Page 19 of Forbidden Lyrics

“Milo and me,” he clarifies.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Sure, both the guy at the bar and Reese mentioned it, but hearing about Gibson’s voracious sexual appetite firsthand is an entirely different experience. I’ll never be enough for a guy like Gibbs. Not when I’m me. The girl who’s never even been with one guy, let alone two. Not that I’d want to. It sounds like a lot of work, but what do I know?

The thought is sobering, and like a little pinprick, it pops the fantasy that had begun to take root no matter how hard I tried to curb it. Me and him? The innocent virgin who looks at sex like it’s an emotional and loving interaction next to the guy who obviously does it with multiple people simply to get off?

It would never work.

“We used to share,” Gibson admits. “Until things got messy with Em.”

“What kind of messy?” I ask, fisting the sleeves of my black long-sleeve shirt as if it’s a lifeline. My stupid curiosity and completely irrational jealousy are wreaking havoc on my emotions. But I can’t help it. I want to know what happened to her.

No, I need to know.

Especially when he’s so freaking angry and my sister’s acting like a crazy person at the mere mention of him. It doesn’t make sense.

Scratching the scruff along his jaw, he rasps, “I thought it was only sex. But it was more than that for Milo. He got jealous and lost his shit on Em. So she left.” He slips on his aviators, pulling away from the curb. “Or at least, I thought she did.”

“Maddie said Em left, too,” I return, trying to put him at ease. “But they must’ve been close for her to be so protective of me.”

His face is pinched with frustration as he demands, “What do you mean?”

“Maddie told me to stay away from you.”

He scoffs. “Of course, she did. Tell me something, Dove. How far along is your sister?”

Whiplashed, I stutter, “W-what?”

“Your sister. How far along is she?”

“Oh. Um. She just hit twenty weeks.”

He stays silent, but I can almost see the wheels turning in his head. “And the father? You said he knows?”

“I think so. We don’t really talk about him. I’d be surprised if he didn’t, though.”

“Why’s that?” he growls.

“Because she came back to my parents and asked for their help when she found out she was pregnant. They weren’t exactly on good terms, and the fact that she asked for their help means that she tried every other avenue before knocking on their door.”

Like a lie detector, his stare is laser-focused as he looks over at me while the buildings continue to blur past us. “You sure?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

Grip tight on the steering wheel, he turns his attention back to the road. “Just curious. What happened when she came to your parents?”

“They lost their minds.” I laugh, though there isn’t any humor in it. “We grew up in a very religious home. There’s no alcohol. No drugs. No sex before marriage. Nothing. So when she showed up pregnant after over a year of no communication, asking for their help and support? Well, I’m sure you can imagine how that went down.”

“And where were you in all of this?” he prods.

“With my parents. Madelyn was always the troublemaker. The rule breaker. The black sheep, if you will. And I fell into the role of being the perfect little daughter. When you’re young, it’s hard to see that your parents could do anything wrong, ya know? So, in my mind, Madelyn deserved to be grounded and to have ridiculous repercussions for pretty minor offenses in the big scheme of things. But it pushed her away. And because I could see what not to do, I did the opposite. I stuck around. I got perfect grades. I never touched alcohol, or smoked weed, or even kissed a guy.”

“And did it help your relationship with your parents?”

“Nope. My relationship with them was as rocky as Madelyn’s but in a different way.”

“So, if you were the perfect child, how’d you end up with”––he swallows thickly, his expression souring––“Madelyn?”

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