Forbidden lyrics, p.28
Forbidden Lyrics, page 28
“Wait,” I interrupt. “You guys don’t get it.”
“What’s wrong?” Donny asks.
“Dove and I broke up. She’s not coming back.”
Confused, Fen shakes his head as if it’ll brush away the final cobwebs and give him an explanation. Unfortunately, I’m not sure it works because he asks, “What? Why?”
“She found out about Em.” The words claw their way up my throat, leaving a trail of bile in their wake. I can’t believe I didn’t tell her. I can’t believe she left. I can’t believe I fucked everything up, and there’s no way to fix it.
I think I’m gonna be sick.
Still lost, Fen asks, “But…how’d she find out?”
“Marty sent her screenshots of my conversations with Em from my phone.”
Fen cocks his head to one side before dropping his chin to his chest. “I had your phone.”
“Yeah.”
“I told him. I was pissed, and high, and––”
“It doesn’t matter, Fen.”
“Bullshit,” he spits, his tone still weak. Then he yells, “Dammit!” His chest heaves with exertion as he looks back at me with red-rimmed eyes.
The guilt.
The shame.
The damn horror of his own actions that have finally caught up to him. Hell, they caught up to all of us. They’re all swirling in his gaze. And it guts me.
“I fucked up,” he rasps. “I didn’t mean to. I don’t know why I said it. I was jealous, Sonny. I was an ass. I’ll never forgive myself––”
“It’s okay––”
“You have to let me talk to her,” he pleads. “To convince her to give you another chance.”
I shake my head. “She’s done with me, man.”
“You don’t know that––”
“She made it pretty clear. I should’ve never kissed her. I knew I’d slept with her sister, and I still pursued her. I still wanted her. I was a selfish asshole––”
“You’re not a selfish asshole,” Fen argues. “I’m a selfish asshole.”
“Guess it runs in the family,” I mutter, my attention darting over to our quiet father.
Fen ignores my not-so-subtle jab and continues his frantic plea. “You have to go talk to her. Even if she refuses to finish the tour with you. You guys have to make up. You have to.”
Again, I shake my head. He doesn’t get it. It’s not going to happen. We’re not going to make up. We’re not going to be okay. But he doesn’t need any more guilt on his shoulders. Not when he’s already recovering from an overdose.
I rub my hand across my tired face and let out a long exhale. “Right now, I need to be with you and make sure you’re okay, Fen. Besides, Dove needs time to come to terms with shit.”
“How long have I been out?” Fen asks.
“You’ve been in and out for about twenty-four hours.”
“Then that’s enough time to come to terms with shit,” he argues. “Go see her. Go fight for her.”
With another sigh, I rub my face. Again. “I can’t leave you––”
“He won’t be alone, Gibson,” my dad interjects. “I’m not going anywhere.”
It’s the way he says it that makes me pause. The determination. The promise.
I believe him.
But it’s not enough.
“Can I trust you to keep Marty away from him?”
Donny stays quiet, but his expression is stricken with guilt, and it spurs me on.
Waving my arm at my brother lying in a hospital bed, I spit, “Marty did this. You guys are both so blinded by your relationships with him that you don’t see he’s a poisonous snake who will bite you as soon as he decides it benefits him. Look what he did to Fen. Look what he did to me and Dove. He’s poison. And I can’t let him hurt the people I love anymore.”
“I understand,” Donny replies. “I’ll make sure he keeps his distance.”
“And if he doesn’t?” I challenge.
“He loses my financial support.”
I flinch back, convinced I’ve heard him wrong. “You’d pull his funds?”
“To protect my other sons? Yes,” Donny promises. “I’m not naive, Gibson. I understand Marty has his own issues. But to push them on either of you? That’s unacceptable, and it won’t be tolerated.”
My eyes narrow as I take in his somber expression. His tight posture. His determined stare.
“Good,” I decide.
“Good,” he repeats. “You can take my private jet. My driver’s parked outside. He’ll set everything up.”
