Page 133 of Forbidden Lyrics

“A few months,” she returns quietly.

“Did you love him?”

She shakes her head. “Of course not––”

“Did he love you?”

“Dove––”

“Answer the question.”

She inches her hand toward my leg but doesn’t touch me. Why would she? She’s impenetrable. She doesn’t feel. She doesn’t care about anyone but herself. Or maybe it’s self-preservation. After all, if you’re the first to leave, you can’t be left. If you don’t ever let anyone in, they’ll never get close enough to hurt you.

If only I had the same discipline.

Staring at her hand an inch away from me, I clench my own into fists but stay silent.

“No, Dove,” she murmurs after a few long seconds. “He never loved me.”

With a jerky nod, I wipe away the single tear that has slipped past my defenses and let out a long, slow breath. “Why’d you end it? The relationship?”

“Like I said, it was hardly a relationship. It was more of an…arrangement.”

I scoff and roll my watery eyes. “‘Cause that makes it better.”

“Dove––”

“Where’d you two meet?” I ask.

“I met him through his half-brother’s friend, Marty.”

The name makes me flinch back.

Fender’s friend. Not brother. She doesn’t know they’re related. At least Gibson was honest about one thing. His relationship with Marty and Donny Hayes is far from public.

But still. It doesn’t make sense.

“Wait.” I pause, scrambling to piece together the information she’s given me, though I have no idea how to make it fit. “You know Marty?”

“You know Marty?” she challenges. Her tone rises, and her eyes are wide with panic. “Dove, I’m serious. Stay away from him. He’s nothing like Gibbs or Fender. He’s a bad guy. Like really bad. And I’m not just saying that to be a bitch––”

“I know,” I interrupt. “I won’t go near him.”

“Promise me,” she begs.

“I promise.”

Her worried gaze bounces around my face, searching for my sincerity before she takes a deep breath and nods. “Good.”

“So you…you met Gibbs through Marty?” I prompt, wrapping my arms around my knees.

“Yeah. Gibbs and Milo showed up to take Fen home after he got into a fight with one of Marty’s friends one night.”

“And you all…what? Jumped into bed together?” I surmise bitterly.

She rolls her eyes. “Gee, Dove, way to put it delicately.”

“Then tell me what it was like!” I demand, my frustration boiling over. “I’m sick of trying to understand where you’re coming from when every single response of yours is still as closed off and cryptic as before.”

---