I hear one thing. Loves. Present tense.
“Like I said. I forgive you, Corbin.”
My eyes open to stare at her.
“I wouldn’t be here without you.” One of her shoulders lift and lowers as her expression turns sullen. “Kind of funny, huh? I made a career for myself because of you. I used to be so angry, but I should be grateful.”
I shake my head, sitting up. “Don’t be grateful for that. We both know I don’t deserve the credit for what you put to paper.”
She slides out of her chair and clicks her tongue. “Yet, here we are.”
I purse my lips. “Yeah. Here we are.”
Before she can walk away, I call out her name again. “You never came to my trailer the other day.”
She hesitates. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”
All I can do is smile. “No,” I admit. “But I’ll make it worth it.”
To my surprise, I see the faintest smile tip up the corners of her lips. And that’s how I know there’s hope for us. Because she’ll show up.
Chapter Fourteen
Kinley / Present
The sun is setting by the time I find the courage to walk over to the trailer with Corbin’s name plastered on the door. It’s nothing like I would expect a star’s trailer to look like. It reminds me of my brother’s first single wide that he proudly bought for himself shortly after moving away from home.
Taking a step back, I debate on what to do. I should be going back to the hotel and eating the leftover salad I ordered the night before. My laptop should be out with my current book pulled up to be written so I can submit it to my editor as agreed upon.
What I shouldn’t be doing is this.
One deep breath later, I’m knocking on the door just below the lettering of his first name. I remember an old conversation we had about what his trailer would look like someday. Having his name on a door is like having mine on a book cover. It makes the dream more real.
When the door opens, my mouth goes dry at the sight of Corbin in blue jeans and a loose tee. It takes me a moment to pull myself together from all the times I’d see him wear this exact thing when we were younger. Long gone is the business wear that differentiates his two worlds.
“I was wondering if you were going to bail,” he says by greeting. Half his lips quirk up at me as he steps aside. “Coming in or going to keep staring?”
Brushing it off, I straighten my shoulders and walk up the steps. Just as I pass him, his chest brushes my shoulder as he reaches behind me to close the door. He chuckles when I eye him suspiciously, then walks further into the trailer toward a little kitchen area.
“This is…” I take in how homey the inside is. There are a few counters with a microwave perched on one and a fridge next to it. The sink is on the opposite end, where the kitchen leads to a built-in wooden eating area. The benches are padded and clothed with black cushions and the table between them is the same wood as the counters and paneling.
“Wow,” is all I remark.
As I’m turning to examine the rest of the space, I stop and stare at the large flat screen TV mounted on the wall in front of a huge black suede couch. The screen has Carrie displayed on it with the curser hovering over the play button.
Corbin comes up beside me. “It’s the remake they did a few years back. Figured you probably hadn’t seen it.”
He’s right, I haven’t. Anything that reminded me of him I tried to avoid if I could help it. Since Stephen King was his obsession, it wasn’t hard to do. I’ve only read a few books by him that Corbin got for me, and not another since.
“You wanted to be part of that film,” I say quietly, walking over to the couch and seeing a closed pizza box on the wooden coffee table.
“It would have been cool,” he agrees, sitting down on one end of the couch. “But I still plan on being part of other films based on his books. Plus, the cast for this is great.”
I eye the spot nearest me, then look back at the assortment of food items littering the table. My gut tells me there’s something familiar in the plastic bag, so I reach forward and peek inside.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Going back.”
My eyes widen. “Corbin—”
“Just sit down, Little Bird.” He pats the cushion and picks up the remote. “We both need a break. What better way to do it?”
The Twizzlers, pizza, and soda take me back to the uneasy nervousness I experienced the very first time I hung out with him in his bedroom in that yellow house in Lincoln. It should be different now—the gut feeling settled into my stomach as I examine the man draped causally on the couch only feet from me. It isn’t though.
Corbin was confident then, but that confidence is tenfold now. He has no reason not to be. His body is in pique condition, his career is huge, and he can get anything he wants with one little wink from those stupid melted lead eyes.
“You’re not playing fair,” I state, reluctantly taking a seat despite my better judgment egging me to leave.
The wafting scent of cheese and grease has my stomach growling. I haven’t eaten since breakfast because I’ve been battling myself all day on should I or shouldn’t I. Logically, the answer is obvious.
But here I am, losing a battle I had no chance at winning as soon as he stepped back into my life. I knew I’d wind up here eventually, pretending like nine years didn’t separate us so we could live our own lives like nothing happened. As soon as my agent called to tell me the exciting news about the movie cast, it was all over.
When the movie starts, Corbin passes me a plate of pizza and tosses an unopened package of Twizzlers at me. Glaring at his innocent expression, I just focus on eating and watching the screen.
“You’re not eating any of this?” I ask when he leans back without getting himself any.
“Not really in the diet plan.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not eating all this on my own, superstar. Don’t you have some overpriced trainer to get you to do a few extra sit-ups for occasions like this?”
His laugh is deep, causing little goosebumps to pebble my arms. “Suppose you’re right. I don’t have a shirtless scene tomorrow, so I guess I can indulge.”
Shaking my head, I don’t bother remarking on how one slice of pizza won’t harm his chiseled physique. The last thing he needs from me is a compliment about his body. Then he’d know I’ve most definitely been looking.
We’re halfway through the movie when I decide to tuck my legs under me and settle into the small decorative pillow on my side. The Twizzlers on my lap have been dug into, and a few even thrown in the general direction that Corbin is sitting.
After getting comfortable, I freeze when a warm hand caresses my calf. My head lifts to see Corbin’s eyes on the screen but his hand kneading absentmindedly at the tight muscles in my legs. I tell myself to move away or tell him to stop, but all I do is watch.
Swallowing, I try resting back down and watching the movie. A few minutes later, he extends my legs straight to drape them across his lap. His fingers work their magic on the other leg, before his palm drifts down to my socked feet. I unintentionally moan when he starts massaging them one at a time, leaving my eyes growing heavy from the relaxing sensation.