Page 100 of Forbidden Lyrics

“Yeah, of course.”

“Okay.”

“We’re leaving pretty early Friday morning,” Fender interrupts. “Why don’t you guys sleep at the same place, and I’ll pick you up around six or so. Does that work for everyone?”

“Actually, I should probably stay at my apartment that night,” I return. “Spend some time with my sister.”

“Would she not be okay if Sonny stayed over too?” Fen asks.

I cringe. “Yeah, no. I don’t see that going well. But I can drive over to Gibson’s bright and early, and you can still pick us both up at the same place.”

“Nah. We can swing by,” Gibbs decides. “Your place is kinda on the way, anyway. No worries, Dovey.”

Liar.

I almost call him out but decide against it. After all, he’s bending over backward for me. And it’s kind of nice. Refreshing almost. Usually, it feels like I’m the one bending over backward.

“Perfect,” Fen replies. “I’ll see you guys later––”

“Hey, Fen?” Gibson calls.

“Yeah?”

“Have you seen Marty?”

Fen’s sigh speaks louder than words. “I told you I’d stay clean for the tour.”

“Still need to hear you say it, man,” Gibbs reminds him.

“I met Dad and Marty for lunch a couple days ago to talk about the tour and catch up.”

“Fen––”

“Look, I don’t want to hear it. You’re welcome to have a shitty relationship with family, but you can’t get pissed at me for wanting to salvage mine.”

“Marty’s an ass, Fen. The only reason he likes you around is because he’s your dealer––”

“Shut up, Sonny,” Fender mutters, but he isn't angry. He’s defeated.

A frustrated Gibson squeezes the fork in his hand until his knuckles turn white, but I place my palm on top of his fist, praying he’ll calm down and simply breathe.

He looks down at my innocent touch, then lets out a slow exhale. “Just promise me you’re clean.”

“I’m clean, man. I won’t screw up this time.”

My heart cracks. Even I can hear the indecision in his voice. The tightrope he’s forced to walk between what’s right and what he wants.

It sucks.

“Love you, brother,” Gibson rasps.

“Yeah. You too, Sonny.”

The call goes dead, and the earlier excitement and happiness buzzing through my veins disappears right along with Fender’s call.

“You okay?” I murmur, rubbing my fingers along the back of his clenched fist resting on top of the counter.

“Yeah,” Gibbs lies.

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