“I don’t need your help––”
“So do it for Miss Walker. From what I gather, she needs you.”
She doesn’t need me. I’m the one who needs her. And I’m the selfish bastard who’s able to admit it. Hell, I’ll scream it from the rooftops if it’ll convince her to talk to me. But leaving my brother in a hospital room isn’t exactly easy.
I sigh and turn to Fen. “You gonna be okay?”
He nods toward Donny. “He’ll take care of me.” His attention shifts to his lap, where the thin cotton sheets are bunched. “Listen, I’m sorry––”
“Don’t apologize anymore, Fen. Focus on getting better.”
“Only if you focus on fixing your shit with Dove and taking Broken Vows to the next level.”
I snort and shake my head. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Good. We’ll talk soon, Sonny. I know how to reach you. And I’ll make sure you know how to reach me,” Fen adds. “Now, get out of here.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
DOVE
The loud knock at the front door sounds like a stupid bull trying to barrel into the family room of our apartment. But I’m too terrified to answer it.
No one knocks on our door. Even UPS and FedEx don’t bother. They just leave our packages on the welcome mat. Which means that a certain someone is on the other side of the door. And that certain someone is stubborn as an ox––or a bull from the sound of it––and isn’t going anywhere until I answer.
“You gonna get that?” Mads asks, leaning against the doorway to my room. I’ve been holed up in here for what feels like weeks. My desire to do anything is less than stellar. Even after our conversation, I haven’t been able to find the enthusiasm to face life. Or it’s problems.
So many problems.
“I can tell him to leave if you want,” she offers carefully. “But you know my stance on––” She pauses and presses her hand to her stomach, her brows pinching as she lets out a slow, unsteady breath.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Fine. Braxton Hicks are a bitch.” Knock. Knock. “You should talk to him, Dove.”
“I’ll handle it,” I mutter.
Thump. Thump.
“Like…today?” she asks. “‘Cause I’m pretty sure he might break down the door––”
His loud knock shakes the pictures on the walls.
She waves her hand toward the rattled frames. “Case in point. Besides, if you want me to hold up my end of the deal, you need to hold up yours, remember?”
“I’ll handle it,” I repeat, forcing myself to my feet.
Chewing on my lower lip, I shift toward the door before opening it a few inches and peeking through the crack.
There he is. The man who’s been haunting me since I first laid eyes on him. The one who managed to get under my skin with a single smirk and hasn’t bothered to let me go ever since. The one who insisted he’s the bard and turned me into a fool. And now that we’re face to face, I’m not sure I can hold up my end of the bargain with Maddie. I’m not sure I can put his past aside and focus on our future. Because I have no idea what kind of future we can have or if he even still wants one with me.
I stay quiet and stare at him, waiting for him to say something that can put our relationship back together again, but I have no idea what would do the trick. Not when his potential baby is in my sister’s stomach.
When our gazes connect, he breathes out, “Dovey.” Like my name is a prayer. A plea. His eyes are bloodshot, and he looks exhausted, yet the combination only makes him look more appealing. As if I could be the one to fix the bags under his eyes or the frown etched into his handsome features.
I swallow thickly, tuck my hair behind my ear, and drop my gaze to the ground. “How’s Fen?”
A puff of air leaves his lungs, and he shrugs one shoulder. “I dunno. Okay, I guess. My dad came to the hospital.”
Shocked, I look back up at him.
“Yeah,” he mutters, reading my mind. “It went okay. He stepped in. Stepped up.”
“That’s good, Gibbs.”
“Yeah. He, uh.” Gibson squeezes the back of his neck. “He’s gonna help Fen check into a rehab place.”
“That’s good,” I repeat, my voice nothing but a whisper.
He nods, though I can still see his reservations. His fear from almost losing his brother. His need to make everything better despite it being out of his control. His hesitation to talk to me or let me in again after I abandoned him to deal with everything on his own. My arms itch to reach out and hold him, but I fold them across my chest instead.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come,” I whisper.
