by B. Celeste
Chapter Fourteen
Corbin / Present
Breathing 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 somethi
ng else?”
I relent. “Like?”
“Going to Lincoln?”
I’m silent.
She plays with the hem of the oversized sweatshirt while looking up at me through her lashes. “Your father made a home there. It’s where he got to see you graduate and flourish.” I’m about to cut in when she shakes her head before I can. “Did you know that he has news articles of you cut out in a photo album? Your mom gave it to him when she saw everything stored in a shoe box in their room. The school play, your first movie, high school graduation, commercials—he kept track of it all.
“I’ve read up on people who have injuries like his. They don’t process things right depending on where the bulk of the trauma is. Your father doesn’t like going anywhere because he doesn’t want anyone seeing him like that.”
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
Kinley / 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.
