions. “Because you knocked up my
little sister, you decide to keep her?”
My fists clench so tight my fingernails cut into the heel of
my palm. “If you say one more word I’m leaving. You’ve
never liked Corbin and I never understood why. He didn’t do
anything to me, Gavin. You were always so bitter over your
own failed relationships that you tried protecting me from
mine before they even happened. You need to admit that your
actions toward us were unfair from the start. You labeled us
doomed because of Aimee and ruined what we had. It was
vindictive, and honestly, say what you want but I think a part
of you did it on purpose.”
Corbin squeezes my hand. “Kinley…”
Gavin’s face turns red and the muscles in his neck pop like
Dad’s do when he’s angry. “I did you a favor whether you
accept it or not.”
“A favor?” I spit, feeling my hands shake. Maybe it’s the
hormones, or maybe it’s the years of pent up anger, but I’m
about to lose it on him. I’ve always held my tongue when it
comes to Gavin, but I’m tired of it. He’s constantly intervening
where he shouldn’t, and whether he wants to admit it or not,
he did lead to the ruination of my relationship with Corbin.
Maybe at that time, even if I had seen Corbin the day my
brother chased him away, we would’ve still inevitably ended
up right where we are, but I’m not so sure.
“Kids,” Dad tries intervening.
“You know what,” Gavin states, leaning forward and
ignoring Dad. “I take full responsibility for what I did if that
makes you feel better. I did what I had to do to protect my
little sister. And I don’t regret that because I never want to see
you hurt, and that’s exactly what you were when he—” He
points to Corbin. “—left. I’m sorry for upsetting you, but if
you’re both sitting here then can you honestly say I ruined
you?”
My jaw is strung so tight I worry I’ll break it when I grind
my teeth.
Mom sighs heavily. “This is blowing out of proportion.
You two love each other. The last thing I want to see if your
relationship torn apart because of something that happened
almost a decade ago. You’re both adults. Act like it.”
I throw my hands up, ready to explode. “Why do you
always take his side? This is why I hate talking to you guys
about anything. The minute I want to open up, it becomes a
joke.”
Her eyes narrow at me in offense. “Who said this was a
joke? Quit being melodramatic, Kinley. We’re all talking like
you wanted.”
“You think Gavin meddling in business that’s not his own
and then calling him out on it is being melodramatic?”
She scoffs. “What do you want from me, Kinley? Nothing
I do or say seems to be enough for you anymore.”
Corbin’s hold tightens on me again, grounding me enough
to take a moment before I say something I’ll regret. I didn’t
come here to yell. To be yelled at, sure. But not to wedge
distance between us more than it already is.
“I just want you guys to know that this is happening and
I’m sorry for disappointing you,” I say instead, voice drained
of all emotion. There’s nothing left in me at this point and I
don’t know how to take that. “Sometimes we choose to do
things no matter the consequences because we know we’ll
withstand the storm. And I believe that to be true with us.
We’re having a baby, and I’d like all of you to be part of his or
her life when the time comes.” I make a point to look at Gavin,
whose eyes are dark. “But you’re going to have to accept that
this is final regardless of your own personal opinions because I
love Corbin and I love our baby we created despite the
destruction.”
The room falls to silence, leaving me giving a limp shrug
before leaning against Corbin as he presses a kiss to my
temple.
His phone goes off again, leaving me wincing. This time,
he curses and picks it up to answer. “Mom, now isn’t—”
I recognize his mother’s voice on the other end but can’t
make out the frantic words. Corbin’s face twists over whatever
she’s telling him as we all watch him.
“What kind of situation?”
Worry fills me.
Something dark washes over Corbin’s face as he stands up
abruptly. “I’ll be right over. Just … don’t say anything to her.
Give me five minutes.”
He hangs up and stuffs the phone into his pocket, looking
at me with distant eyes.
“Corbin, what—”
“I need you to stay here.”
I blink. “What? Why?”
“Leaving so soon?” Gavin quips.
“Not now,” I hiss at him, standing up. “I want to know
what’s going on. What’s wrong? Are your parents okay? Did
something happen?”
Corbin’s hand webs through his hair, and I know
something isn’t right. He leans into my ear and whispers two
words that freeze my insides. “Lena’s here.”
Lena’s here.
Lena’s here.
“In Lincoln?” I whisper.
“Kinley?” Dad prompts.
 I brush hair behind my ear and look at Corbin. “I’m
coming with you.”
“That isn’t—”
“Good or bad, remember?”
His lips purse.
“Kinley?” Mom asks.
“We have a situation,” is all I say before grabbing Corbin’s
hand and steering him away from the table.
“So that’s it?” Gavin calls out.
“Not now, Gavin.”
Mom and Dad stay at the table, but Gavin follows us into
the kitchen. “Then when? I’ve wanted to talk to you but gave
you space. Now you’re just leaving without any explanation?”
I turn around, nearly smacking into his broad chest
because he’s so close. “I’m coming back, idiot. Unless you
want to piss me off by saying something that’ll make me
change my mind, I suggest you close your mouth and let us
leave.”
He obeys, though his jaw ticks.
“Kinley, you should stay here,” Corbin tells me quietly. “I
don’t know what’s going to happen with Lena, and—”
“Jesus Christ,” Gavin blurts, glaring at him. “Your fucking
wife is here in Lincoln?”
Mom and Dad come into the kitchen, no longer giving us
their space.
“Come again?” Mom says, eyeing me skeptically. Dad just
stands beside her looking off, and I know his wariness is
justified.
“Soon to be ex-wife,” I repeat, though there’s a lack of
confidence in my tone that does the moment no justice.
“Kinley, come on,” Gavin tries to reason.
Corbin brushes my hand. “I’ll be back as soon as things
are handled. I promise. Your family and you should talk about
this. I can speak to mine—”
I give my family my back, putting my hands on my hips.
“How many times have you asked me to fly with you? If we’re
a team, we do this together. Birds travel in flocks. We’re a
family now.”
The room is quiet as Corbin nods.
Mom and Dad don’t try to stop me. I think they’ve figured
out that I’m not going to let them. But Gavin still follows
behind us as we walk out the door, keys in hand, and head to
Corbin’s car.
“Think about this,” my brother tells me, holding the
passenger door open.
“I am.”
“You’re not.”
“We need to go,” I say through gritted teeth, tugging on the
door for him to let go.
“Fine.” He lets go of it and promptly opens the back one,
sliding in and leaving me speechless.
Corbin doesn’t say a word as he starts the car and backs
out. I can tell by his terse face that he’s got too much on his
mind to even think about the fact that my brother is third-
wheeling this unwelcome adventure. Even my mind is racing
too fast to even think about what this means.
The drive is fast because Corbin runs the red light and goes
well above the speed limit down Main Street. I want to say
something but have no words. I just let him grip the wheel and
grind his teeth as we slow down in front of his parents’ yellow
house.
He gets out immediately, storming to the house as Gavin
and I both climb out at the same time.
“Kinley Thomas!” an unfamiliar voice calls from
somewhere off to the side. I turn just as a huge camera points
in my direction, blinding me with bright flashes.
 Instinct has me covering my stomach that is no longer
hidden by the jacket I left at my parents’ house. The
photographer instantly notices the reaction, aiming his camera
at the way my palm covers the round belly under my sweater.
His eyes light up like he just won the lottery. And in his
world … he did. “Jesus Christ,” he muses, snapping more
pictures as I stand frozen in shock.
Gavin quickly pushes me behind him, covering me from
the camera’s view as he guides us inside. When the
photographer gets closer, Gavin doesn’t hesitate to curse him
out and shove him back so I can get into the house without the
lens being shoved in my face again.
But the damage is done regardless of my big brother
protecting me like he knows best. And in that moment I chip at
the anger held toward him because I know he was just doing
what he thought was best back then, just like he is now.
When I walk into the Callum’s home, Corbin and Lena are
standing face to face at the end of the hall and the tension in
the air is so thick I may suffocate.
Corbin is seething.
Lena is smiling.
“You must be Kinley,” she says in a thick accent, turning
to me with inquisitive eyes raking down my body. “Oh, my.
Looks like my friend outside is going to be paid well.”
Gavin puts an arm in front of me, blocking me with his
body in a protective stance. And I let him, burrowing behind
his bulky frame and letting the tears that well in my eyes
escape from the ducts I can no longer control.
Because we’re screwed.
Absolutely screwed.
 CHAPTER TWENTY