“It’s not your fault.”
It is, but I don’t argue with him. I pull my lips into a thin line and wait. For him to say something. For us to make up, though I have no idea how. For things to go back to the way they were, even when I know it’s impossible.
I don’t know what he expects me to say. I don’t know what he expects me to do. I feel lost. Helpless. And so damn broken without him that I’m not sure I’ll survive this conversation.
“Can I… Can I come in?” he asks, looking down at me through his dark lashes that any woman would kill for.
“My sister’s inside.”
“I need to talk to her too.”
Of course, he does.
I sniff but step aside and let him in.
“Thanks,” he murmurs as he passes me, but he stops at the entryway, unsure what to do or where to go.
Good question, Gibbs. I have no idea.
I lick my lips and motion to the couch, praying he can’t see the way I’m trembling like a freaking leaf right now. “You can, uh, take a seat. I’ll go get Mads.”
“I’m right here,” Maddie interrupts, her hand on her swollen belly and her hair pulled into a messy bun on top of her head. She looks gorgeous in an effortless kind of way. But that’s how she’s always been. Even before she started dying her strawberry blonde hair that always made me jealous a dark chestnut. Even before she mastered eyeliner and I even knew what it was, she was––is––breathtaking. She’s always been the one to shine. The one to stand out. The one that everyone noticed while I always blended into the background. I was always forgettable.
But not Mads.
Never Mads.
And I know Gibson must’ve thought the same thing. Because he slept with her.
For months.
Until she ended it.
Not him.
Her.
Would they still be together if it weren’t for Maddie’s feelings for Milo? Should they give things another try if the baby’s his? Would I be able to handle it if they did?
My stomach churns with acid, but I swallow it back as I take a seat on the floor opposite Gibson and wait to see which seat Maddie will choose. There’s a chair tucked in the corner or the cushion next to Gibson’s. She doesn’t hesitate, sitting opposite Gibson and next to me in the wooden rocking chair before arranging the decorative pillow behind her back to get more comfortable.
And we sit.
In silence.
Our gazes shift from one person to the other in some messed up version of Who Dunnit.
And I’m afraid I might choke on it.
The suffocating silence. The weighted looks. The knowledge that the love of my life knows what my sister looks like naked. That the baby inside her belly might be his. That I’ll always be second to her. Because she was first. Just like always.
Why did I think Gibson would be any different?
“I can see it now,” he mentions, his voice quiet yet still booming in the otherwise silent room. “The resemblance. When I first met Dove, I knew she looked familiar, but I couldn’t place how or why. I can see it now.”
“Is that why you came?” I ask. “To discuss our similarities?”
“No.” Silence. “I guess not.”
“Then why are you here?” I murmur.
“Because you both deserve an apology face-to-face.” His gaze shifts from mine to Maddie’s. “Em––Maddie––”
“You can still call me Em,” she clarifies, shifting in her seat as her forehead wrinkles. Like she’s distracted. Uncomfortable. Probably another Braxton Hicks, though I’m not sure.
“Em.” Gibson clears his throat. “I’m sorry for how things played out. I’m sorry you’ve felt like you needed to handle this pregnancy on your own. I’m sorry I was an ass when we were texting and that I wasn’t as sensitive as I should’ve been. I was scared to acknowledge that my life might be changing when this baby’s born. I was scared that I might lose the one person I’ve ever loved because of my past, and I thought that sticking my head in the sand might fix it. But it’s no excuse. And it wasn’t a plausible solution, either.”
Maddie nods but doesn’t reply.
“I have a shitty relationship with my dad,” he explains, “but if this child’s mine, I want to be involved. I want to be a good father. I want to break the cycle of shitty parenthood and be there. Financially. Physically. Emotionally. I wanna know my kid. And I want you to let me.”
