Where The Little Birds Go

by Celeste, B.

  Instead of continuing the argument that’ll get us nowhere, I relent, “Emotions are a good motivator for writing.”

  “Like heartbreak,” he murmurs.

  I glare. “Or love.”

  He just opens the door and shoots me a wary look over his shoulder. One that my gut tells me to consider. To believe.

  I wish I had.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Corbin / Present

  The sound of my phone buzzing somewhere beside me has my hand absentmindedly whipping toward the offensive noise until I’m knocking shit over in the process. I groan loudly when it doesn’t stop, sitting up and pressing the red button I see immediately in the corner.

  Faceplanting back into the mattress, I’m half asleep when my phone starts making noise again. Cursing, I peel myself from the warm sheets and pick up the device. Tempted to throw it at the wall, my shoulders tense when I see the name displayed on the screen.

  Sighing, I accept the call. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Corbin,” she says in her usual soft tone. She never changes her outlook on me, even when shit hits the fan in my life. “You’re not still sleeping, are you? It’s after ten in the morning.”

  Eyes widening a little at the news, I glance at the time displayed on the top of my screen to confirm she’s right. I don’t know the last time I slept this long. It was well past three in the morning before I got back home after dropping Kinley back off at the hotel and making sure she got to her room safely. The color on her face seemed to come back, giving me the tiniest comfort in letting her be for the night without too much guilt.

  I scratch my nose and roll my shoulders back in a needed stretch. “Why are you calling, Mom? Don’t get me wrong, it’s good to hear from you. I figured I’d just check in later.”

  The pause doesn’t prepare me for the quiet sigh I hear from her end. I never mean to come off like an asshole, but I don’t have time to talk to her as much as she’d like. Occasionally we’ll catch up for an hour or so before one of us has to go, and sometimes we’ll make plans to meet up.

  But never in Lincoln.

  My mother has travelled to over twenty cities to see me depending on where I’m filming. I’ll buy both her and Dad a ticket, not that he ever uses it, and fly them to me so we can catch up. I get us lunch, coffee, a souvenir, and ask how things are going in her life before zoning out when she tells me about Dad having problems. His problems aren’t mine anymore.

  “There are pictures of you and Kinley all over the news,” is the last thing I expect her to say. The exhaustion latched onto me is long gone as I put the phone on speaker and quickly search the internet.

  Kinley’s face is grainy based on the cell phone pictures taken, but you can still tell who it is. She tries covering her face with her hair, but it doesn’t mask it completely. And the picture of us walking out with me touching her on the back?

  “Fuck.”

  “Corbin,” Mom chides.

  Rolling my eyes at the fact she still hates me cursing despite seeing almost all the movies I’ve been in that has me doing worse, I scroll through the various tabloid articles.

  Most of them are innocent. Some mention the movie and speculate that our outing is purely to boost promotion. Others are nothing more than assumptions to get a rise out of people.

  Corbin Callum seen out with new woman.

  Author involved with movie star.

  New Hollywood affair?

  I scooch back until my bare back hits the bedframe behind me for support. “She had a headache that’s all. I took her to get some medicine. People need to calm down.”

  “Why were you with her?”

  Because I’m sick of not being.

  “We’re working together, Mom.” I don’t analyze the piss poor lie that I’m sure she doesn’t believe for a second. I could always fool everyone but her growing up.

  When she does speak, my chest tightens at the words she chooses carefully. “I’ll always love her like a daughter. That girl is special, Corbin. She always has been, and she always will be. You need to leave her be.”

  My nostrils flare as I sit up straighter. “I haven’t done anything—”

  I can picture her shaking her graying head at me. “Sweetie, I will always love you and choose your side, but there are certain situations I will not support. I understand why you left to pursue your career, but you can’t have it all.”

  “I don’t want it all.”

  She simply hums in disbelief.

  “I don’t,” I all but growl.

  “Tell me. How is Lena doing?”

  That silences me.

  Lena and I texted a few times over the past couple of days but haven’t called or Skyped once since Kinley walked back into my life. I know that she’s busy with her family and whoever else in Greece, and I’m trying to scrape by with my sanity here.

  The reality is, Lena and I are nothing more than two people who should have never said I do. But we did. We chose to pretend like what we felt was love—like it was enough. I want to believe that I did love her … do love her, but I also know that it’s not the same love I’ve always felt for Kinley.

  There’s a soft clicking. “You did the right thing by letting Kinley live her life all these years, Corbin. Why change her world again? She’s been through enough.”

  My palm coasts down my face until it hits the scruff lining my jaw. “Everyone goes through a breakup, Ma. It’s not the end of the world. We both know she’s stronger than that.”

  To my surprise, my mother scoffs. It’s something I’ve rarely heard her do. In fact, I could count the amount of times she’s done it on one hand. Most of them involve my Dad saying stupid shit, which means I’m about to get it.

  “Have you even gotten to know her?”

  “I know her already.”

  “You don’t.”

  “Jesus, Mom. What does it matter? She still loves reading, writing, sugar—”

  “How has she spent the past few years?”

