Page 134 of Forbidden Lyrics

“Look, it’s hard for me to talk about this––”

“And you think it isn’t hard for me?” I screech. “Maddie, I loved him!”

“I know, Dove.” She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I know.”

“Why don’t you stop thinking about yourself and give me some freaking answers for once in your life? I’m done begging. I’m done catering to you. Talk to me, dammit! How did you become this person? How did you wind up in bed with two guys, one of whom ended up being the love of my life before he broke me? Huh? Tell. Me.”

My chest heaves, and my skin feels too tight for my body as my blood heats and races through my veins.

I can’t do this anymore.

With another sigh, she scoots closer to me, rests her back against the headboard, and crosses her ankles before lying her head on my shoulder like when we were kids. Before puberty. Before we understood our parents' expectations or the cookie-cutter boxes they’d placed us in. Before she started to hate me for being the obedient child. Before our relationship fell apart.

And I hate how good it feels. To be close to her. To feel her open up, even if it’s only a little bit. This is all I ever wanted. Her trust. Funny how she had to break mine before she’d give me a chance to earn hers.

But that doesn’t make this fair.

Still hurt, I keep my spine straight, but I don’t shrug away from her. Instead, I wait. For her to finally give me the answers we both know I’ve deserved since Gibson showed up at our door.

“When I was finally out from under Mom and Dad’s thumbs, I went a little crazy,” she admits. “I made a ton of bad decisions. I experimented with drugs and threesomes. I was stupid. And careless. And I had no idea how big of an effect my stupidity would really have. But, yes. We just…jumped into bed together.”

And there it is.

The truth.

Finally.

I sniff, trying to get my muscles to relax, though it feels impossible.

“Who’s idea was it?” I whisper.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

Another sigh. “It was Milo’s,” she answers. “He approached me and asked if I’d be interested. I said yes.”

“Do you regret it?”

“I regret a lot of things, Dove. But you know me. If I don’t experience something, I don’t learn from it. And that includes my successes as well as my failures. So no, I don’t regret sleeping with them. I regret hurting them. I regret coming in between their friendship. And I regret blowing up on them when I said I couldn’t do it anymore.” She pauses as if lost in the memory. And I let her stay there. Giving her time to come to whatever conclusions––whatever closure––she might need even though she doesn’t deserve my patience. Not after everything she kept from me.

“But I learned a lot too,” she decides. “I learned that the fast life isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. I learned that I want to settle down. That I want a real relationship outside of sex and alcohol. That I want a family some day.” She presses her hand to her stomach, looking down at the life growing inside of her. “And I guess I got what I wanted, even if it happened a lot earlier than I anticipated, and it didn’t wind up exactly how I planned.”

“So, that’s why you ended it? Because you didn’t want only sex anymore?”

Her head bobs up and down against my shoulder. “I realized I was in love with Milo, but he didn’t want the same thing.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Trust me. He made it very clear,” she mutters, sagging against me even more. As if the weight of the conversation is not only emotionally draining but also physically.

“Does he know you’re pregnant?” I ask.

“No.”

“Who’s the father, Mads?”

She sniffles before peeking up at me. Tiny droplets of moisture cling to her long lashes, but they don’t fall down her cheeks. The sight manages to eek past my anger and frustration. Maddie isn’t a crier. She’s the strong one. The unbreakable one. The steel to my glass. Forged from pain and stubbornness and maybe a little resentment, too, but she doesn’t cry. Not since we were little.

---