C ORBIN / Present

A S MUCH AS I want to strangle Lena for showing up

unannounced at my parents’ house, Kinley’s damp cheeks are
all I see from where she cowers behind her brother. Walking
away from my wife, I make my way to Kinley and ignore her
brother’s tense posture as I pull her toward me. Threading my
fingers through her hair as I cradle her head, I hold her tight
against me.
I whisper, “Are you okay?” into the crown of her head and
feel her nod slowly. But I know she’s not. Like always, she
saves face the best she can like she’s not allowed to feel
anything.
Drawing back, I stand beside Gavin and help him block
Kinley from Lena’s view. Her brother is a few inches taller
than me, and certainly built bulkier. But in this instant it
comforts me more than anything because I know he’ll protect
his sister no matter what.
“Why would you bring somebody here?” I ask Lena as she
studies the three of us with narrow eyes. “You had no right
coming here at all, Lena.”
One of her brows arches up. “No? I am your wife, last I
checked. I haven’t seen your family since our wedding. Maybe
I missed them.”
 The way dad scoffs from where he and Mom stand behind
Lena makes it evident that they didn’t miss her. How could
they when I separated my life from here? I thought the less I
shared with anybody about Lincoln meant the small town kept
their privacy.
“Lena,” I warn through clenched teeth.
She struts toward me slowly, her painted fingers like talons
scraping across the wall as she nears us. Her head cocks at a
few discolored patches where Mom and I fixed the holes Dad
left behind in his many mood swings. The slightest tug of her
red lips as she traces the circular outline has my brow
twitching.
Her gaze shifts from the wall to my parents, where Mom
stands frowning and Dad keeps a close hold on her. “Did you
know your son has anger issues? We have these same patches
in our condo from where he punched the walls.”
I step forward. “Say what you came here to say because
nobody has time for this.”
“Oh, I know.” Her eyes go to Kinley, traveling down her
front. “It seems your time is up anyway.”
From the corner of my eye, I notice Gavin grab Kinley’s
hand and squeeze it. She doesn’t pull away, just absorbs her
brother’s comfort as this all unfolds.
“Is that what you want?” I prod, gesturing around us. “Did
you think coming here and making a spectacle would get me
to listen to you and the fucked-up blackmail you have on me?”
Mom winces when I curse but doesn’t scold me like she
normally does. Nobody says a word as I stare at my wife, who
gives it right back to me as she crosses her arms over her
chest. We stand like that, and I have no idea what she expects
me to say.
“Well?” I step forward again. “That guy out there can get
arrested, you know. He’s on private property which means he’s
trespassing.”
“Do you think I really care?” she retorts, tilting her head.
“He’s going to make enough bank to bail himself out ten times
over because of your little secret. If you must know, I came
here to see if talking to your parents would get you to see
reason.”
Mom steps away from Dad, but he keeps one hand on her
arm still. “I called you as soon as she showed up.”
Voice grim, I nod once. “I know, Mom. I’m sorry I didn’t
pick up sooner. Kinley and I were at her parents talking
about…” My nostrils flare. “…things.”
Mom’s gaze falls on Kinley, and a sympathetic smile
stretches across her face. She doesn’t have to say a word for
Kinley to know that she’s here for her. I can see the way my
mother’s gaze glosses with tears as she notes the baby bump
staring back at her.
Swallowing, I shake my head. “It’s over, Lena. It’s been
over. It’ll always be over. Your games are over the top and
make you look pathetic. We. Don’t. Love. Each. Other.”
Her face darkens, lips falling into a flat line as her lips
narrow into slits. “And I told you if you don’t agree to—”
“You know what?” I back up. “I don’t give a shit what you
told me. Want to know why? Because as long as Kinley and I
have each other, there’s nothing for me to lose.”
I turn toward the door and open it, shouting at the guy
who’s standing on the sidewalk. His camera is already facing
me, snapping pictures of my irate expression.
“You want a story?” I yell.
The guy’s eyes widen.
“Get out your fucking phone and record everything I’m
about to tell you,” I demand, walking over to him with
multiple pairs of eyes burning into my back.
I can hear my wife’s seething warning yelled behind me,
which I blatantly ignore as the guy frantically pulls out his cell
phone and aims it at me. He swallows nervously and just nods
after hitting something.
“My wife, Lena Dasani, and I have been separated since
the beginning of the year because we fell out of love. And the
truth is, I am, and always have been, in love with my best
friend ever since I met her when I was seventeen years old
right here in Lincoln, New York. The world may think that I
met Kinley Thomas on the set of the movie we just shot, but
I’ve known her for over ten years and made the biggest
mistake of my life letting her go. And that’s all the world
needs to know right now.”
I push the camera away and walk back toward my house,
where Lena’s red face greets me as I approach her. “Get off
this property and out of this town before I call the fucking
cops. Don’t think I won’t.”
“What did you just do?”
“Ended it,” I say simply, brushing past her and to Kinley.
My little bird’s face is morphed in disbelief. It’s not what we
planned but it had to be done.
I repeat that to her and kiss her forehead before keeping
her tucked into my side. All she can do is nod in stunned
silence, blinking at me and then her brother.
When Lena doesn’t make a move to leave, my father steps
forward and puts his hand on my shoulder. “Young lady, I will
not hesitate another second before dialing the local sheriff.
He’s just down the road and won’t waste time coming here no
matter who you are.”
Lena’s eye bolt to me. “Callum!”
My father’s jaw ticks. “His name is Corbin.” He produces
a cell phone and clicks a few buttons before putting it to his
ear. “Frank? John Callum. I’m going to need you to come to
my house, there’s a situation.”
It doesn’t take long before he hangs up, leaving my eyes
wide as he squeezes my shoulder once.
Lena starts blasting off words nobody understands as she
backs down the pathway away from the front door, pulling her
cell out. She points to Kinley with pure hatred etched into her
features. “You are finished. Do you understand me? Finished!”
Gavin grips Kinley’s hand and steps in front of her again,
obscuring Lena’s view once more as the sheriff’s car pulls up
while she spews insults out and walks down the driveway.
Frank gets out, putting on his hat, and glances between us
and Lena. He nods once, walking over and raising his hands to
calm her down. All while her little camera guy snaps pictures
from afar.
Shaking my head, I look at Kinley. “I know this isn’t what
we planned, but…”
She swallows. “I know.” Her voice is nothing more than a
whisper as we watch the mayhem unfold outside. Lena and
Frank talk, Frank yells at the guy taking pictures, and said guy
ditches Lena in favor of not being arrested.
But not before getting a few pictures of Lena being
escorted to the police car. At least there aren’t any handcuffs
on her. Maybe she can spin it once the seedy asshole she hired
turns on her for triple the money.
Dad says he’ll handle it as Gavin and I steer Kinley inside
and close the door. Mom reaches out and brushes her arm,
looking between us with a sad smile on her face.
She doesn’t need to tell me I’ve made a mess. I just nod
once, lips in a grim line, before mouthing, I know as she walks
us to the table in the kitchen. I pull out the chair for Kinley the
same time Gavin does. Despite his tight jaw, he lets go of the
chair and moves to the seat next to her. Mom looks at the three
of us with raised brows before walking into the kitchen.
“Drinks?”
It’s Kinley’s raspy voice that says, “I’ll have a water,
please.”
I rub her back, kneeling beside her instead of sitting in the
wooden chair. “I’m so sorry, Little Bird.”
She just shrugs.
Mom walks over with a glass of water, setting it down in
front of Kinley. “A baby,” Mom says softly, eyes watery.
“Does this mean that I’m going to be a grandmother?”
Kinley and I nod at the same time.
 Leave it to Mom to be excited. She kisses Kinley’s head,
brushing hair out of her face before asking Gavin if he’d like
anything. When he politely declines, she fixes up Dad and her
coffee before joining us at the table.
Clearing my throat, I gesture toward Gavin. “This is
Kinley’s older—”
“I know,” she cuts me off, waving her hand in dismissal
with a smile. “We met at Kinley’s graduation. I sat with their
family.”
I blink, trying to wrap my head around that. I’m sure she
told me she went. She loves telling me everything about
Kinley. Well, almost everything. Never once did she mention
Parker or the fact she was engaged. I guess even Mom has her
limits as to what she’s willing to share with me.
Brushing it off, I move forward. “I’m sorry, Mom,” I
apologize, rubbing the back of my neck. “The situation isn’t
ideal, and we didn’t want you to find out this way.”
She takes a deep breath and pats Kinley’s hand while
looking at me, a smile still tilting her lips despite the shitshow
I brought to them. “I always wondered what would happen if
you two ever saw each other again. Of course, I don’t condone
what you did to Lena, but you and Kinley have always had
something about you that seemed…”
As she searches for a word, Kinley and I share a glance
before whispering, “Inevitable,” at the same time.
Both Mom and Gavin stare at us.
Mom’s eyes tear.
Gavin’s narrow.
But neither of them says a word.
The front door creaks open, causing my shoulders to lock
as it closes behind Dad. He walks in and glances at all of us
around the table before pulling the chair out next to the one
closest to me. Mom passes him a coffee mug, steam rolling off
the top of it, and I watch as he brings it to his lips like always.
No milk. No sugar.
 Dad glances over at Gavin, tipping his chin once. “Good to
see you, Gavin. Hope the wife and kid are doing well.”
I draw back, studying Kinley’s brother for a moment as he
nods. If Mom went to Kinley’s graduation, I’m sure Dad did
too. But their familiarity seems more than that.
Dad’s grip on the mug handle loosens as he leans back.
“Get the door on your barn fixed or need me to come look at
it?”
What the—
“Might need you to take a look,” Gavin admits, ignoring
my questioning gaze. “Kayla mentioned renovating the calf
barn next. Maybe you could give us an estimate while you’re
there so we can see about moving forward with the project
before the weather turns.”
“Sorry.” I clear my throat. “What…?”
Gavin doesn’t spare me a look, but Dad does when he
answers, “He hired me a while back to do some renovations.
Little projects here and there to keep me working. It’s not a big
deal.”
Not a big deal. I shake my head knowing damn well that it
is. Gavin, someone who’s always hated me, hired my father to
do work for him regardless. I’ve never blamed him for his ill
feelings toward me because I’d known that his love for Kinley
was why he acted out, but it doesn’t stop the surprise from
coloring my face over him being nice to a man I didn’t know
he even knew.
Scrubbing my jaw, I look at Gavin. “That was nice of you,
man. I know…” I lift my shoulders, knowing there’s no point
in hashing out the past. “Thanks.”
He doesn’t say anything to me for a long moment, but with
one glance from Kinley, he gives me a terse nod. I’ll take it.
“Dad,” I murmur, standing and pulling the seat a little
closer to Kinley before sitting between them. “I’m sorry for
what Len—”
“Not your fault, kid.”
 I blink. Then blink again.
“Uh…” Brows pinching as he sets his mug down, he shifts
in his chair.
“Well, I suppose it is in some ways, but she chose to act
how she did on her own.”
It’s Kinley’s turn to comfort me, rubbing between my
shoulder blades as Dad and I stare at each other. I don’t expect
anything less from her even though her face is pale, eyes are
red, and I can tell she wants to cry. She’s always been focused
on other people before herself.
Straightening my spine, I guide her hand to mine and
intertwine our fingers. “Guess it’s pretty obvious what we’re
here to tell you, huh?”
Kinley’s other hand rests on the top of her stomach, her
eyes flicking down with color painting her cheeks. I don’t
want to tell her that it’s too late to be embarrassed given the
circumstances.
Mom’s smile grows. “You can always admit it to us
anyway.”
Dad grumbles, “Wondered when you’d pull your head out
of your ass and get back with her. Honestly, son, it took you
long enough.”
Eye twitching, I look between my parents. The odd thing
is, Dad didn’t mean it in a bad way. I know his many tones—
especially the ones right before he’s set off. And I can tell he’s
trying just like Kinley told me he has been.
“You’re going to be grandparents,” I announce, placing my
hand on top of Kinley’s and smiling at her when she lifts her
gaze. “And we decided that too much happened between us
lately to brush it off as a coincidence.”
Mom’s eyes brighten. “So…?” she presses eagerly, eyes
dancing between mine and the girl she’s always considered her
own.
I can’t help but chuckle, in awe, surprise, an array of
things. “We’re not letting each other go this time.” My eyes go
to Dad’s, who’s just watching casually from his seat. His face
isn’t overly eager but not carved with it’s usual scowl either.
“You told me awhile ago not to let her go and I truly never
thought I would. Sorry for not listening to you and for … not
giving you a chance.”
His hand squeezes my bicep. “Can’t say I gave you one
either, so your reaction was only fair. At least that’s what this
one tells me.” He nods toward Kinley, whose cheeks pinken.
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

