Page 109 of Forbidden Lyrics

“He would’ve found out anyway. He cares about us––”

“If he cared about us, he wouldn’t have disappeared for over a decade,” Gibson spits.

“He was young and stupid, Sonny. He knows he messed up, but you won’t even let him apologize––”

“That’s because I don’t need his apology, Fen. And you shouldn’t, either. You’re better than that.”

“Am I?” Fen challenges, pacing the tiny main area like a caged beast. “As far as I can tell, Dad and I seem to be cut from the same cloth. I’ve screwed up so many times, I’ve lost count, yet you keep accepting my apologies. Why can’t you accept his?”

“Because he was supposed to be my father. He was supposed to be there for me––”

“He’s trying to be there for you, Sonny, but you won’t let him. How is that his fault?” Raking his fingers through his hair, Fen tugs on the roots and looks up at us.

“Stop. Okay? Just stop,” Gibson demands. “If he shows up at any of the shows, know that I’m walking out, and I won’t be back. We clear?”

“That isn’t fair, Son––”

“And I don’t give a shit.”

The RV pulls off the freeway at the next exit, proving that Phoenix is a genius and could read the rising tension as well as I could. Unfortunately, his efforts might be too late. A heavy silence encompasses the space. I’m left feeling awkward and grateful for the nearest gas station where I can climb out, walk around, and breathe. Not for me. But for Gibson.

Right now, he needs me.

Even if he doesn’t admit it.

Even if he doesn’t recognize it himself.

I can see it.

And I’m not going anywhere.

As soon as the RV pulls into a parking spot, Fen shoves the door open, slamming it behind him.

I flinch but stay quiet. Because honestly? I have no idea what to say or how the heck I can fix this.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Dove

“He thinks we’re a happy family, Dove,” Gibson seethes, pacing the empty parking lot while wearing his fury like an expensive suit. “He thinks my dad’s a good guy. That he made a mistake. He thinks that Marty needs help and is as lost as him. He thinks there’s good in everyone. But it’s all bullshit, and he refuses to listen to me.”

With my arms at my sides, I watch him march back and forth, helpless to fix the situation yet desperate to do exactly that.

“I know, Gibbs,” I whisper. “I know.”

“I don’t want to get back on that damn RV.” He flips his arm toward the vehicle as if it’s offended him. “I don’t want to run into him. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to do anything.”

“What do you want?” I ask. The parking lot is so electric with his pent-up frustration that I’m afraid we’ll both burn to the ground at any second. But I would be okay with it if it erased Gibson’s pain. His crappy past. If it gave him an ounce of peace. He deserves to feel peace. To be able to let go of his anger. To move on and not harbor such hateful feelings for a man who helped create him.

It isn’t fair.

Gibson pauses before striding over to me and pressing his forehead against mine. My breath catches, and I cup his cheek and let his stubble tickle my fingertips. The pain he’s feeling is contagious, but so is his desperation. And his vulnerability. I’d give anything to take away his pain. But I can’t. I can only be here. It doesn’t feel like enough, but it’s all I can do.

Closing his eyes, he breathes deep, then lets his oxygen out slowly. “I want you, Dove.”

“I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“Tell me I’m right,” he pleads, soaking up my touch like the Sahara soaks up the sun. “That I’m not overreacting. That I’m being smart. Cautious. That I have a right to be wary of that asshole.”

---