  My lips part.

  “Where does she live?”

  I blink.

  “What makes her who she is today?”

  There’s no answer I can offer her.

  “You never used to be so selfish.” Her words startle me. “There was always a reason to justify you taking classes and auditioning because you made time for other things. I don’t know who you are anymore, Corbin. It scares me. It really does.”

  My throat bobs. “Mom…”

  She speaks softly again. “I didn’t call to upset you. Someone needs to talk you down from the high you’re living before you take everyone down with you. Do you really want that for her?”

  No.

  “I didn’t think so,” she concludes.

  “You love her too,” I finally say.

  “I’m not the only one.”

  Dad.

  Her family.

  Me.

  I know who she’s referring to.

  “But that’s a problem, baby boy.”

  “I know.”

  “Then don’t do anything.”

  Too fucking late.

  Chapter Twenty

  Kinley / Present

  The horde of reporters lingering on the sidewalk downstairs has me hiding behind the curtains as I peer down from my bedroom. My once long nails are now uneven ridges from the amount of chewing I’ve been doing since my phone blew up with texts, voicemails, emails, and social media notifications.

  Despite the hotel manager assuring me I’d be fine it didn’t make me feel any better. I pace across the hotel room until the carpet is worn by my patterned movements. Free room service is brought to me from management like it’s their fault the press is trying to break into the hotel and find me. Every time someone knocks on my door, my muscles lock and panic settles into my bones.

  By Saturday night, my agent tells me to stay off social media. My publicist tells me that they’re working on taking down comments shared on my online posts, which only makes me itch to see wha
t they’re saying. My parents called to ask me what was going on, but I couldn’t tell them the truth when I answered. I said things were fine because pretending they are is easier than accepting they’re not.

  “Kinley, we think it’s best you come home sooner rather than later,” Jamie Little, from Little’s Literary Agency, tells me after the third call of the day.

  My time on the film was supposed to last a month. Thirty days to see my imagination come to life before my eyes. Four weeks to experience what it’s like to see my dreams come true. In the short time I’ve been here, I experienced more than that and I’m greedy because I don’t want it to end.

  Seeing Corbin.

  Watching him live his own dream.

  We spend so much time holding on to things that make us angry instead of allowing ourselves closure. And for what? It’s like we fear who we’ll be if we no longer feel the things that we’ve known for so long. If I hadn’t embraced my emotions, I wouldn’t have gotten a chance to stand in California at all.

  “Kinley?”

  I close my eyes. “The media are everywhere, Jamie. I don’t see how I could leave right now even if I wanted to.”

  Her voice is full of surprise. “You don’t?”

  Is it the movie making me stay or something else? That’s what I keep asking myself. Then, like always, I deny what’s been just out of reach of my conscience for so long. Acceptance. Admission. I’m glad Jamie told me I was stupid for wanting to pull the plug on the movie when I realized they offered Corbin the lead role. Even on the days when I have to see speculation over him and Lena or hear gossip about him from the people on set, or just watch him play the role so perfectly, I still don’t regret coming here.

  “This movie means a lot to me.”

  Jamie never asked why I wanted them to call the whole thing off, but it shouldn’t have been hard to guess given what news it followed. She just shook her head and reminded me what it would do for sales. On top of the buzz it was getting from online media outlets, new covers with a movie-based image on the front with Corbin and Olivia would hit shelves right before the movie and double hardcopy sales. She never wanted to ask the reason why because she was like any businesswoman out there—in it for the money it’d produce.

  At the end of the day, we all had bills to pay. I spent years washing dishes when I didn’t want to. I hated the hours, the way my fingers pruned, and how hot the kitchen was. The only thing that made it worth it was the walks and drives home with Corbin, and knowing the money was being saved up to invest in my books.

  She’s typing something on her computer before answering. “There’s a flight I’d like you to be on first thing Monday morning. The press will have cleared out by then, so you’ll be able to get to the airport. You’ll meet me at my office on Tuesday morning so we can go over what to say to quiet the rumors.”

  I plop on the end of the bed. “I shouldn’t have to make a statement over a fuzzy picture that doesn’t mean anything. Won’t that just cause more buzz like I’m guilty of something?”

  Her sigh is a little reassuring. “You have a point, but we need to discuss it in person. I’m booking your flight. I expect you to be on it.”

  Leaning my elbows against my bent knees, I rest of forehead in my hand. “I was supposed to have another week and a half here. They’re bringing these characters to life, Jamie.”

  “You have interviews with them,” she points out in exasperation. “The entire cast will meet again for a press tour to promote the movie. The premiere party, the red carpet, the talk shows—”

  “Put yourself in my shoes,” I cut her off.

  The benefit of the doubt she gave me before is gone. “I am, Kinley. That’s why I’m getting you out of there before this becomes a shit show. We both know you worked too hard for this. There's no need to risk it for a scandal the media are trying to make bank on.”

  The thing is I can’t argue with her. It doesn’t matter if she knows the truth or not because it’s not her job to deal with the drama in my personal life. She’s supposed to sell my books and make sure my image stays clean so we both make money from the work.

