Page 52 of Forbidden Lyrics

Once I’m in the entryway, I slip off my shoes and try to steady my breathing, but it feels impossible. I can feel Fen watching me. Not in a creepy way or anything. But there’s an open curiosity there. Like I’ve intrigued him, though I have no idea how.

Why am I here right now? And where the heck is Gibson?

Standing up, I fold my arms across my chest and smile tightly at him. “Is Gibson here?”

“We’re in the kitchen,” he returns, lifting his chin in its direction. “You hungry?”

“No thanks.”

“Thirsty or anything?”

“I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“Sure thing.” We walk in silence down the hall to the bright kitchen where all the members of Broken Vows are scattered. Leaning against the fridge is Gibson, while Phoenix and Stoker are nursing beers at the cool granite island, their massive bodies making the barstools groan with their weight.

“Hey, Dove,” they all greet me as soon as I come into view.

I wave my hand awkwardly. “Hi.”

“Do you want a drink?” Gibson asks.

“I already asked her. She’s not thirsty,” Fender informs him. He shoves Stoker in the shoulder. “Get up, man. Give her a seat.”

“I’m okay,” I interject, but Stoker gets to his feet anyway.

The legs of the barstool scrape against the hardwood floor as Stoker drags it out a few inches and motions to it with a wave of his hand. “Here you go.”

“Um…” My knees wobble, but I force myself to walk over to him. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Everyone’s watching me as I sit on the edge of the stool and twist the cotton fabric of my T-shirt in my hands like it’s a dirty dishrag.

Why am I here?

“Shall we get started?” Phoenix asks, tossing his arm over my neck like we’re best friends when we’ve only spoken once or twice in my entire life.

Gibson nods. “First, I’d like to apologize for screwing up last week. I should’ve texted and reminded everyone about Hawthorne, but I spaced it. That’s on me.”

A bunch of grunts echoes throughout the room.

“And I,” Fender adds, stepping forward, “want to apologize for being an asshole and showing up late. I’m gonna do my best to keep Broken Vows a top priority from now on.”

Another round of grunts.

“Which leads us to the real reason we’re here,” he continues. “As you all know, Three Fingers bailed at the last minute for the Organized Chaos tour, which is why we were all pissed that last week didn’t work the way we wanted it to. However, a certain someone stepped in to sing for Hawthorne that night and saved our asses.”

Three sets of eyes land on me again, making me want to squirm beneath their weight.

I gulp, avoiding everyone’s gaze while staring at the swirls of gray and white in the speckled granite in front of me.

“Thanks, Dove,” Fen murmurs.

“Seriously. You shocked the hell out of me,” Stoker chimes in.

Phoenix laughs. “Me too. Who knew you could sing?”

“I-it’s not a big deal,” I interrupt. “Gibson told me to.”

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