Page 147 of Forbidden Lyrics

I squeeze my eyes shut as the memories––the feelings––of being on stage hit me from all sides. The rush. The lights. The absolute euphoria. It’s something you can’t find anywhere else. And I’ll miss it almost as much as I’ll miss Gibson if we don’t get this worked out.

“I can’t finish the tour,” I whisper.

“Why not?”

I shrug one shoulder but stay quiet. I don’t know what to say. It’s too complicated. Just like we are.

“If it’s because you don’t want to, then I fully support you. I’ll call Hawthorne right now, and I’ll tell him we’re out,” he declares, his thumb running along my jawline. “But if it’s because you’re scared, I’ll push you to do it. Not because I give a shit about Broken Vows, but because I give a shit about you. And you love being on stage, Dove. I can see it. They can see it. You were made to be up there. To sing. To steal the show. So why? Why can’t you finish?”

“My sister––”

“Will be fine. She’d tell you the same thing if she wasn’t in her room right now.”

“But you and I––”

“Will be fine too.”

I shake my head. “You sound so sure––”

“It’s because I am. Yeah, shit’s complicated. But life gets complicated. I want you. I need you. Regardless of whether or not I’m going to be a father. I love you, Dove Walker. And I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to fight for you.”

Crack.

The final barrier I’d kept in place to protect me finally crumbles, the sincerity in his gaze hitting me like a sledgehammer.

No one’s ever fought for me.

Until now.

As he rubs his thumb along my quivering bottom lip, a single tear drips down my cheek before I whisper, “I love you too, Gibson Hayes.”

He presses his lips to mine, dragging his tongue along the seam, and I open myself to him. My mouth. My heart. My soul. Until everything is laid bare in our kiss. Our regrets. Our hope. And most of all, our love.

With a simple kiss, a tiny seed of hope is planted. That everything is going to be okay. That we’ll be okay. That I might not be the fool after all. As long as we have each other.

A loud crash echoes from down the hall, making me jerk away from Gibson.

What was that?

“Mads?” I call out.

Silence.

“Mads? You okay?”

A low, muffled moan is all I hear in response.

Pushing to my feet, I rush down the hall, and Gibbs follows behind. Without bothering to knock, I shove the door open to find Maddie hunched over on her bed, broken glass scattered on the floor.

“Mads, what’s going on?” I demand.

“I’m fine,” she forces out between staggered breaths.

“Maddie––”

“It’s just Braxton Hicks. A rough one hit, and I knocked over my glass. I’m fine. Promise.”

I look at Gibson behind me, and he shakes his head warily. Like he doesn’t believe her, either.

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