K INLEY / 18

T HE 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?
 I tried not rolling my eyes, almost scoffing as I type out a
quick no. I’m not sure why I relented to enroll at a local
college a few towns over from Lincoln other than to please my
parents. I’d told them countless times that I’d find a better job
than dish washing until my book came out, anything other than
wasting my time in classrooms and building debt, but that
didn’t go over well.
So, here I am.
Parker: I’m sorry
Kinley: It’s not your fault
Parker told me he’d always wanted to go to college, which
his parents were happy about. But from what he’s told me of
the New Jersey natives, they didn’t care what he chose to do as
long as he was happy. And it made me dwell on my mother’s
many conversations about the importance of higher education.
If I heard one more time that getting a degree would ensure I’d
make something of my life by anyone, I’d rip my hair out.
Parker: What if I surprised you this weekend?
Kinley: Surprised me how?
Gnawing on my bottom lip, I stare at the bubbles dancing
across the bottom of the screen with anticipation. Nerves settle
into my stomach and only grow as he continues typing.
Then the bubbles disappear.
“What the—” Realizing I spoke out, my eyes widen, and
head snaps up to the front of the room. A few kids around me
giggle as Professor Ripley turns to me.
His eyes meet mine. “Is there something you’d like to
ask?”
Cheeks burning, I slowly shake my head.
I notice the slight twitch of his lips as he gestures toward
my lap. “I strictly said no cell phones in class, or I’d ask
students to leave. Unless it’s an emergency that can’t be
helped, I suggest you pack your things.”
 Someone makes a noise from behind me and every set of
eyes locked on my burning face. I don’t argue as I gather my
things and snatch my phone from my lap before standing up,
doing a different kind of walk of shame out of the classroom.
I shoot him a text the same time he finally sends his.
Kinley: I just got kicked out of class
Parker: I have a three-day weekend and was wondering if
I could come see you
I stare at his text. And stare some more. Because surely I
didn’t just read that Parker Jennings, full-blown city boy, soon
to be publicist, wants to come here to the middle of nowhere—
to see me.
Stopping in the middle of the empty hallway, I grip the
phone with my fingers and scan each word carefully twice
more before blinking. It isn’t farfetched to think he’d want to
see me considering he’d admitted as much during our many
conversations over the summer.
There were hints when he asked about my family, the
town, and where I went to school like he wanted to see where I
grew up. I’d mentioned Zach, and sometimes even Corbin, but
found the silver-eyed boy a topic I tried avoiding whenever
he’d bring him up. Parker understood that Corbin is someone I
want to stay in the past. He respected it, which made me
respect him in return.
But there’s a lot wrong with him wanting to come see me.
For one, my family. I haven’t mentioned Parker once since I
met him. It isn’t because I don’t want them to know he exists,
but because it didn’t seem important. Or maybe I don’t want it
to be. I barely speak of anyone other than Zach to my family
these days, so suddenly mentioning another guy?
Not to mention an older guy. Parker is four years older
than me, which is something my father will definitely have
something to say about. It doesn’t matter that he’s fifteen years
older than Mom, I’m still his baby. And Gavin?
I shiver.
Parker: Shit. Because of me?
 Brows furrowing, I remember what I’d texted him before
blowing out a breath.
Kinley: How come you haven’t gotten in trouble for texting
me? Shouldn’t you be working?
Parker: I’m making copies of something in the file room
Kinley: In other words, you’re hiding
Instead of answering me, he circles back to the question
that has my heart tightening in my chest. I’m not sure if the
way it clenches is because of my family’s potential reaction or
my own. I like Parker. He’s attractive, determined, and knows
what he wants. And, I admit, I like that he’s in the same
industry as me.
I finally found someone I can talk to about books and
media and everything that doesn’t award me blank stares and
empty nods. It makes the hole in my chest close just enough to
make the pain a little more bearable.
But that doesn’t make the caution soaked deep, deep in my
bones any less prominent. If anything, the way I like talking to
Parker every day makes it worse—like I’m somehow cheating
on someone … cheating on myself.
Parker: If it’s a bad idea, I get it
That snaps me out of it.
Kinley: I think it’s a great idea
Cringing only a little over how this could unfold, I take a
deep breath and nod once to myself. There are plenty of places
Parker could stay. I’ll show him the town, we’ll see a movie,
or maybe we can nerd out about upcoming books that we’re
looking forward to reading.
It’d be no different than our phone calls.
And I’m glad that he shows up in Lincoln less than twenty-
four hours later because any more time than that and I would
have chickened out and found an excuse to cancel. While my
parents noted the visible age difference, their general inquiries
over his personal life seemed to appease them in ways that
made sense to me only after I had time to think about it.
 Because Parker is in college, has a decent paying job, and
most importantly … he’s not Corbin Callum.

M Y EYES FOCUS on the faint stain on the platinum blond boy’s

polo shirt instead of what he’s saying about his frat. I’m not
sure why I’m sitting here other than being peer pressured into
an impromptu coffee date by one of the girls, Jane, I’ve
befriended in my lit class. She insisted I’d have fun with him.
She lied.
“…event. So, would you want to?”
I blink, shaking myself out of it and look at him shooting
me a boyish smile. Having no clue what he said, my cheeks
heat. “Sorry, could you repeat that?”
His head cocks, smile disappearing off his tan face. He’s
attractive, but too put together. The only thing he’s talked
about since we sat down with our drinks has been his friends,
the parties at the frat, and some competition they have against
the sorority across the street from them. Maybe if he asked me
about myself, I’d be more inclined to pay attention. “You’re
not listening to anything I say, are you?”
“I’m sorry. Classes have me stressed.” I don’t even cringe
through the lie, making me feel even worse that I’ve gotten
used to it. How many times do I lie to myself? Too many.
Eric smirks. “You know what relieves stress? Parties.
Come tonight. I’ll show you around and we can have some
fun.”
My nostrils twitch at the have fun part. I’m not sure his
kind of fun is the same as mine. I want to make an excuse as to
why I can’t. I could tell him I commute and have a long drive
home—it’s not a total lie. But I can’t help but feel like this is
what I need.
Fun.
So, to my surprise, I say, “Sure.”
His blue eyes light up. “Cool. I’ll pick you up at your
dorm?”
 “Uh…” I wince. “How about we meet at the library? I
should get some studying done that way I don’t feel bad about
spending a night out.”
He just laughs like I’m joking.
Because he doesn’t know me.
When we part ways, I remain in the little café on campus
and pull out my phone. Rolling my eyes over Jane’s insistent
messages on updating her with the details of my date, I simply
say I’ll be seeing him tonight for a party.
Parker: Hey
Kinley: Hey yourself
Parker: I’ve consumed my weight in caffeine to get back
into the work grove
Kinley: You shouldn’t have stayed up so late talking to me
then. I told you you’d be tired
Parker: Yeah, yeah. I wanted to though
Kinley: We spent two days together…
In those two days I learned that Parker Jennings has big
dreams to be the head publicist of New York City one day—
the guy everybody wants to work with. I respect his
aspirations, especially because it’s a competitive world there. I
know just from the conversations with him and Jeff at the
agency that it’s hard enough to break into under somebody
else’s company, much less your own.
But I also know Parker is hard working just like me. It’s
why we get along so well. He doesn’t fault me for wanting to
spend a majority of my time writing, just like I don’t fault him
for focusing on trying to master his own trade.
Parker: What are you up to?
Kinley: Not much now. Just had a “date”
Parker: …a date?
Kinley: A classmate convinced me to get coffee with a guy.
It wasn’t a big deal
 Parker: Huh. You’ll have to fill me in tonight
Kinley: I’m actually going to a party with the guy I just
saw
There’s no reply for a few minutes, leaving me staring at
my phone in wait. No bubbles appear at the bottom even
though it says it’s been read.
Kinley: Talk tomorrow?
Parker: Sure
I grab my bag and toss the empty cup out as I walk toward
the door. Eric is across the street shoving one of his friend’s
shoulders as they all laugh. When I walk down the sidewalk, I
notice Eric point toward the café before one of his friends
makes a crude hip-thrusting gesture.
Rolling my eyes, I grip my bag strap tighter and try
ignoring them. My gut tells me not to go tonight, but my brain
challenges the ill feeling settled in my stomach.
For once, I want to be normal. But the night of the party,
Eric’s heavy arm draped across my shoulder, I realize too late
that I’ve never been normal. And when I burst into tears after
he kisses me and peels off the condom in his bedroom I
willingly followed him into, nothing but tortured regret
remains inside my conscious.
Eric leaves.
I call Parker.
And things … change.
 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

