Forbidden lyrics, p.29
Forbidden Lyrics, page 29
“I’m not throwing anything away,” Gibson argues.
But I stay quiet.
How am I throwing him away if he was never mine in the first place?
“He doesn’t love me, Dove,” Maddie tells me, reading my mind while pretending Gibson isn’t sitting five feet away. “He never loved me. We were using each other for a good time. That’s it.”
With a shaky breath, I avoid everyone’s gazes, staring blankly at the worn, brown carpet beneath my bum as I voice my greatest fear. “I can’t compare myself to you anymore, Mads––”
“Then don’t,” she returns. “There’s no comparison, anyway. Not for Gibbs.”
I blink back tears and try not to lose my battle with my emotions in front of them, but it isn’t easy. I’m close to breaking. Hell, I’m already broken and am holding myself together by sheer will. But I can feel it––the seams threatening to unravel. I want to run away and hide. But there is no hiding from this. It’s too complicated. Too overwhelming. Too much in general.
“Look at it this way, Dove,” she continues, hunching slightly before leaning against the wall and pressing her hand against her stomach. “If he had a child with someone else, would it make you love him any less?”
The question hits like a ton of bricks, and my breathing turns ragged. Because I don’t think it would. I’d accept him and his past and his kids. I’d accept his flaws and his strengths without hesitation. They’re part of him. And without his past, we might not have ever met. And I wouldn’t be who I am today. I’d be just as lost, just as lonely as before.
The floors creak softly as Maddie waddles down the hall, closing her bedroom door behind her, blanketing us in privacy and a silence so loud that it makes my ears ring.
But I’m oh so aware of Gibson.
Even though my blurry gaze is focused on my hands in my lap, I can still see him moving toward me, making my skin prickle with awareness as he slides onto his butt. On the floor. Next to me.
With his back pressed to the second-hand entertainment center, he scoots closer, making my heart rate climb with every passing second.
“I love you, Dovey,” he murmurs, his deep voice breaking the silence.
The knife in my chest twists, but I stay quiet, ignoring the heat that emanates from his body beside me and how much I want to lean into it. I’m desperate for his warmth. His touch. His comfort. But I stay upright and stare blankly in front of me. If I give in––if I look at him––the final barrier around my heart will crack. And I’m not sure I’ll survive it.
“No matter what happens with everything, I’ll still love you, Dovey. I’ll still want you. I’ll still choose you. Only you. Always you.”
His words imprint themselves on my soul, but I keep my head down and avoid his gaze. Because love might not be enough. Not right now. Not under these circumstances.
“Gibbs.” I take a shaky breath. “My niece or nephew deserves a father––”
“And he or she will get one no matter what,” he promises. “Especially now that I know there wasn’t a third guy. But I need you to understand that becoming a father has nothing to do with my love for you. It might be hard, but I don’t want to have to choose. I want us. I want you. I need you. And I know that’s selfish,” he adds, his voice laced with self-deprecation. “To need you even when it hurts you. But I do. I need you right now, Dove. And I think you might need me too.”
“I can’t live in her shadow,” I choke out, my eyes glassy.
He shakes his head and grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You don’t get it, Dove. You’ve never lived in her shadow. She might be your sister, but you’ve always shined to me. So damn bright that it makes my eyes hurt sometimes,” he adds with a breath of laughter.
“Why is that so funny?” I question.
“Because you haven’t shined for me alone.”
My brows pinch. “What do you mean?”
“They want you. They want us,” he corrects.
“What do you mean?” I repeat, feeling whiplashed.
“Fender’s gonna be in rehab for the rest of the tour. They want us to finish it. You and me. Because you stole the show, Dovey. They saw what I see every time I look at you. And you’ve left them wanting more. You shined too damn bright.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as the memories––the feelings––of being on stage hit me from all sides. The rush. The lights. The absolute euphoria. It’s something you can’t find anywhere else. And I’ll miss it almost as much as I’ll miss Gibson if we don’t get this worked out.
“I can’t finish the tour,” I whisper.
“Why not?”
I shrug one shoulder but stay quiet. I don’t know what to say. It’s too complicated. Just like we are.
“If it’s because you don’t want to, then I fully support you. I’ll call Hawthorne right now, and I’ll tell him we’re out,” he declares, his thumb running along my jawline. “But if it’s because you’re scared, I’ll push you to do it. Not because I give a shit about Broken Vows, but because I give a shit about you. And you love being on stage, Dove. I can see it. They can see it. You were made to be up there. To sing. To steal the show. So why? Why can’t you finish?”
“My sister––”
“Will be fine. She’d tell you the same thing if she wasn’t in her room right now.”
“But you and I––”
“Will be fine too.”
I shake my head. “You sound so sure––”
“It’s because I am. Yeah, shit’s complicated. But life gets complicated. I want you. I need you. Regardless of whether or not I’m going to be a father. I love you, Dove Walker. And I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to fight for you.”
Crack.
The final barrier I’d kept in place to protect me finally crumbles, the sincerity in his gaze hitting me like a sledgehammer.
