Page 6 of Forbidden Lyrics

As I reach the top of the stairs, that same haunting melody rolls over me, and I pause to appreciate it. It almost sounds familiar. Yet…not.

Curious, I inch closer before stopping at a partially closed door on my left. The soft strum of a guitar is accompanied by a quiet, gritty voice that makes my knees weak. Resting my head against the wall, I let the slow cadence roll over me and squeeze my eyes shut.

It’s so beautiful.

“Dark skies and lonely nights.

The smell of your skin still clings to mine.

But you’re gone, babe.

Never comin’ back, babe.

‘Cause you were never mine.

You’re just a ghost from before

And we’ll never be more.

Never be more. Never be more.”

My heart breaks as the rhythm slows down to a haunting silence that makes me crave the next verse as much as the singer craves his mystery girl. But we’re both left wanting.

With a quiet breath, I shake the spell that’d been cast on me, pushing myself up and taking a step toward the bathroom. When the floor creaks beneath my feet, I freeze.

“Reese?” the singer calls.

Crap.

“Reese?”

Crap. Crap. Crap.

“Oh, um, Reese isn’t here right now,” I return awkwardly. Through the crack in the door, I see a guy sitting cross-legged on the floor with an acoustic guitar cradled in his lap, but he’s leaning against his bed, so his face isn’t in view.

Until he leans forward and sees me with a deer-in-the-headlights expression. My jaw drops.

“Gibbs?” I squeak.

Please don’t kill me.

“Dove?” His confusion turns into a glare. “What are you doing here?”

Ignoring his question, I return it with one of my own. “You’re a musician?”

“On occasion,” he grits out.

“On occasion?” A breath of laughter escapes me. If we were discussing any other topic, I’d already be gone. But music? It’s my passion. My weakness. It’s the one thing that got me through my childhood. The one thing I love. And the man in front of me plays like he owns it.

“What are you doing here?” he repeats, his voice nothing but a growl.

“Reese invited me. But what’s that supposed to mean? You’re only a musician on occasion?”

“It means that I play when I’m home.”

“When you’re home? That’s it?”

“Is that a problem?” he challenges.

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