Page 15 of Forbidden Lyrics

“Madelyn. Why?”

“I used to know a girl who lived here, but she moved a little while ago,” he mumbles, tearing his gaze away from the entrance before looking over at me. His face is shadowed, but I can still see the wariness in his features. Or maybe I can feel it. I’m not sure, but I feel like I’m in the middle of a minefield with no idea how to walk out of it unscathed.

“Oh?” I offer, carefully.

“Yeah. Has your sister lived here long?”

“As far as I know. We aren’t exactly close, though, so I’m not sure. Why do you ask?”

“Maybe your sister knew her.”

“I can ask her if you’d like. What was her name?”

“Emma.” He says the name with a reverence that makes my chest tighten. Or maybe it’s regret. Regardless, I flinch back slightly.

Emma.

The name’s been haunting me for weeks. It belongs to the ex who disappeared. The ex who used to sleep with Gibson and Milo. The ex who apparently used to live in my sister’s building. Which happens to now be my building too.

Greeeaaat.

“Okay. Um.” I swallow my nerves, hoping he doesn’t notice the tightness in my muscles or the way my face is probably as white as a ghost. “I’ll have to ask my sister if she knew her. Thanks for the ride.”

I grab the door handle, desperate to wake up from my daydream that somehow turned into reality before transforming into a nightmare at the mere mention of a stranger when Gibson’s smooth voice stops me.

“Do you work tomorrow?”

“Yes? Why do you ask?”

“What time?”

“Six.”

He nods. “I’ll be here at 5:30.”

“Wait. What?”

“You can ride with me.”

I shake my head. “I know where you live. And it’s on the opposite side of town––”

“You’re not taking the bus. What apartment are you in?”

Confused but too drained to argue, I tell him, “206B.”

“I’ll see you then.”

“But…” I chew on my lower lip and squeeze my purse tighter. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a burden––”

“See you tomorrow, Dove,” he tells me, his tone brooking no argument.

I climb out of his car, closing the door behind me and making my way up the cracked sidewalk to the front of the building. I can feel him watching me every step of the way, and I can’t help but peek over my shoulder when I reach the bottom steps. Only his silhouette comes into view behind the steering wheel. But he doesn’t pull away from the curb. With an awkward wave, I turn back to the stairs and make my way to the second floor before realizing that I don’t have the apartment key.

Crap.

Cringing, I tap my knuckles against the door.

Then I wait.

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