Maddie’s lips are pulled into a thin line, her hands propped on top of her basketball belly, but still, she doesn’t say a word. She just stares blankly back at him. But can see past her façade. Her fear of the unknown. Her fear of letting someone in. Her fear of raising a child by herself, let alone with one of the three potential fathers.
“When can I take a paternity test?” he prods.
More silence.
“Madelyn wants to wait until after the baby’s born,” I answer for her. “That shouldn’t be for another two months or so, but Walker women are known for having their babies super early, so we’re taking it a day at a time.”
He nods. “Okay. And what about the third guy? Does he know?”
“There wasn’t a third guy,” I lie. “She didn’t know how to tell any of us the truth.”
His eyes widen in surprise as he turns to Maddie. “So, you weren’t sleeping with Marty?”
“W-what?” The mere mention of him shakes her out of the numb blanket she usually wraps around herself before she demands, “Why would you think I was sleeping with Marty?”
“He said––”
“He’s a liar, Gibson,” she spits, her surprise morphing into full-blown anger. “He was only trying to get under your skin. Do you honestly believe a single word that comes out of his lying mouth?”
My chest tightens as the lie slips past her lips. But I get why she’s saying it. Why she’s keeping the truth from everyone. She’s protecting her baby. And if I were in her shoes, I’m afraid that I’d do the same thing.
Marty’s bad news. The further he stays away from my sister and her unborn child, the better.
“Okay,” Gibson concedes, sensing Maddie’s revulsion. “So, it’s Milo or me. We can wait––”
“You can’t tell Milo,” Maddie interrupts. Then she bends forward and cradles her stomach, letting out a slow breath, distracted by another Braxton Hicks.
“We’ve already talked about this,” Gibson reminds her. “He has a right to know.”
“Only if your paternity test is negative,” she counters.
“I’ve lied long enough, Em.”
“Just a little bit longer,” she begs, her breathing ragged. “Please. And you’re not lying or keeping anything from him if the baby’s yours.”
“Yes, I am,” Gibson pushes. “He’s one of my best friends, Em. Whether or not I’m the father, I’m keeping something from him. Something big.”
With another shaky breath, she looks up at him and unfolds from her crouched position, the contraction passing. “But you know how much he doesn’t want to be a dad. You know how much he hates me. You know that this news will gut him––”
“It’ll gut him whether or not he’s the father,” Gibbs argues. “He has the right to deal with it before the baby’s born. To accept his potential future.”
“And how do you think he’s gonna deal with it, Gibbs? Huh? He’ll lose his mind––”
“He’ll step up, Em. He’s a good guy.”
Holding back tears, she chokes out, “He hates me––”
“He’ll suck it up for the kid.”
“I don’t want to be a charity case.”
“You don’t have a choice. This is life. This is what a consequence looks like.” His voice softens. “But you’re gonna be a good mom, Em. No matter who the father is, the baby’s gonna be loved. He or she is gonna be looked after. And probably spoiled rotten,” he adds, his mouth tilting up in a ghost of a smile. One that makes my insides tighten with jealousy. And maybe a little hope too. I want my niece or nephew to be spoiled. And loved. And to have a good father, no matter how much it hurts me.
Gibson will be a good father.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he assures her. “I promise.” His gaze shifts to mine. “I promise,” he repeats before looking back at my sister. His ex. “Em, can I have some privacy with Dove?”
“Sure.” She pushes herself up from the rocking chair. “Can I ask you something first?”
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t ever love me, right?”
He frowns. “I’m sorry, Em––”
“It’s okay,” she laughs. “I didn’t ever love you, either. But you love Dove. Don’t you?”
His Adam’s apple bobs up and down before his attention zeroes in on me all over again. “More than anything.”
“I hope you stick around,” she announces. “Regardless of whether or not my little peanut belongs to you. You guys have my blessing. Not that it matters. You guys are welcome to do whatever you want. But I think you two are pretty perfect for each other. You’d both be fools to throw it away.”
