Page 141 of Forbidden Lyrics

“Dove and I broke up. She’s not coming back.”

Confused, Fen shakes his head as if it’ll brush away the final cobwebs and give him an explanation. Unfortunately, I’m not sure it works because he asks, “What? Why?”

“She found out about Em.” The words claw their way up my throat, leaving a trail of bile in their wake. I can’t believe I didn’t tell her. I can’t believe she left. I can’t believe I fucked everything up, and there’s no way to fix it.

I think I’m gonna be sick.

Still lost, Fen asks, “But…how’d she find out?”

“Marty sent her screenshots of my conversations with Em from my phone.”

Fen cocks his head to one side before dropping his chin to his chest. “I had your phone.”

“Yeah.”

“I told him. I was pissed, and high, and––”

“It doesn’t matter, Fen.”

“Bullshit,” he spits, his tone still weak. Then he yells, “Dammit!” His chest heaves with exertion as he looks back at me with red-rimmed eyes.

The guilt.

The shame.

The damn horror of his own actions that have finally caught up to him. Hell, they caught up to all of us. They’re all swirling in his gaze. And it guts me.

“I fucked up,” he rasps. “I didn’t mean to. I don’t know why I said it. I was jealous, Sonny. I was an ass. I’ll never forgive myself––”

“It’s okay––”

“You have to let me talk to her,” he pleads. “To convince her to give you another chance.”

I shake my head. “She’s done with me, man.”

“You don’t know that––”

“She made it pretty clear. I should’ve never kissed her. I knew I’d slept with her sister, and I still pursued her. I still wanted her. I was a selfish asshole––”

“You’re not a selfish asshole,” Fen argues. “I’m a selfish asshole.”

“Guess it runs in the family,” I mutter, my attention darting over to our quiet father.

Fen ignores my not-so-subtle jab and continues his frantic plea. “You have to go talk to her. Even if she refuses to finish the tour with you. You guys have to make up. You have to.”

Again, I shake my head. He doesn’t get it. It’s not going to happen. We’re not going to make up. We’re not going to be okay. But he doesn’t need any more guilt on his shoulders. Not when he’s already recovering from an overdose.

I rub my hand across my tired face and let out a long exhale. “Right now, I need to be with you and make sure you’re okay, Fen. Besides, Dove needs time to come to terms with shit.”

“How long have I been out?” Fen asks.

“You’ve been in and out for about twenty-four hours.”

“Then that’s enough time to come to terms with shit,” he argues. “Go see her. Go fight for her.”

With another sigh, I rub my face. Again. “I can’t leave you––”

“He won’t be alone, Gibson,” my dad interjects. “I’m not going anywhere.”

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