K INLEY / Present

T HE LIGHT BLUE walls that greet my eyes as soon as I turn the

door handle has my heart aching with nostalgia. I take my time
and look around the dusty shelves and patterned comforter set,
walking over to where pictures of a young Corbin rest where
they always did with the exception of one that I know he hid in
his suitcase before he left all those years ago.
It was of him and his parents.
When I finish my assessment, I turn and look at my big
brother, whose wary expression pierces my gaze before he
takes in our surroundings. “This was his room, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
Both of our eyes go to the bed, my face heating, his
scrunching. It only makes me blush harder as I walk away
from the mattress I know well. Gavin can think whatever he
wants. It isn’t like he was abstinent back then either.
Leaning against the wall, I cross my arms over my chest
and wait for him to speak. It’s clear he’s uncomfortable and I
don’t know if it’s because he’s in the room of the last person
he wants to be or because we’ve never been good at having
serious conversations. It’s probably a mix of the two.
“I didn’t want you to leave,” he says in such a quiet voice
that I almost miss it. Limply, his large shoulders raise. “I was
selfish and didn’t want to see you go. I knew it would hurt
Mom and Dad if you followed him. The chances of you
coming back then were slim since you acted like Lincoln had
nothing for you.”
Nothing he says is what I expect, leaving me blinking in
silence at him. The hurt is evident in his tone as he speaks,
meeting my eyes without any form of anger in his features.
“We were here. Your family. And…” He draws in a breath. “I
know that his parents meant a lot to you, too. They were here
in Lincoln just like us.”
“Gavin—” My voice cracks. “—I never wanted it to seem
like there was nothing for me here at all, but career wise… I
mean, you know how small this place is. I wanted to be
somewhere bigger, with more opportunities. Places with
bookstores and restaurants and people that…” I lick my lips
and give it my all to try absorbing some of the hurt that was
never meant to fall on him or my family. “People who didn’t
look at me like I was broken over Corbin. Admit it, Gav.
Everyone knew my business. I couldn’t stand it.”
He doesn’t answer right away, giving me some belief that
he’s considering my words. Eventually, he nods in
understanding. “It isn’t that I don’t understand why you
wanted space from the town. But you stepped away from us,
too, like we were part of the problem. I thought once Corbin
left everything would go back to normal, but then your book
took off and you met Parker. Seeing you leave with him …
that shit wasn’t easy for any of us, Kin.”
My eye twitches involuntarily. “You weren’t ever the
problem. You were the only one who ever offered to go with
me to New York City or tell me how cool it was that I was
writing like I wanted. But Mom… Well, it just didn’t feel like
Mom or Dad really cared. That hurt.”
“They do—”
“They might,” I agree, cutting him off, “but I’m not a mind
reader, Gavin. They’re always so focused on you and what you
do that it seems like I’m the black sheep for doing what I love
instead of going into a career I’d be miserable in. I went to
college, dropped out, argued nonstop with Mom about
practicability, and it kept putting an even bigger wedge
between us. And Dad never really tried to stop her from
voicing her opinions because we all knew he couldn’t. She
was going to say what she wanted no matter if it hurt my
feelings.”
He doesn’t bother countering anything I say because he
knows there’s no point. We get our strong-headed
stubbornness from Mom. That included our lack of filter. I’ve
just gotten better at controlling it over the years.
I step toward him. “I’m sorry for upsetting you, but
Lincoln was never my forever home even though you’re all
here. Even though things didn’t work out with Parker, it was
good he got me out of here. It put things into perspective for
me.”
His lips twitch. “I always knew how upset you were over
them not bringing up your writing more. But they did talk
about you all the time to me. They’d ask if I heard about what
you were doing, how deadlines were, that sort of thing. Dad
brags to Rich the mailman still when he drops by packages at
the door. I’ve heard him.”
That I didn’t know, and it makes me smile. Dad was
always the person to voice how proud he was in ways without
outright saying those words. It made me feel like I’d done
something impressive in their eyes, and that’s all I ever
wanted.
“Things have been tense between you and Mom for so
long, but can’t that stop?” he asks, frowning. “I know you two
don’t agree on a lot but be honest with yourself, Kin. She just
wants what’s best for you. And, as a father, I get it.”
I swallow, glancing down at the bump he’s gesturing to
with his chin. “Now that you’re going to experience
parenthood, you’ll understand why she’s been tough on you.
No parent wants to see their child struggle, hurt, or anything
bad like that. She had no way of knowing you’d be supported
and happy and it probably scared her. If Sam decides he wants
to do something outside of farming, something like what you
do, I’d be nervous too.”
 My brows go up. “Farming isn’t exactly a money maker
last I heard. But I get your point.”
He manages to chuckle. “You’re right. Farming is probably
the last thing I’d want Sam to go into after what Kayla and I
have gone through since starting.”
We stand in silence for a few comfortable moments. I
caress my stomach wondering what I’ll be like as a parent.
I’ve been too stressed hiding that I’m pregnant to even think
about what happens when I give birth, and this all becomes
real. And the thought … it terrifies me.
My throat thickens. “What if I’m bad at this? I never
thought about kids because I’ve just focused on building my
career. What—”
“Stop,” he insists, reaching out and grabbing my hand.
“We all have those thoughts, but you know what? You and
Corbin—” He tries not to force out his name but it’s still rocky
at best. “—have the means to make sure that baby is well
cared for, and I have no doubt in my mind that my little niece
or nephew will be loved.”
My hand twitches in his, uncertainty lingering in my
conscience. “What if something happens to that though? I get
why Mom was upset that I dropped out to pursue writing
fulltime because book royalties are never stable. With
everything else going on…”
He deadpans. “You’re involved with a famous actor whose
pants probably cost more than my mortgage payment. I think
you’ll be fine.”
I blink. “So, are you okay?” I ask, not enlightening him on
what he’s okay with. He’s never going to be fine with what
boundaries I pushed to get where I am, or what we did to Lena
no matter her motives today. But that doesn’t mean I don’t
need his support in any form that he’ll give me.
The side of his lips quirk. “I’m okay with spoiling the shit
out of your kid, giving them candy even when you tell me not
to, and telling them embarrassing stories about you. Like that
time when we walked to the store to grab pizza and the lady
pulled over to tell you that your skirt was tucked into your
underwear.”
I gasp, instantly feeling my body flame from the memory
I’d definitely pushed way, way back in my mind. “Seriously?”
He just grins.
“Dweeb,” I grumble.
“Dickwad,” he returns easily.
We smile at each other.
“Whatever happens,” he tells me, tone full of seriousness,
“I’ve got your back. You know that, right? I know what I did
was shitty, but I did it because I love you.”
“And because you’re selfish,” I remind him.
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”
“I know,” I relent quietly.
Glancing down at the carpet, he kicks his boot out and
clears his throat. “Is it really him, Kinley? You’re sure? Things
with Parker got serious fast once they started happening, and
we all thought you were over Corbin because of it.”
I’m surer about Corbin than I am on anything else. Things
with Parker happened faster than I had time to process because
I got swept up in the idea of moving on. I let the possibility of
loving someone other than Corbin someday drive me to make
rash decisions. The time we had together mattered, but not
enough to dwell on for too long. I found a way to move on
from him. It should have been that easy to move on from
Corbin, but for whatever reason, fate chose us. I can’t deny it
even if I wanted to.
So, I give Gavin a small smile, and wrap my arms around
his midsection for a rare hug. “I know you want me to say no,
but sorry. It’s always going to be Corbin.”
He harrumphs before winding his freakishly long arms
around me and squeezes. “I figured as much. Couldn’t hurt to
ask.”
I just smile against his chest.
 CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

C ORBIN / Present

T HE TALK with my father yesterday left little to be said, yet it

was exactly what we needed. He patted my hand, squeezed my
shoulder, and sat by me while Mom just watched with glassy
eyes. She’s wanted this for too long and we finally succumbed
to a different kind of inevitable fate.
Because of Kinley.
Because of this baby.
It was Mom who suggested that we turn off our phones for
the remainder of the day because even she, who avoids
tabloids like the plague since seeing me featured in my fair
share of them, knows how this industry works. By the time we
turn them back on, they’ll be plastered with every kind of
article there is to read.
It was Kinley’s Mom who suggested we stay another day.
And maybe to both our surprises, we agreed. It seemed easy.
The place we’d both been eager to escape from a decade ago
became the one place we needed to escape to now.
Studying Kinley as she bounces a blond toddler on her lap,
I notice the flattened state of her lips as her and her mother
speak in low tones in the living room. Based on the straight
posture of her mother’s spine, I can tell they’re laying it all on
the table—years of frustration all being voiced today.
But it’s what they need.
 My eyes go to Dad across the room, where he speaks to
Kinley’s father about the custom hutch he’d built to store the
collectable Holstein cow figurines Kinley’s mother collects. I
know if I stand up and walk over to the large piece of
furniture, there’d be two different copies of large white checks
hanging on the back wall between the model trucks and shot
glasses on display.
Gavin’s first milk check.
Kinley’s first royalty check.
A small hand brushes my arm, snapping me away from the
corner of the room where the two men talk, and focusing
instead on my mother. “You look lost in thought.”
I hum out a reply, leaning back in the chair I occupy with
two half-empty boxes of pizzas to my right. “Did you know
about Parker when you told me there was a lot about her I
didn’t know?”
Her expression says it all before she even opens her mouth
to confirm it. “Yes.”
Swallowing, I find myself nodding. “Did you meet him?
Get to know him?”
Her hand falls into her lap. “I only met him once. She kept
him to herself for a while, denying anything was going on
between them if anyone asked. And after they made things
official, she didn’t talk to me as much. She moved to the city
with him, you know. I think she needed distance from here.”
My jaw ticks.
Her smile is sad. “I understood why. It wouldn’t have been
fair to him if she kept in contact with her ex’s mother. But if
you’re asking because you want to know if he was good for
her, then yes. I believe he was exactly what she needed.”
Before I can even open my mouth to reply, she cuts me off.
“But if you’re asking if she was good for him, then no.
Regardless of our limited contact, it was clear to see that you
were it for her. She and Parker shared something special, but
nobody can force love.”
 Eyes traveling back to the room connected to this one, I
notice Kinley and her mother gripping each other’s hands.
They both look at Sam, Gavin’s son, and smile over whatever
he’s rambling about on his aunt’s lap.
Her mother touches her stomach.
And Kinley holds her palm there.
“You told me it was better to let her live her life instead of
disrupting it,” I mention, turning back to my own mother
beside me.
Her lips curve upward. “I did.”
My brows raise as if to ask why.
She laughs and pats my arm. “Darling, when have you
ever listened to me? I knew as soon as you said you got the
leading role that it was only a matter of time.”
I don’t say anything.
Something sparks in her eyes. “Who better to play Ryker
than the man he’s based on, hmm?”
I narrow my gaze. “You read the book?”
“I’ll read everything that girl writes,” she answers simply,
looking around me at Kinley as she plays with her nephew’s
hair. “No matter what, she’s family and I am proud to know
her. And the baby … well, I may not have seen that coming so
soon, but I already love it because it’s a mixture of two people
I love dearly.”
Not good at the mushy shit, I shift in my chair until the
wood creaks. “So, it doesn’t matter what the past is anymore.
Lena, Parker, nobody matters but you two. And I think it’s best
to realize that when you return to your worlds.”
I lock eyes on the chestnut hair that rests loosely down
Kinley’s back. The way she coos at the little boy until he
giggles makes emotion swirl in my chest as I imagine it’s our
child on her lap.
I choke on the feelings settled into my throat until Mom
rests her hand on my arm knowingly and caresses my skin
with her thumb like she used to, to comfort me when I was
younger. Kinley thinks everybody but us moved on from the
past we’d created, but I think everybody always knew, whether
they wanted to or not, that we’d end up here.
When I manage to look around at the two merged families
together, I realize that we may have a long way to go before
we’ve fixed things, but we’re trying.
And that’s more than I ever did before.
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

