Page 132 of Forbidden Lyrics

Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t reply.

Jaw tight, I look up at her. “Who’s Em, Maddie?”

“Dove––”

“Answer the question.”

She gulps and tucks her freshly-washed hair behind her ear. “I wanted to tell you.”

“Bullshit,” I spit, holding her stare. My own flesh and blood. The one person whose shadow has always haunted me. Who’s shadow will always haunt me.

“Dove––”

“Bullshit,” I repeat, my anger growing with every passing second. “I saw the texts. You made him promise that he wouldn’t tell me about your guys’ relationship or whatever it was, so don’t lie to me and say that you wanted to tell me. ‘Cause that’s a load of crap, and we both know it. But it’s not like you talk to me anyway, so I guess I shouldn’t really have been that surprised, huh?”

“Listen––”

“No. You listen, Madelyn. I moved out here because I wanted to be closer to you. Because I wanted to salvage our crappy relationship. Because I care about you. But if you really want me gone and think I’m wasting my time by staying here, you need to tell me right now. Are we clear?”

“Dove––”

“Are. We. Clear?” I spit.

Her lower lip quivers before she pulls it between her teeth and bites down hard, turning her plump flesh white from the pressure. But it’s the sheen in her eyes that does me in as she avoids my gaze. The hint that she cares. That she might actually want me here. That she might actually value our relationship, no matter how precarious it might be. That she might actually feel guilt for ruining any potential relationship Gibson and I could’ve ever had.

“Answer me, Maddie,” I spit, refusing to back down.

She sniffs quietly, peeking over at me. “Yes. Yes, I want you here.”

“Then you need to start being honest with me. From here on out, no more lies. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” My chest heaves with pent-up energy as I dive right in. “Why didn’t you tell me? And I want the real answer.”

“I tried to.” When she takes in my glare, she defends, “Maybe not the whole story, but I did try to tell you to stay away from him.”

“So it’s my fault?” I seethe.

“No, I––”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were Em? And why the hell were you Em in the first place?” I add, shaking my head back and forth. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“You don’t get it––”

“Of course I don’t because you don’t tell me anything. Help me understand,” I demand.

“I…” She wrings her hands in her lap. “I was looking for a new start when I moved here, Dove. I was tired of being Madelyn or Maddie or Mads. I wanted to turn over a new leaf. I wanted to forget my past and all the shit I went through, disappointing Mom and Dad over and over again until my self-esteem couldn’t get any lower. So, I called myself ‘M.’ As in the letter, not the name,” she clarifies. “And it stuck.”

I set my barely touched breakfast on the chipped nightstand before shoving my messy hair away from my face and tucking my knees to my chest.

“And Gibbs?” I choke out. “How long was your relationship with him?”

Her chin falls to her chest before she shakes her head. “It was hardly a relationship––”

“Answer the question,” I order, trying to keep my voice from cracking, though I have no idea whether or not I’m successful. This is just too much. No one should ever need to have this conversation, but how am I supposed to sweep it under the rug?

The single bite of Eggo sits like a stone in my stomach as I swallow back the bile that creeps up my throat.

---