No one’s ever fought for me.
Until now.
As he rubs his thumb along my quivering bottom lip, a single tear drips down my cheek before I whisper, “I love you too, Gibson Hayes.”
He presses his lips to mine, dragging his tongue along the seam, and I open myself to him. My mouth. My heart. My soul. Until everything is laid bare in our kiss. Our regrets. Our hope. And most of all, our love.
With a simple kiss, a tiny seed of hope is planted. That everything is going to be okay. That we’ll be okay. That I might not be the fool after all. As long as we have each other.
A loud crash echoes from down the hall, making me jerk away from Gibson.
What was that?
“Mads?” I call out.
Silence.
“Mads? You okay?”
A low, muffled moan is all I hear in response.
Pushing to my feet, I rush down the hall, and Gibbs follows behind. Without bothering to knock, I shove the door open to find Maddie hunched over on her bed, broken glass scattered on the floor.
“Mads, what’s going on?” I demand.
“I’m fine,” she forces out between staggered breaths.
“Maddie––”
“It’s just Braxton Hicks. A rough one hit, and I knocked over my glass. I’m fine. Promise.”
I look at Gibson behind me, and he shakes his head warily. Like he doesn’t believe her, either.
With a deep breath, I turn back to my sister. “Where are your shoes?”
“I’m fine, Dove.”
Gibson rummages through her closet, grabbing a pair of running shoes without waiting for her permission. The glass crunches beneath his boots as he hands them off to her. “Do you need help putting them on?”
“You guys, I’m f––” Her face scrunches, and she lets out another low moan.
“Let’s go check, Mads. The doctor said to go to the hospital if you start having consistent contractions.”
“They’re not consistent.”
“Then I’m sure they’ll tell us that you’re fine, and we can grab some Taco Bell on the way home. Deal?”
She lifts her head toward the ceiling, her mouth forming a tiny ‘O’ as she tries to get a handle on the situation and the pain shooting across her lower abdomen.
“Come on, Mads––”
“I’m not ready,” she confesses, finally looking at me. The fear in her eyes is more telling than I know she’d like to admit.
She’s right.
She’s not ready.
In more ways than one.
“It’ll be okay,” I promise her. “Maybe the doctor will give you some kind of medication to slow the contractions. But we need to get there so we can get some answers and keep your little peanut safe, okay?”
She nods and slips the shoes onto her feet, her face contorting in pain as another contraction hits her, lasting a little over thirty seconds before it passes.
When it does, Gibson offers his hand to her, but she doesn’t take it as she forces herself to her feet. Unoffended, he drops his hand back to his side and follows us out the front door.
“I’ll drive,” Gibson offers when we reach the sidewalk of the apartment complex.
Both Maddie and I climb into the back, and she closes her eyes before grabbing my hand and squeezing it with all her might.
“Which hospital?” Gibson asks as the engine revs to life.
“The one on Fifth and Second Streets,” I answer.
Peeling out of the parking lot, the tires squeal against the dark pavement. His knuckles are white as he strangles the steering wheel and presses the gas a little harder, the speedometer ratcheting even higher.
Maddie’s grip on my hand lessens, but she doesn’t let go of me as the trees whir by us on each side of the car. With her head on my shoulder, she prepares for the next contraction that shouldn’t be happening for another two months.
“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper.
“It’s too early.”
“You were early too, and look how you turned out,” I remind her.
She laughs, but it sounds like more of a whimper than anything else. “Not exactly comforting right now, Dove.”
I join in, resting my head on top of hers while battling my nerves over the fact that these are clearly not Braxton Hicks contractions. Which means Peanut’s coming. Or something’s wrong.
And just like that, all of my other problems with Gibson and Madelyn seem trivial. Because I’m going to be an aunt. And I need the little one to be okay.
I bite my lip and say a prayer to keep them safe and grip Maddie a little tighter.
“We got this, Mads.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
DOVE
When we reach the hospital, they admit her instantly. They hook Maddie up to a bunch of machines that monitor the baby’s heart rate as well as her own before checking her cervix to see how productive her contractions have been.
Gibson offered to stay in the waiting room, and Maddie agreed that it would be best if she could have some space. Me, however, she’s kept by her side constantly, which is weird since convincing her to let me tag along to any of her doctor appointments has been a solid no-go throughout her entire pregnancy. But now that it’s time to meet her little peanut, she’s terrified of being alone.
And I don’t blame her.
I’m not going anywhere.
Once the doctor finishes checking her, he pulls off his gloves and tosses them in the trash.
“You’re dilated to a six, and the sac is bulging,” Dr. Sheffler announces. “We’ll do our best to postpone the delivery for as long as possible, but as soon as your water breaks, we have twenty-four hours to deliver. We’re going to keep you here and keep a close eye on you. The nurse has already been administering the medicine that should help slow the contractions, but I’m going to be honest with you. I think this baby’s coming within the next forty-eight hours.”
My eyes bug out of my head as I register the possible timeline.
Forty-eight hours?