K INLEY / 20

I T WAS THE KISS — A nice kiss that felt foreign but welcome.
Soft but sure. A little sloppy and awkward in a I’ve-only-done-
this-with-one-other-person kind of way but … nice.
The more I think about the first kiss, the more I accept my
naivety. Parker’s lips aren’t as full as the ones I acquainted
myself with in the past and they didn’t have an urgency like
the ones I knew well did, but as far as first kisses with new
people went, it wasn’t bad.
The second kiss was the same.
The third…
They were all just … nice. Good, even. And good isn’t
bad, obviously, so I rationalized the tight feeling in my chest
as a pesky cautious feeling since my past two experiences
ended badly. It’s the same feeling that has me accepting that
Parker’s kisses aren’t just friendly pecks.
My parents would ask about Parker since he visited
Lincoln, and I’d tell them he was doing great. They know he
graduated NYU because I went to the ceremony, and they
know he’s been hired fulltime to work for Jamie because I’d
gone to their celebratory party in the city. But I felt wary of
offering them more information because I didn’t know what
they thought of us and worried it was nothing good after
Corbin.
 Each break from college I find my way out of Lincoln and
in the Big Apple. Parker has a place to stay, so I crash with
him and his roommate for a few days and go to Parker’s
favorite places—museums, cafes, parks, and restaurants. He
showed me freedom. Distraction. He gave me a way to
separate myself from everything I only pretended to deal with
at home.
Every time we find ourselves together, something shifts. It
wasn’t like that the first time in my hometown when we hung
out as friends without any expectations. There was something
lingering that changed how I saw him.
And I saw him … as an escape.
It was when I called him crying over my reckless decision
with Eric that changed us completely. Looking back now, I
don’t know why I ever told him to begin with. It isn’t like I
cried because I didn’t want to sleep with the guy, but because I
regretted it. And I could have called Zach, someone who
knows me better, but chickened out when I thought about the
mutual friend we shared who he’d seen me kiss and tease and
touch in high school.
I found myself struggling to admit my recent choices to
Zach because I know he’d congratulate me for moving on.
And if he did that, it’d cement the importance of me letting go
when I didn’t want to.
Swallowing as I look over my shoulder at the dark-haired
boy currently reading a book with a pair of thick reading
glasses perched on his nose, I manage a little smile. The only
light on in his loft bedroom is the lamps by his bed, offering
just enough light for him to read and me to study.
He looks up and smiles. “How’s it going over there?”
Nose twitching, I glance down at my handwritten notes.
They’re barely legible. “I’m not sure I’m going to pass this
exam.”
He knows my struggle over school the past two years. I’ve
managed to suck it up and enroll in classes every semester, but
it’s wearing thin. I’ve written a few books when I can, but
none that ever made me feel like my first one did. I’ve shelved
one, deleted another, acted on irritation instead of rationality.
Through Shattered Glass has projected more sales in the first
month than anyone expected.
My entire sophomore year of college has been a battle to
pass because of my lack of interest. Every semester I sit in
classrooms and zone out, jotting down story ideas in my
notebooks instead of actual lecture notes. And then I feel bad
for myself when I get my midterm grades and notice the way I
borderline fail in every class except my literature ones.
Nobody cares that I’m a published author here—if anything,
my English professors just expect more from me which only
adds on the pressure.
“Why don’t you just drop out?” he asks, setting his book
down and sitting up. Taking the glasses off, he puts them on
the hardcover book in his lap. “You’re an adult. It shouldn’t
matter what your parents think if you’re unhappy.”
Rubbing my lips together, I consider how to answer. He’s
met my family—knows their views. Mom thinks it’s great
Parker graduated from NYU.
“They’d be upset.”
“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.
Not once did I think about Corbin Callum.

I T GOES AS EXPECTED when I drop the news. Badly. The blank

stares are tolerable compared to the yelling. And there’s lots of
that.
“You need to contact someone in admissions and reverse
that paperwork,” Mom informs me once her jaw unlocks from
the intense stare down she gave me.
“Mom—” My voice cracks under the pressure of her
disapproval. It leaks out of her tight expression.
“No.” She stands and shakes her head. “I don’t understand
what you’re doing. You’ve only got two more years left,
Kinley.”
“But I’m not happy there.”
She blows out a breath and closes her eyes, lifting her hand
when I try to speak. Shaking her head, she walks away from
me, leaving me with Dad and Gavin.
“Kid,” Dad murmurs, “do you really think this is a good
idea? There’s a lot that can go wrong, and your mother is right.
You’re already halfway done with school. Why not just finish
it off?”
This is just one big full circle going nowhere fast.
“Because I never wanted to go in the first place. Mom isn’t
right, but Parker is. I only went there to make Mom happy, but
I’m miserable. School isn’t for everyone. Why should I rack
up more student debt for no reason?”
Dad’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t say anything to argue my
point. It isn’t an unreasonable one to make, no matter what I’m
springing on them. At least he can see that.
Gavin on the other hand? “Are you really going to chase
after some guy you’re not even dating?”
My eyes widen in hurt, my heart aching over the
assumption I should have known he would make. “I’m not
chasing after him. He made good points I couldn’t refute.
We’re both happier there and I’ll have more opportunities.”
“And if you two get into a fight?”
“Why would we?”
“You’ll be living together,” he says slowly, brows arching.
“You’ll always be together and that means you’re going to get
on each other’s nerves. Trust me.”
He moved in with Kayla almost six months ago and still
winds up here to help Dad with random projects in the garage
or house for hours. I always wondered why he showed up out
of the blue. Kayla would always come, talk to him, and they’d
leave shortly after.
“We’ll be fine.”
“Are you dating?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“You’re my little sister, so it is.”
I scoff, pushing myself up. “I’m doing this and I’m sorry
that upsets you. Jamie thinks it’s a great idea, too. She said she
can get local bookstores to do signings with me since I’ll be
closer. It’ll be great exposure.”
Nothing. Like always, they say nothing about something as
exciting as that. And it crushes me little by little to know
something I’m proud of is buried under the things they
disapprove of me doing instead.
 Mom walks back in just as I stand up. In her hands is a
steaming cup of coffee filled to the brim. She won’t look at
me.
“Mom,” I murmur, stepping toward her.
Nothing.
“I don’t want to disappoint you.”
She finally, finally looks at me. With distant eyes that are
carved with hurt, she says, “I don’t know what to tell you
then.”
And the hurt in her eyes soaks into me over the very words
nobody wants to hear. But it doesn’t stop me from looking at
my father, brother, and mother, before tipping my head once
and walking out their front door.
Those words will haunt me for life.
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