  “I took you on when you were a teenager and don’t regret it one second because you’re a hard worker who’s dedicated to making something of yourself. Trust me on this. Can you do that?”

  The day I walked into her office to go over the contract I’d been offered, I knew I had the option of walking out without putting pen to paper. But Jamie is the exact person I need to help my career move in the direction I want.

  “I’ve trusted you since day one,” I admit.

  I can picture her smiling. Or her version of smiling, which is the fastest curve of the lips before the movement disappears. It’s more like a muscle twitch.

  “Monday. Plane.”

  There’s another knock on my door. I walk out of the bedroom and rub a hand down the side of my face. If this hotel offers me another meal without me asking for one, I may blow up. Then I’ll spend the rest of the night feeling ten times guiltier over being rude on top of being a pain in their ass along with the other guests impacted by the circus outside.

  “I’m not hungry,” I tell whoever is standing on the other side, eyeing the peephole.

  My eyes widen to twice their size over the dark head of hair peeking out of a hoodie over top of dark sunglasses. I curse and unlock the door, throwing it open in disbelief that I’m seeing the last person who should be here.

  “Who’s at the door?” Jamie asks.

  “Room service,” I lie, wincing. “I’ll be on the plane. I promise. See you Tuesday morning?”

  “My assistant will email you the time.”

  We say goodbye and I pull Corbin into the room before anyone can see him. That is, if they haven’t already. It seems impossible that he walked in without causing a stir.

  I end the call and glare at him after making sure the door is locked. “Are you stupid? What the hell are you doing here, Corbin?”

  His brows raise. “Good to see you too.”

  “No. Don’t act like I’m being rude,” I seethe, walking further into my room. “I’m trying to get those assholes downstairs to leave me alone and stop asking questions about us, and you show up to my hotel room?”

  He keeps his distance and says, “Most of them were escorted off the property before the police were called for disturbance. Plus, I called ahead and got in a different way so nobody would see.”

  I blink. Then blink again. “And what? I don’t believe that nobody saw you. My agent is working to get the rumors circulating about us to go away before something happens. You may be used to this but I’m not. I can’t afford to get attacked online for something stupid.”

  “Stupid?” he repeats.

  I ignore his deadpan question. “Why are you here? That’s all I want to know, Corbin. I’m leaving sooner than expected and just want to go in peace.”

  He crosses his arms. “I heard. And I’m here to check in on you. Is that so wrong? We’re friends—”

  “Stop.”

  “Don’t deny it, Kinley.” He walks over to me until his shoes brush the tips of mine. “You can act like there isn’t something happening, but then you’d be lying to yourself. You’re better than that.”

  For the first time I think, am I?

  My silence only feeds his determination to prove what’s better left unsaid. “You don’t want me here because that means you’re willing to truly forgive me. It doesn’t matter that you think you already have. Another lie.”

  “I’m not—”

  “I’m sorry,” he continues, cutting me off, “for involving you in the shit online. I mean it. You have to understand that I’ve done everything in my power to try making sure you’ve been kept out of it for as long as I can.”

  Does he think I’m stupid? “I’m not proud of admitting this, but I’ve googled you before. I typed your stupid superstar name into the browser too many times to count. You know what I didn’t find? Lincoln. Your family. Me. An
d I thought … damn. He must really hate us. You always said you didn’t want to be in Lincoln. How many times did you mention wanting to get out and never look back? So, you did. Only then you deleted that part of your past like it was some blip in the image you wanted to portray.”

  “That’s not—”

  “I know,” is what I say in a voice far too calm for the conversation. “You can call me a liar and say I’m in denial but I’m just protecting myself. I really thought you deleted that information because you didn’t care. It was easier than thinking you did it because you did care. That’s like admitting that I’ve always wanted us to find a way back to each other. To touch each other. To hold each other. To say the things we shouldn’t say.

  “All of those things have been locked away in a vault because they’re not worth the pain of acknowledging they can’t happen. When I agreed to come to California there were so many different what-if situations running through my head. None of them turned out like this. I told myself to smile and be strong and act like I was better off without you and the memories and everything between us. Do you know what I felt instead?”

  His head slowly shakes.

  “Sick.” His lips part. “Sick like when I worried about messing up our first kiss, or thinking my hand was too sweaty to hold, or wondering if I’d mess up sex and ruin the moment I wanted to share with nobody but you. It’s the awkward feeling of trying to play it cool when you’re freaking out inside, and trying to decide if the funny feeling in your stomach is butterflies or anxiety, or if the stupid way you smile when you remember something naughty would give you away in front of everybody.

  “And that is how this will end. I’ll touch my lips without thinking about it because I remembered how you kissed me in the trailer and stripped me of my clothes. The public will see because now they’ve seen us together and they need answers. They’ll do anything to put the pieces together even if it means putting them together wrong. Then that smile that teases my lips will disappear when I remember what it felt like to be fucked by you while your wife called. Separated or not the vows you said are still valid. Then the feeling in my stomach will weigh me down and all that’s left will be guilt. Want to know why, Corbin?”