I look down at Maddie hooked up to a bunch of beeping machines. Looking helpless. And numb. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. We’d taken every precaution, but the truth is that this entire situation is out of our hands. And that’s terrifying.
“What’s the likelihood of my baby making it?” Maddie asks, her face void of any expression.
“We have a level four Neonatal Intensive Care Unit on site.”
“And what does that mean exactly?”
“It means they know how to take care of a preemie, Ms. Walker. We’ll do everything we can to keep you and Baby safe. I promise.”
“And the likelihood?” she pushes back. The fire I’ve grown accustomed to simmers just beneath the surface as Maddie stares Dr. Sheffler straight in the eye, daring him to tell her that her baby won’t be okay.
This is the Maddie I know. The woman’s fearless. And she’s going to get through this. No matter what.
“There’s a ninety-nine percent chance that your baby will be fine. Little,” he clarifies, “but fine. If I had to guess, your baby will be in the NICU for around a month so we can monitor them and make sure they reach all of their milestones.”
“What kind of milestones?” I ask.
“We have to make sure they can breathe on their own, have regular bowel movements and wet diapers, and can eat without any issues. But I really do think everything is going to be okay.”
I sag against the edge of the hospital bed, trying to keep my hope in check but feeling relieved nonetheless. Ninety-nine percent. We can work with that.
Maddie gives him a jerky nod, registering his comment carefully to make sure she doesn’t misinterpret anything.
“Okay,” she breathes out. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he returns patiently.
“And when can we do a paternity test?” I ask.
Dr. Sheffler’s gaze shifts from me to Maddie. Again, she nods, silently approving the question.
Clearing his throat, he answers, “As soon as the baby is stable. Do you already have a test?”
I shake my head. “No. I don’t even know where I’d get one.”
“We’ve worked with a few companies in the past. If it’s all right with Ms. Walker, I can get you the contact information.”
“Thank you,” Maddie returns. “That would be great.”
“All right. Any more questions?” he asks.
“Mads?” I prod, careful not to mess with her IV as I reach for her hand and squeeze it. “Do you have any other questions?”
She shakes her head, still pale. Still unable to let herself hope that everything’s going to be okay. And I get it. I’m only the aunt. I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for her. She’s the mother. It has to be eating her up inside. The unknown. The unpredictability. The harsh truth that this delivery is out of her control. Now, it’s a waiting game.
“I guess that’s it,” I answer, fighting to stay strong when all I really want to do is curl up next to Mads in her hospital bed and pretend that everything’s going to be okay when the reality is simple. We don’t know if it is. Not yet. Even with the odds of everything turning out well, anything can happen. I know it. And so does Maddie.
“Okay.” Dr. Sheffler dips his chin and gets to his feet. “The nurse will be keeping a close eye on you, but if you need anything, push the nurse’s button, and she’ll be right in.”
With a tight smile, I return, “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
He leaves us alone with nothing but the beeping machines and the hustle and bustle from the hallway to comfort us.
I try to let go of Maddie’s hand, but she holds on for dear life.
“How are you doing?” I ask.
Letting out a slow, long breath, she takes in the stupid beeping machines surrounding her before shrugging one shoulder. “The pain meds have helped a lot.”
“That’s good.”
“Yup.” She takes another deep breath, staring blankly at the wall behind me. Still nervous. Still lost.
“Do you want me to call Mom and Dad to let them know?” I offer, one-handedly fussing with the thin, white hospital sheets.
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay…” I grimace, desperate to fill the silence. “What are you thinking about?”
Another slow, long breath escapes her. Then she looks at me and raises her chin, determination seeping from every pore. “I want you to finish the tour.”
“What? Maddie––”
“I’m serious, Dove. I’m glad you’re here, and I can’t wait for you to meet my little peanut, but I need you to go.”
Ouch.
I shake my head, trying to understand where she’s coming from without letting myself be offended or hurt by her request.
But still.
Ouch.
“Why?” I whisper. I thought we’d moved past this. I thought we were closer. I thought I’d proved she could rely on me. It doesn’t make any sense, especially when she’s gripping my hand like it’s her only lifeline.
“I just do,” she answers, squeezing my hand one more time before letting me go. “I love you. And I love that you turned your world upside to come rescue me from my own decisions, but I need you to still live your life. I need you to go and have fun, and make mistakes, and be happy.”
“I can be happy at home, Mads––”
“Did you know why I was mad at you when you first moved in?” she asks.
I tilt my head to one side. “What do you mean?”
“I was mad because I felt guilty. That I’d screwed up and that I couldn’t handle the consequences on my own. I was scared, Dove. But you swooped in and saved the day.”
“And I’d do it again,” I argue. “Mads––”
“I know you would. That’s why you’re here. At this hospital. Because you do swoop in. You do save the day. And even though I’m more grateful than I can ever explain, I need you to go so that I can do this on my own.”
I shake my head. “I’m not going to leave you––”
“I need you to. After you meet her––or him––I need you to go. Not forever or anything. Just for the tour. I want you to have fun. I want you to live life instead of being tied down to consequences that were never yours to handle. Can you do that for me? Please?”
