Page 74 of Forbidden Lyrics

Where the heck did he come from?

Hands raised in surrender, the stranger defends, “Whoa, man. Calm down. We were just chatting.”

“That right?” Gibbs challenges, his frustration palpable.

“Yeah. Seems to me like you could use some shit to take the edge off.” He lowers his hands to his sides. “Speaking of, have you seen Fen lately?”

Gibson’s nostrils flare. “What did you give him?”

“I didn’t give him anything,” he returns, though his sinister smirk tells a different story and makes me dislike him even more.

“Fen said you wouldn’t be here,” Gibson growls.

“Fen was sorely mistaken. He’s one of my best customers and hadn’t contacted me in a while. It would’ve been rude of me not to check on him, don’t you think? I’m surprised you came, though.” He looks over at me and chuckles under his breath. “I thought I recognized you, Dove. Have you asked him about what happened to Em yet?”

“Dove,” Gibson barks, but he doesn’t look at me. He’s too busy glaring daggers at the guy in front of us.

“Yes?” I answer him, sounding like a squeaky little mouse.

“Go find Fen.”

“I wouldn’t suggest that,” the stranger interrupts. “He disappeared upstairs with a sexy little redhead a few minutes ago. Don’t worry, though. I caught him before he closed the door and gave him a little party favor, so I’m afraid he might be a while. However, if you’d like me to look after Dove until he’s finished, I’d be happy to help.”

My gaze darts from Gibson to the stranger and back again. But my feet stay firmly planted. There’s a power struggle here––a fight for dominance.

And I feel like I’m the bait.

“Stay away from her, Marty,” Gibson seethes. “And stay away from Fen.”

“You’re not the only protective older brother, Sonny. I’m allowed to have a relationship with my baby bro. Hell, Dad encourages it, remember?”

My breath hitches.

Older brother?

Dad?

There’s a third sibling?

I dig my trimmed fingernails into my palms and bite my tongue to keep from screaming at them for answers. But this isn’t the time. Not now. Not with how much fury is radiating from Gibson. No. Right now, we need to get out of here.

“As for her,” Gibson’s brother tilts his head toward me. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that she still wreaks of innocence even though she’s dating you. You’ve never exactly had the balls to do anything at all. Tell me… Does she even know what an orgasm is? I’d be happy to show her. You’re into sharing, right?”

Gibson’s fist rams into the side of his brother’s face, striking harder than a baseball bat. The sound embeds itself into my memory, along with the sight of Marty’s head flinging backward. I cover my mouth as tears well in my eyes, though I have no idea why they’re even there. I’m not the one who got hit in the face. I’m not the one who obviously has more family issues than I could’ve ever imagined. And I’m not the one who had it aired out in front of a coworker-slash-friend. My heart aches, and my hands itch to reach forward and pull Gibson into a hug, but I know he’d push me away. And that almost makes it hurt worse.

“Stay. The fuck. Away from her,” Gibson spits. “We clear?”

Marty smiles, his straight, white teeth stained with a bright red that makes him look like a deranged clown from a horror movie. “Of course, brother. Enjoy the party.”

He grabs a random cup from the counter and swishes its contents in his mouth before spitting the crimson-tinted liquid into the sink. My expression sours as I watch it swirl down the drain, leaving tiny red stains along the sides of the white porcelain. Not bothering to rinse it away, Marty leaves us alone in the kitchen and grabs a random girl from the dance floor before smashing his mouth to hers.

“Come on.” Gibson grabs my wrist. “Let’s go.”

“W-where are we going?” I ask, my eyes wide and my pulse pounding.

Without bothering to answer, he tugs me behind him, weaving between the crowd, his grip tight on my forearm until the night air hits my heated skin. I breathe it in, desperate for the fresh air to clear the haze from my head, but I still feel like I’m spinning. Like my knees might give out. Like the adrenaline pulsing through my veins is a limited resource, and I’ll come crashing down at any second.

Gibson has another brother. A brother who also enjoys dealing drugs to Fender and likes to get under Gibson’s skin, though I have no idea why.

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