K INLEY / Present

I STARE at the email exchange for another ten minutes without

saying a single word. Nothing but the harsh drum of my
heartbeat fills the room, my ears pounding until my temples
nearly explode from the migraine forming.
I knew—we knew there were risks.
This is a termination of contract notice between
(publisher) ONE HOUSE UNITED and (author) KINLEY
THOMAS. Official termination documentation will arrive
within thirty days of the initial notice.
Closing my eyes, I let the tears strain behind my pinched
lids fighting for release. But I don’t want to spill tears over
something I should have seen a mile away. This was always
going to be the endgame with them.
The knock on the door is ignored.
Same with the second.
By the third, Corbin doesn’t care. He walks into my office
and kneels beside me, rubbing my back and asking what’s
wrong. We both got reprimanded by the people who represent
us after Corbin’s impromptu statement, which has gone viral
on every single site it’s been featured on.
His soft curse tells me he read what’s stretched across the
screen of my laptop. The hand rubbing circles into my back
trails up to my shoulder, squeezing it before he tugs my body
into his. “Baby…”
The tears pour out of me as soon as his arms wrap around
me and hold me against his chest. I drown his shirt with my
anger and guilt and sadness and defeat, and he takes it all.
Brushing his fingers through my hair, he kisses the top of my
head and says nothing while I let it all out.
Words won’t help anyway.
We stay like that for a while, and I don’t know how
Corbin’s knees don’t hurt from being in a squatted position for
so long. But because I need his warmth, his comfort, I don’t
dwell on it.
Sniffing back more tears, I pull away when my cell phone
rings and Jamie’s name flashes across it. My lips waver as
Corbin nods at me, pulling away but staying right where I
need him by my side.
“Kinley,” she greets in a distant tone.
Wiping off my face with the back of my shirt sleeve, I
force in a deep breath. “I should have known this would
happen.”
She clears her throat. “Yes, well…” She knows it too, so
she doesn’t even bother trying to tell me otherwise. “I spoke to
my contact there and they felt the negative attention
surrounding you was going to impact sales. I’m sorry, Kinley.
I know how much you wanted that deal.”
Blinking back tears and swiping away the ones sticking to
my lashes, all I can do is shrug. It isn’t like I can blame them
for terminating me because their reasoning makes perfect
sense. “I don’t know what happens now,” I admit, voice
cracking from the swell of emotion lodged in my throat.
When Jamie hesitates, I blow out a shaky breath and
prepare for whatever’s coming. “I’m not sure if you read the
full letter, but they’re reverting the rights and manuscript back
to you. My best suggestion is to do exactly what you and
Corbin told the press you were doing in the statement made
the other day. Take a break. Take time off. Let things settle
down. Right now, your name isn’t attached to anything good
and if we try reaching out to other publishers the chances are
slim you’ll get a positive response.
“This is why I always tell you to be careful, Kinley. What
you say and do has consequences that impacts more than just
you. I’m truly sorry that you lost the One House deal, but this
also affects me and this agency. Rave Publishing hasn’t spoken
up on the news since it went live, but I plan on reaching out
and having a conversation with them soon. They’re making a
lot of money off of your book and movie, so I doubt they’ll
want to pull anything. But you need to be very cautious over
the next few months, especially now that the world has seen
the photos of you.”
Jaw quivering, I nod along as Corbin brushes my arm to let
me know he’s there for me every step of the way. I can’t help
but feel bitter over the repercussions I’ve faced compared to
him. I’ve lost a book deal. Besides a woman that he never
should have married, what has he lost?
That thought consumes me enough to pull away and listen
to Jamie about staying off social media. Her people, once
again, will handle my pages. My job is to stay quiet and take
care of myself. And the baby.
So, I do.
I spend the weeks following that phone call in my room
like a zombie, being watched by Corbin with a careful eye.
He’d make me eat, try getting me to go outside, but couldn’t
stop me from curling up in bed and ignoring the world.
When December begins, the only thing that gets me out of
my house is my rescheduled appointment with Dr. Ray since
my energy was depleted for the one originally scheduled in
November. As soon as Corbin found out about it, he’d all but
begged to go with me. And despite my anger, my jealousy
over the situation we put ourselves in, I couldn’t say no to him
when I saw his white-silver eyes flash with a newfound
excitement I’d never seen before.
He wanted to go with me.
 He wanted to see the baby.
He wanted to be there for us.
And that eased some of the irritation that seeped into my
bones, even if the amount is microscopic. It isn’t fair to hold a
grudge over decisions that he isn’t in control of. Maybe
Hollywood wants to use his publicity to garner attention, while
the book world wants to distance themselves from it. I’ve
always known that our industries were opposite.
Like when I finally succumbed to the torture of my email
inbox where I found an exchange between Eddie Mansfield
and whoever was controlling my account. He suggested saying
the baby wasn’t Corbin’s. He wanted me to lie to save
Corbin’s reputation, not caring about my own. And when I
admitted as much to Corbin, he’d called Eddie and lost it. I
had to convince him that he needed a manager now more than
ever, so firing him like he’d threatened wouldn’t be a good
idea. To my surprise, he listened.
Not before telling Eddie if he ever suggested something
like that again he wouldn’t hesitate to fire him ten times over. I
didn’t feel bad for his manager because the idea of me
claiming the baby is someone else’s still adds to the bitterness
of Corbin’s life. He had people looking out for him in ways
that save face.
What about me?
They put us in a room immediately after showing up
because everyone gawked and talked and glared at Corbin and
me when we registered. One of the nurses brought us here to
get me ready in the same room I’d first heard the heartbeat.
That day is when I knew I couldn’t be angry over this
pregnancy because something beautiful was happening inside
me.
Corbin’s eyes are attached to a baby magazine he snatched
from the waiting room. He’s been reading it since they put us
in here almost twenty-five minutes ago, flipping through each
page slowly and soaking in whatever’s inside.
 He must sense me watching because he glances up at me
with a small smile. “I bought some baby books online to read
for after you fall asleep, yet this thing has way more
information in it than I would have thought.”
My brows arch. “You’ve been reading baby books?”
His cheeks tint.
His phone goes off, so he pulls his attention to the screen
before frowning. Picking it up, he greets his manager. “Yeah.
Yeah, I get it. After Christmas?” His eyes find mine. “I’ll need
to get back to you on that… Well, tough shit. You should
know by now that I’m going to do what I want. Not much else
they can do about it at this point.”
I’m not sure what Eddie tells him, but his lips flatten and
eyes narrow as he grumbles out a quick reply before hanging
up. Instead of enlightening me on whatever soured his mood,
he goes back to whatever he’s reading about.
“Corbin.”
His brow twitches.
I sigh. “What happened?”
He lowers the magazine. “Eddie wants me to head back to
California after Christmas. There were a few interviews I
canceled over the past month because I wanted to stay with
you. He told me I needed to be on the first flight back on the
twenty-sixth because I need to prepare for the promotional
tour.”
For the movie.
“And you’re coming with me.”
It’s not a question.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re. Coming. With. Me.” He doesn’t even blink as he
enunciates each word clearly. “I know what Jamie’s team
agreed on, but that was before. You’re the brains behind the
story, so you deserve to be at these tour spots.”
“I’m pregnant.”
 “The world knows that, babe.”
“But…” My lips close. “What else did Eddie say? If he
thinks saying this baby isn’t yours is going to happen, then
he’s got steel balls considering your last conversation. You
look mad, so it can’t just be because he wants you to go
alone.”
“That’s part of it,” is all he says.
“Corbin,” I hiss through clenched teeth. He is not ignoring
me right now. “I’m moody, hungry, and tired. Stop pretending
like something isn’t bothering you.”
“Like you’ve been doing?” he snaps, jaw locking once the
words are out.
I draw back. “I’ve been under a lot of stress. The deal
being terminated hurt me. Not just emotionally, but financially.
You don’t understand that because nobody has cut you loose
from anything over this!”
“Nobody—” He closes the magazine and throws it onto the
counter next to him. “I haven’t said anything because you
were upset and I didn’t want to make it worse, but you
couldn’t be farther from the truth, Little Bird.”
I swallow. What?
He swipes a hand through his hair. “I was in the running
for the lead role of a new Stephen King movie. Eddie thought I
was sure to get it but then all of this happened. He fought for
me, but in the long run they didn’t want me after the shit
they’d seen. They thought I was a flight risk.”
Guilt crashes into me. “I’m so sorry.” My voice is no more
than a broken whisper as I watch him shrug and look
anywhere but me. “I’m really sorry, Corbin. I was so caught
up in losing the deal that I thought… I just let my emotions get
the better of me.”
He leans forward, grabbing my hand. “I know this shit is
rough right now, but we’re going to make it through. We just
need to be there for one another. No fighting. No holding
things back. The press hasn’t run as many features since we
went silent and those images of Lena being escorted away in
the police car surfaced. The world knows there’s more to the
story and it’s best if we let things die down a little more before
we move forward. But the important thing is that we do move
forward. You’ll get another book deal, and I’ll get another
movie.”
“But what if—”
“Nope.”
“Corbin—”
“You’re coming with me to California and doing the tour,”
he states, not giving me any time to argue before there’s a
knock at the door and Dr. Ray pops his head in.
He instantly notices Corbin in the chair by the wall, his
white brows arching before he closes the door behind him. “I
heard there was quite a stir in the waiting room. Sorry to keep
you two waiting.”
The two shake. “Corbin, sir.”
“Oh, I know,” the doctor chuckles, loading my file on the
computer. “My daughters are fans of yours, Mr. Callum. Now,
Kinley, you’re far enough along to determine the sex of the
baby if that’s something you’re interested in.”
Corbin and I share a look. His eyes brighten even more
than they already were, making me smile over his enthusiasm.
When I look back at the doctor, he’s waiting. “We’d like that.
Thank you.”
My eyes focus on Corbin as Dr. Ray applies the gel onto
my stomach and presses the wand against me. When the
softest thumps of a new heartbeat fills the room, Corbin’s lips
part the same way mine did.
And it’s easy to tell he’s a goner.
He squeezes my hand tighter as he locks eyes with the
screen, his throat bobbing as Dr. Ray points out a few body
parts he sees on the screen. When the wand stops, I know he
must have found what he’s looking for.
“Ah, right there.” He taps the screen, causing me to peel
my gaze away from the silver-eyed man beside me and at a
spot on the screen his finger points to. “It looks like you’re
having a little girl.”
My heart dances. “A girl?”
Corbin raises my hand to his mouth and presses a kiss on
the back of it. “A girl, Little Bird.” He laughs and swipes at
his face as he watches the screen some more as Dr. Ray
captures a few images.
Seeing his reaction makes everything that’s left me
bedridden and depressed disappear. We’ve both had our fair
share of losses, but I can’t hold onto anger or else it’ll
consume me.
He’s right.
We’ll make it through this.
Together.
The three of us.

