Page 146 of Forbidden Lyrics

“It’s okay,” she laughs. “I didn’t ever love you, either. But you love Dove. Don’t you?”

His Adam’s apple bobs up and down before his attention zeroes in on me all over again. “More than anything.”

“I hope you stick around,” she announces. “Regardless of whether or not my little peanut belongs to you. You guys have my blessing. Not that it matters. You guys are welcome to do whatever you want. But I think you two are pretty perfect for each other. You’d both be fools to throw it away.”

“I’m not throwing anything away,” Gibson argues.

But I stay quiet.

How am I throwing him away if he was never mine in the first place?

“He doesn’t love me, Dove,” Maddie tells me, reading my mind while pretending Gibson isn’t sitting five feet away. “He never loved me. We were using each other for a good time. That’s it.”

With a shaky breath, I avoid everyone’s gazes, staring blankly at the worn, brown carpet beneath my bum as I voice my greatest fear. “I can’t compare myself to you anymore, Mads––”

“Then don’t,” she returns. “There’s no comparison, anyway. Not for Gibbs.”

I blink back tears and try not to lose my battle with my emotions in front of them, but it isn’t easy. I’m close to breaking. Hell, I’m already broken and am holding myself together by sheer will. But I can feel it––the seams threatening to unravel. I want to run away and hide. But there is no hiding from this. It’s too complicated. Too overwhelming. Too much in general.

“Look at it this way, Dove,” she continues, hunching slightly before leaning against the wall and pressing her hand against her stomach. “If he had a child with someone else, would it make you love him any less?”

The question hits like a ton of bricks, and my breathing turns ragged. Because I don’t think it would. I’d accept him and his past and his kids. I’d accept his flaws and his strengths without hesitation. They’re part of him. And without his past, we might not have ever met. And I wouldn’t be who I am today. I’d be just as lost, just as lonely as before.

The floors creak softly as Maddie waddles down the hall, closing her bedroom door behind her, blanketing us in privacy and a silence so loud that it makes my ears ring.

But I’m oh so aware of Gibson.

Even though my blurry gaze is focused on my hands in my lap, I can still see him moving toward me, making my skin prickle with awareness as he slides onto his butt. On the floor. Next to me.

With his back pressed to the second-hand entertainment center, he scoots closer, making my heart rate climb with every passing second.

“I love you, Dovey,” he murmurs, his deep voice breaking the silence.

The knife in my chest twists, but I stay quiet, ignoring the heat that emanates from his body beside me and how much I want to lean into it. I’m desperate for his warmth. His touch. His comfort. But I stay upright and stare blankly in front of me. If I give in––if I look at him––the final barrier around my heart will crack. And I’m not sure I’ll survive it.

“No matter what happens with everything, I’ll still love you, Dovey. I’ll still want you. I’ll still choose you. Only you. Always you.”

His words imprint themselves on my soul, but I keep my head down and avoid his gaze. Because love might not be enough. Not right now. Not under these circumstances.

“Gibbs.” I take a shaky breath. “My niece or nephew deserves a father––”

“And he or she will get one no matter what,” he promises. “Especially now that I know there wasn’t a third guy. But I need you to understand that becoming a father has nothing to do with my love for you. It might be hard, but I don’t want to have to choose. I want us. I want you. I need you. And I know that’s selfish,” he adds, his voice laced with self-deprecation. “To need you even when it hurts you. But I do. I need you right now, Dove. And I think you might need me too.”

“I can’t live in her shadow,” I choke out, my eyes glassy.

He shakes his head and grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You don’t get it, Dove. You’ve never lived in her shadow. She might be your sister, but you’ve always shined to me. So damn bright that it makes my eyes hurt sometimes,” he adds with a breath of laughter.

“Why is that so funny?” I question.

“Because you haven’t shined for me alone.”

My brows pinch. “What do you mean?”

“They want you. They want us,” he corrects.

“What do you mean?” I repeat, feeling whiplashed.

“Fender’s gonna be in rehab for the rest of the tour. They want us to finish it. You and me. Because you stole the show, Dovey. They saw what I see every time I look at you. And you’ve left them wanting more. You shined too damn bright.”

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