Page 127 of Forbidden Lyrics

Dove

My phone buzzes, waking me up from a restless sleep as I press my head to the cool glass of the Greyhound Bus.

I let the call go to voicemail before a text comes through.

Gibson: Where are you? Fender’s in the hospital. Please call me.

With a gasp, I dial his number and bring the phone to my ear.

“Hey,” Gibson answers one ring later.

“What happened?”

“Fen overdosed.” His voice is quiet. Pained. And laced with so much desperation, it cripples me.

“Is he… Is he okay?” I whisper.

“He’s at the hospital. They gave him Naloxone on the way there and got him hooked up to an IV with a bunch of other shit to counter the drugs.”

“And?”

“They think he’s gonna be okay.”

“Okay,” I breathe out. “Good.”

“Where are you, Dove?” he asks, carefully. Like he’s walking a tightrope, and I may hang up at any second.

He’s right.

On a sigh, I breathe out, “I have to go––”

“Wait, please––”

“Not right now, Gibbs––”

“I need you, Dove. I’m begging you––”

“I can’t,” I choke out.

“Please, Dove. Please come to the hospital.”

“I can’t do that, either. Not right now.”

“Can you just––” He stops and lets out a low groan. One that’s filled with frustration. And regret. And desperation.

The lump in my throat thickens until I’m afraid I might choke on it.

“I need to know you’re safe, Dove,” he murmurs. “Where are you?”

“I’m fine,” I lie.

“You’re a terrible liar, Dovey––”

“And yet, you wound up being an excellent one. I guess opposites really do attract, huh?”

His silence speaks louder than if he’d bothered to confirm the truth for me.

“Dove.” He pauses. “Will you please let me explain?”

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