I BLINK at the dress clinging to my body. I’ve avoided fitted

clothing like the plague because ever since I hit the third
trimester, I’ve hated the reflection I see in the mirror. My belly
and boobs are huge and covered in stretch marks, and I feel the
opposite of beautiful.
My lip quivers as Corbin stares at me from his bedroom
doorway. Or ours, according to him. Spending Christmas with
our families seemed surreal, but even more so was the flight
back to California. We’d both tried keeping to ourselves but
were noticed just before boarding, leading to a lot of cell
cameras pointed in our faces and questions thrown out.
Now I’m here, in his condo, looking like a beached whale.
“I can’t wear this, Corbin.”
“You look beautiful.” He walks in and trails his eyes
slowly down the front of me, the color flashing with lust that I
truly don’t understand.
“I look like a whale.”
 An angry expression crosses his face. “I don’t want to hear
you say that again, understood? You are gorgeous, Kinley.
Stop being down on yourself.”
I go to open my mouth, but he glares.
Sighing, my eyes look back into the mirror, studying the
long black maxi dress. It’s plain and simple, nothing
extravagant, and under any given day I’d love it. But not
today.
“I don’t see why I can’t just wear what I normally do,” I
whine, wanting my leggings and oversized sweatshirt. Though
the AC/DC sweatshirt, which mostly just says C/D on it from
the faded lettering, fits me better than normal because of the
size of my midsection.
“Babe.” He presses a kiss to my cheek and pulls me into
him for a hug. “I promise as soon as the interview is over we’ll
come back here and watch a movie in whatever you want. Or,
you know, don’t—”
“Don’t even start with me.”
He laughs and kisses the top of my head before drawing
back. “Was worth a try. Are you ready? I already fed Penny
and she has water. We’ll only be gone a few hours, so she
should be fine for now, right?”
I murmur a right as he guides us toward his front door. He
helps me into a jacket as I slide into my black ballet flats that
barely fit my swollen feet anymore. I just want to soak them in
Epsom salt and devour a pizza, not go get interrogated by
people who will almost definitely stray away from the movie
questions.
When we’re in his car, he looks at me as he cranks the air
conditioning. He’s gotten to know my hot flashes well, getting
kicked a few times a night as I detangle myself from the
blankets on his bed.
“Are you okay?”
No. But I nod because I will be.
 We kept our silence for two months, enjoying time
together and with our families. We worked toward this very
moment because we knew it’d come. Eventually, we’d need to
speak about what happened—his marriage, the affair, and our
baby.
His marriage ended three weeks ago after an ugly divorce
hearing. Lena got half his money after the judge pointed out
the evidence of adultery, stating that Lena deserved her fair
share since her “mental and emotional health” were impacted
by his actions. Corbin wanted to fight the claims Lena made,
but one look at me in that courtroom—a room I told him I had
no place being given I was one of the reasons their marriage
failed—and realized that it wasn’t worth it. I think Lena
wanted him to battle her, and it was clear to see she wasn’t
okay when he agreed on the judge’s terms without saying a
word about it otherwise.
It bothers him though. All the money he worked for was
his own, and now she has half of it padding her bank account.
But neither one of us spoke a word of it on the way home from
the courthouse because we knew that there was some justice
paid in that room whether we like how she bent it in her favor
or not. The pictures that surfaced of her in the cop car only
helped her case, making the judge sympathize with her.
I hold my stomach, caressing it with my thumb and
wondering if our baby can feel it. “I’m nervous people will
hate me.”
“They’re not going to hate you,” he assures, reaching over
and grabbing my hand as we pull out of his driveway and
toward the locked gate surroundings his property. “If I’m
being honest, people eat this kind of shit up. It’s ridiculous but
true. Eddie has called me everyday trying to get me to do
interviews with you about our relationships for weeks,
especially once the divorce was finalized.”
“What?”
He just nods.
I’ll never understand why everyone is so consumed in
other people’s business. It seems strange that the public wants
to know the answers to questions that have been asked ever
since the very first article about Corbin and me came out. And
the video still circulating the internet admitting our past only
sparked people’s interest.
Jamie had told me not to do any interviews until the tour
started, so I agreed. If she hadn’t, I’m sure Corbin and I would
have gotten convinced by Eddie to speak up sooner. I’m glad
we didn’t though.
The past two months have been about us, our plans, and
what the future holds. Since his marriage is no longer between
us, we’ve taken it a day at a time. He’s mentioned me moving
here, I’ve mentioned him moving back to New York. We
disagree on baby names, talk about what’s healthy or not for
me to eat, and argue about how many interviews on this tour I
need to be on.
He says all.
I say not.
“There will be someone to try redirecting questions that
stray too far from the movie,” he tells me, eyes focusing on the
road. “I’m not saying a few won’t be hard to move away from,
but it’ll work out. I’ve had experience with this, so I’ll do what
I can to make you comfortable.”
But he can’t.
He’s used to this. I’m not. That’ll always be the difference
between us. As soon as we step onto the lot they’re filming the
interview, it’s his territory. I get emails from bloggers wanting
me to answer questions for them but that’s the extent of it—
what’s my favorite book, genre, and trope, and what am I
writing next. What we’re about to face is nothing like this.
I look down at my stomach and groan.
“Are you nauseous?”
He quickly gets his answer when I empty my stomach into
the purse he insisted I didn’t need to bring.
 CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

WKDP REPORTER: Mr. Callum, Ms. Thomas, this question

is for you. There was a lot of speculation over whether you’d
appear together for this interview since you opened up about
your relationship in October. Can you comment on that?
CALLUM: We’re both here because Kinley wrote a story
worth telling and deserved to get the credit she deserved for it.
There’s no reason why we wouldn’t be doing this interview.
WKDP REPORTER: And can you comment on the
relationship that has progressed since your divorce to Lena
Dasani last month?
CALLUM: I’m not here to talk about my ex-wife or any
other relationship.
WXRZ REPORTER: Ms. Thomas, what was your first
reaction when you found out about your book being picked
up?
THOMAS: Shock. I spent a long time hoping I’d be able
to do something nobody else had and finding out that Through
Shattered Glass was becoming a movie was something I’d
never thought would happen.
WXRZ REPORTER: And what would you say about the
assumption that your book is based on real-life events?
THOMAS: All my work is fictional, but there are always
going to be pieces that are related to something in my life.
WKDP REPORTER: What are your thoughts on the cast
of the movie? Were they who you pictured as the characters?
 THOMAS: I couldn’t have chosen anyone better to play
the lead roles. Corbin and Olivia brought this story to life.
WXRZ REPORTER: Mr. Callum, what led you to audition
for the role of Ryker after the string of action movies you were
cast in?
CALLUM: I was looking for a change of direction and
knew that this movie was one I couldn’t turn down.
WXRZ REPORTER: And why is that?
CALLUM: Because I knew that it was Kinley’s book and I
wanted to support my best friend in any way I could. That’s all
I’ll say about it. Next question.
WBRB REPORTER: Ms. Davies, what was your favorite
part of playing the role of Rebecca?
DAVIES: Getting to be part of a beautiful love story. Beck
and Ryker have the type of love that is unforgettable because
it’s real. Plus, Kinley is my favorite author and being able to
play a character I admire for her has been a dream.
WKDP REPORTER: Mr. Callum, do you believe that
Ryker was written about you like reports have indicated?
CALLUM: I believe that Kinley wrote the kind of man
that I hope to be someday, regardless of who he’s based on.
WXRZ REPORTER: And what kind of man is that?
CALLUM: The kind that doesn’t give up no matter the
circumstances. I spoke to Kinley on set about Ryker being my
favorite character to take on because of his resilience. His love
is raw, and he was able to let Beck go because he knew that’s
what she needed. But they came back to each other like no
time passed at all.
WKDP REPORTER: Does that sentiment relate to how
you view your relationship with Ms. Thomas?
CALLUM: My relationship with Ms. Thomas is simple.
We’ve been best friends for ten years despite the distance, and
we’ll be best friends for life despite the circumstances. Kinley
has always been my biggest supporter and being part of this
movie has opened my eyes to new possibilities with her.
 WXRZ REPORTER: So, you don’t regret the people
you’ve hurt during the time you pursued Ms. Thomas?
CALLUM: I’ll always regret hurting people I care for, but
there’s a lot people don’t know about my former marriage that
I have no intention of revealing. If there’s one thing I’ll never
regret it’s being part of Kinley’s life in any way she’ll have
me.
WKDP REPORTER: There’s speculation that you two will
get married in the near future. Are either of you willing to shed
on light on the rumors?
THOMAS [laughs]: Right now, we’re preparing for our
daughter and trying to mend the past that separated us for the
last decade. It’s obvious that we’re not perfect, we both have
regrets, but we’re trying to make up for it.
WXRZ REPORTER: Ms. Davies, what was it like working
with Mr. Callum and Ms. Thomas on set?
DAVIES: Everyday was amazing. Knowing Kinley was
watching always made me push to be my best and working
with Corbin was great too. They’re both talented.
WXRZ REPORTER: And as a couple?
DAVIES: That’s an inappropriate question, but in my
personal opinion, I’m rooting for them. If people can fall in
love with Beck and Ryker, there’s no reason why they can’t
with Corbin and Kinley.
WKDP REPORTER: Last question. If you could change
anything that’s happened in the last six months, would you?
CALLUM: No.
THOMAS: No.
DAVIES: No.
 CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

