by B. Celeste
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
Kinley / 18
The 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 s
hows 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.
My 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.”
