I don’t say anything.
Her legs swing in a slow, causal movement. “She didn’t look at you the way she did when she first came here if that means anything to you. And I think it does.”
Again, nothing.
“Kind of ironic, really.”
This gets my attention. “What is?”
“She left before she could see what happens between Beck and Ryker play out. It’s almost like she never got closure…”
Again, is what she doesn’t say.
And fuck me, if Olivia isn’t perceptive. Not to mention right. Kinley wrote a story that was based on us, whether she admits it or not, and just like how I fucked up the first time, we’re screwed over again from our ending. I told her we’d keep in touch this time—that it would be different because we’re older and have control over what we choose to do with our lives. All she did was ask me to leave her hotel room.
Her voice had broken as she watched me open the door, and said, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Corbin. We’ve been down that road before.”
I never assured her it would be different because I knew there was no point. Her eyes were full of doubt and unspoken emotion and her arms hugged her chest like she was the only person who could comfort herself.
So, I stepped into the hallway, glanced over my shoulder, and told her, “We’re inevitable, Little Bird.”
Though her expression didn’t seem so sure, I knew she felt it. Why else would we fall back into old patterns so easily? It’s because we don’t want to miss out on the feeling that connected us since we were young and stupid.
“What are you thinking about?” Olivia asks, her legs stilling.
“Nothing,” I lie, picking a piece of lint off my shirt and rolling my shoulders back.
“Liar.”
I simply shrug.
Buchannan walks over to us. “You two ready? We’ll be finishing your scenes together today and tomorrow and do any reshoots necessary the rest of the week before moving on to the last minute stuff.”
We both nod and take our places.
Olivia starts the scene as soon as we’re told the cameras are rolling. One of her legs drifts up, the shirt exposing the bottom of her pert ass as I lean forward against the counter and watch her lazily.
Her fingers trail up her leg. “Do you think it would have been like this if we’d given in to each other all those years ago?”
I straighten and make my way around the island, trapping her on the counter between my arms. Her legs part and easily wrap around me, her arms draping themselves on my shoulders. Flashbacks of my night with Kinley replay in my mind, fogging the lines that I know I need to deliver.
Olivia eyes me subtly.
I raise my hand to her cheek, moving a piece of hair out of her face and curling it behind her ear using my knuckles. “I think we wouldn’t be sure about each other if there wasn’t pain to fight through. How would we know this is worth fighting for if there wasn’t a battle to face?”
She leans into my touch. “How will we know if we survive it? Battles turn into wars, Ryker. Not everyone survives.”
Her hands trail down my sides until they bunch the shirt I’m wearing. I watch her like I’d watch Kinley, with fascination over everything she does. The way her eyes skirt over my face, how her warmth absorbs into my skin through the expensive material of my dress shirt. I picture chestnut hair and fair skin and big brown eyes in front of me, and it makes me feel everything Ryker does for Beck.
“We’ll be the exception,” I tell her with a conviction I wish I delivered to Kinley when we parted ways. “Some people don’t survive because they’re too busy looking over their shoulder. We have each other.”
“You really believe that?”
Both my hands move to her face. “I believe that the reason I never let you go was because I was waiting for a second chance. This is it, Little Bird. It’s now or never.”
Realizing my mistake as soon as the nickname escapes my mouth, I play it out. Olivia does the same, slightly startled but willing to go along with it.
Her mouth ascends on mine, claiming my lips in a kiss that only two people who are beautifully broken can understand. There’s an understanding between us that our kiss explains silently with every brush, suck, and breath. I try channeling Ryker the best I can, gripping her sides and making her mine like I’ve always wanted. Yet the surge of emotion that I feel coursing through my veins with my actual Little Bird is absent. Ryker will never let Beck go because he thinks this is their last shot—this moment cements what he’s always wanted. Needed.
When Buchannan calls cut, I instantly back up and wait for the scolding over ruining the scene with my botched lines. But when I turn and see everyone staring at me, there’s awe on their faces instead.
Buchannan walks over to me and puts his hand on my shoulder, squeezing. “I don’t know what that was, but there’s not one person in this room that didn’t feel it. Damn, kid. And the Little Bird bit—”
I rush out an apology. “I’m sorry about that. It just slipped out. If we need to redo the scene, I understand.”
“Redo it?” Buchannan shakes his head. “I worked with you back when you were what? Nineteen? Twenty? You were just starting and there was passion since day one, but what you just did exceeds anything I’ve seen you do. You’re a good actor, but great ones channel their emotions into the job. I don’t know what significance Little Bird is to you, but I’m keeping it in the scene. Beck deserves to have a nickname.”
He squeezes my shoulder again before walking away and nodding at something somebody tells him along the way. Panic builds in the pit of my stomach as I swipe a hand through my styled hair and messing up the perfectly placed strands.
“Oh my God,” Olivia whispers. “You really love her, don’t you?”
I turn ever so slowly.
She blinks. “You are so fucked.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Kinley / Present
The familiarity of being back in my territory has me walking a little lighter and waving to people with a soft smile on my face. The tightness in my chest disappeared as soon as I walked into my home and saw Penny, short for Pennywise—my calico cat, run towards me. I know my neighbor took good care of her, but I still missed being the one to watch her gobble treats and demand attention at the most inconvenient times.
Since I’ve been back, I’ve thrown myself into work to complete my newest project and stay up to date with Jamie and the team following our meeting. Jamie Little is a five-foot-five intimidating woman who’s always ready for anything. There’s rarely a smile on her serious face, which screams success in how she carries herself. Her styled white bob never moves an inch out of place and her wardrobe probably costs more than I make in a year. But that’s why I love her. She’s the perfect woman to conduct business in a no-nonsense way.
The three weeks that I’ve been back have been a whirlwind of edits, meetings, and local promotional tours. Jamie’s literary agency works hand in hand with a publicist who helps me keep my social media regulated since the media raised questions regarding me and Corbin, but since there’s been nothing since about us, things have gone as smoothly as possible.