K INLEY / 22

I’ VE BECOME ACCUSTOMED to the grumbling coming from the

other room as soon as the door closes, followed by a tired
voice calling my name, a heavy sigh, and the sound of a bag
hitting the floor.
He always brings me a hot chocolate after work on
Fridays, setting it down beside me where I work at our island
in the kitchen before pressing a kiss to my head. Today is
Friday and there’s no hot chocolate or kiss. I save my word
document and turn in the stool as he walks over to the fridge
and pulls out a beer.
Parker rarely drinks.
“Are you okay?”
“The place is a mess,” he tells me, looking around at the
dishes piled up, the shoes on the floor, and the candy wrappers
littering the countertop.
I blush, closing my laptop. “Sorry, I was busy writing.
Jamie—”
“I don’t care about Jamie right now.” His tone causes me
to wince, so I press my lips together and nod. Sighing, he sets
the beer bottle down and begins cleaning up after me. “You’re
always writing. Have you even gone outside at all today?”
Lips twitching, I answer, “I haven’t been writing all day. I
finalized the wedding invitations. I showed them to you the
other night, remember? I ordered them this afternoon. They’ll
be here by next Wednesday.”
He doesn’t say anything.
“You’re mad.”
“I’m just … tired.”
Tired. He’s been tired a lot lately. And based on the way he
rolls up his shirt sleeves and gives me his back as he opens the
dishwasher to load it with dirty dishes from the past two days,
he’s more than that.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, walking over to him. Helping him
stack the dishes, I grab one of the pods from the cupboard and
pass it to him. He closes the front and presses start, going back
to his beer on the other side of the kitchen.
“How’d the presentation go?”
“Like shit.”
I frown. He’s been working hard on it for two weeks now,
so knowing that it didn’t go well only makes my guilt tenfold.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He’s short with me. “No.”
Slowly, I nod. “Want me to cook something? I think there’s
pasta in the cupboard. I can make spaghetti. Or we can order
delivery.”
He sips his beer and looks at me before rubbing the back
of his neck. “I think I’m just going to head upstairs. I’m sure
you have work to do. Order something for yourself if you
want.”
Pulling out his wallet, he sets it down on the counter in
front of me and gives me a chaste kiss on the forehead before
walking away. And instead of following him like I should, I
give him space. Grabbing my cell, I call for delivery, sit down
in front of my computer, and immerse myself in a world that’s
not this one.
I should have thought more about why that is but find
myself brushing it off like always.
A FEW WEEKS later I walk home from Jamie’s office to see
Parker’s bag already on the floor by the door. When I walk in
further, I notice him sitting at the table, posture slumped, not
moving an inch.
And I know. I just … know.
“You’re home early,” I note cautiously. It’s about two
hours before he normally comes home and last I remember he
didn’t tell me he’d taken time off. He never does.
Then again, neither do I.
I walk over to him and kiss his cheek, but he doesn’t
respond. He just looks at me with hesitant eyes, his lips
pursed, one hand wrapped around a bottle of his favorite beer.
At three in the afternoon.
In front of him are the remaining wedding invitations that
need to be addressed and sent out. Stacks of prepared ones rest
off to the side in envelopes with addresses printed across them
in a mixture of our handwriting.
“Jamie told me to tell you hello and congratulations on the
new job,” I say when he doesn’t make a move to speak. I settle
onto the stool and watch him. “I hand delivered her invitation.
She said she’d be there. Both of our parents also reached out.”
Again, nothing.
“Parker?”
A heavy breath escapes his lips, not really a sigh, but
something heavier. “I’m sorry.”
Two words.
Two final words.
I swallow. “For what?”
His head tilts. “You know what.”
I do.
 “You’re always so busy with your writing, promoting,
Jamie has you travelling…” He keeps going but I don’t listen
to all the reasons why this is ending. This. Us. Another
relationship that I have to say goodbye to.
Except this is different.
My eyes go down to the ring on my finger, which I twirl
for a moment before pulling it off. It feels strange to see the
slightest difference in skin tone from where the silver band
rested for all this time. And when I put it on the counter and
see the slightest reflection of light against the diamond, I find
myself not doing anything more.
Not talking.
Not frowning.
Not crying.
I just feel empty as I slide it toward him.
“You keep it,” he whispers, gripping the beer a little
tighter. His voice is raspy, like he really is sorry. I’m not sure
why. “It’s yours, Kinley. Do what you want with it.”
“I really don’t—”
“It’s yours,” he repeats.
But do I want the memory of him around like I do the
small plastic tote of other memories that I store under the spare
bed across the hall from our room? Do I want to add it to the
origami birds, notebooks, and bows? The more I think about
the time capsule of rejection, the more I want to cry.
I don’t though.
“I’m sorry,” he says again.
Maybe he is.
But not for the same reason I am.
Because for some reason as I stare at him, and all I can
think about is silver eyes, dark hair, and a cocky grin. None of
those things should cross my mind when my fiancé is breaking
off what could have been forever.
 So, I close my eyes and try to summon the emotion that
makes sense for the moment. The tears. The sadness. The
anger. But the only thing I come up with is emptiness, and the
hole in my heart that Parker mended a long time ago begins to
reopen from the stitches he pulls out as he apologizes again
before squeezing my hand.
He’s sorry. I am too. For trying but not hard enough. For
caring but not hard enough. And for loving him but not as
much as he deserves.
I watch him leave.
Stare at the ring.
And crawl into bed.
Once again, my mind goes to Corbin Callum and it
becomes impossible to deny that a lot of mistakes were made
in the past that isn’t the past at all.
I know then that our story isn’t over yet.
 EPILOGUE

K INLEY / 28

B OUNCING E LLIE in my arms as I read the email from Jamie, I

listen to the soft coos coming from my lap before looking
down at a pair of big, round silver eyes staring up at me.
“Mommy got a new book deal,” I coo back, tickling her
tummy until a big smile stretches across her face and she
breaks into a fit of giggles.
Glancing back up at the attached document I need to print,
sign, and send back to Jamie, I can’t help but grin until my
cheeks hurt.
After the promotional tour ended and the movie released,
the public swarmed the theaters and made Through Shattered
Glass a box office success. Despite my worry that our media
attention would garner negativity toward ticket sales, I soon
realized it did the opposite. The more interviews we did
opening up about our past, the more people wanted from us.
We still have people who make nasty comments about
what we did to Lena, but for the most part people are over it.
In fact, one news outlet had their entertainment staff write a
review on the movie that said we were “the couple that
America was rooting for”. It helped that Olivia supported us in
the interviews we did together, and even some we did
separately, telling the reporters that she wished she could find
a love like ours.
 Very few people questioned the journey it took to get that
kind of love because those who saw the movie believed that
even the roughest kind of relationships deserved a happy
ending.
Corbin knocks on the door to my office, Penny brushing
against his shins and staring at the way I hold our daughter.
“What’s the smile for? Did she do something cute that I
missed again?”
Ellie notices her dad looking at her and reaches out,
squirming in my hold. Corbin doesn’t waste time taking her
from me, bouncing her in his arms and peppering kisses across
her rosy face until she laughs.
She looks just like Corbin in the ways that count—same
eyes, same hair, and the kind of flawless structure that makes
me worry she’ll be a heartbreaker someday. Just hopefully not
like her parents.
“Rave sent me a contract for the sequel,” I announce,
practically bouncing in my chair. “I was afraid they wouldn’t
want an extension, but they thought that writing about Beck
and Ryker’s life after the first book was brilliant. They even
think a second movie will be picked up. You know, if that’s
something you and Olivia would be into.”
He grins. “I’m so proud of you for writing that. And you
know I’m there if the rights are sold, Little Bird.” His eyes go
to the watch on his wrist. “Speaking of which, we need to start
getting ready. Your parents will be here soon to pick up Ellie
and then we need to leave for the airport.”
My stomach dips knowing I’ll have to kiss my baby
goodbye for the first time since she was born almost a year
ago. “Maybe I should stay home with he—”
“Absolutely not,” he cuts me off, giving me hard eyes that
make it difficult to argue. I press my lips together. “Your Mom
and Dad said they’re more than happy to watch her while
we’re in California.”
“I know but…” But nothing. I know he doesn’t want to
leave Ellie behind either, but he’s handling it far better than I
am.
“How long have we planned this?”
I don’t answer.
“Years. Eleven to be exact.” My shoulders slump. “You
promised me in high school that you’d be my date to the
Oscars. You’re not going to back out on me, are you?”
I frown but say, “No.”
“Good.” He nods once. “Congratulations on your deal,
Little Bird. I told you you’d get it.”
I honestly wasn’t as confident. Rave didn’t give me the
boot when the world seemed to hate me because they were
making too much money to care about morals. And, oddly, I
was grateful for that. But that didn’t mean they’d pick up a
sequel I’d never anticipated writing. How could I? The first
book was written from pain, anger, and hopelessness. There
was no way I knew back then that I’d be here, living in a
house with Corbin and our daughter, about to go to the Oscars
where my fiancé was nominated in two categories.
And I know, deep down, he’ll win both.
Corbin walks over and bends down to press a kiss to the
crown of my head. “Things are looking up for us. We’re in a
good place, have a beautiful kid, and families we’re on better
terms with. We made it, baby.”
I swallow and nod, loving this man and everything we’ve
gone through because it led us right where we belong.
“Just remember what you promised about tailoring my
dress to fit if I get fat,” I murmur, knowing that the baby
weight hasn’t come off me as quickly as I’d hoped despite my
daily workouts.
It’s the Twizzlers.
The stupid, stupid Twizzlers.
He chuckles. “Anything for you.”
I just roll my eyes.
 And less than twenty-four hours later, sitting in the
audience surrounded by people I’ve spent my life fangirling
from the confines of my house, I get to watch Corbin walk on
stage, accept his Oscar for best male lead, and stare me right in
the eyes as he delivers his speech.
His normally gravelly voice is raspy as he fights off the
emotion that mirrors my own. “Little Bird, the only person I
can truly thank right now is you. This was your book, your
story, and I’m just lucky to be along for the ride. Thank you,
baby. I can’t wait to watch you flourish. I love you.”
The audience claps as he raises his trophy. I swipe at my
cheeks as Olivia reaches over and squeezes my arm gently,
smiling at me as Corbin gets escorted off the stage while the
hosts make their way back out to continue the show.
Sniffing back tears, I look down at the little blue origami
bird resting on my wrist right above the fly with me tattoo
written in Corbin’s handwriting. Corbin has the same one
pinned to his black tuxedo jacket.
When he returns to our table, he kisses me, the people
around us whistle, and I get lost in the boy with silver eyes all
over again.
 STAY IN TOUCH

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ALSO BY B. CELESTE
The Truth about Heartbreak
The Truth about Tomorrow
The Truth about Us
Underneath the Sycamore Tree
Where the Little Birds Go
 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This duet would not have happened without an army of

supporters who helped me polish it off. I never thought I’d do
a duet or series, but here we are. I am so grateful to all who
helped me beta read and edit it and make sure Corbin and
Kinley’s gritty love story turned out exactly as it should have.
My homegirl Micalea Smeltzer always gets a shoutout
because I would get nothing done without her. She’s my sister,
my bestie, my Momager, and everything in between who’s
there through thick and thin. Love you, M!
My personal assistant Jessica deserves a huge shoutout
because she takes care of, well, everything when I lock myself
away and write. She never bats an eye when I message her in
freak out mode about life when the stress gets to be too much
for me. Thank you for having my back, Luther.
To my beta readers who help me polish off each book and
make it tip-top shape for finals edits and publication – you
rock! Micalea, Alisha, and Jess, you girls have no idea how
much I needed you with these books. Thanks for helping me
make this love story full circle when I had my doubts I could
make it happen. We did it, and nobody died. Go us.
Letitia Hasser, my amazing cover designer, always kills
each and every cover. I told her I wanted something abstract
and unique, and she delivered. I’m so grateful to be able to
work with her to bring my covers to life.
As always, I love my readers. I can’t say it enough that
your support means the world to me. I get to live my dream
and be happy for probably the first time ever because I get to
write. Thank you for your continued love and support.
 ABOUT THE AUTHOR

B. Celeste’s obsession with all things forbidden and taboo enabled her to pave a
path into a new world of raw, real, emotional romance.
Her debut novel is The Truth about Heartbreak.
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