Page 81 of Forbidden Lyrics

I can’t do this right now. I want nothing more than to climb into bed and pretend this night never happened.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” I mumble under my breath, my gaze glued to the floor as I try to slip past her.

“Is this…?” She grabs my chin and forces me to tilt my head, giving her a better view of my throat. “Is this a hickey, Dove?”

I jerk away from her. “It’s nothing––”

“Where were you? And who the hell put that thing on your neck?”

The tang of blood explodes in my mouth from biting the inside of my cheek too hard. But I can’t hold it in any longer. Not when she’s giving me that look. The look that says she’s better than me. That she’s disappointed in me. That she deserves an answer for her ludicrous question, even though it’s none of her business.

“I’m sorry. Since when are you my mother?” I snap, but she doesn’t miss a beat.

“Since the moment you stopped caring about telling me where you’re going or who you’re going with. If you’re going to live under my––”

“So help me, Maddie, if you finish that sentence with roof, I’m going to lose it.”

Her mouth snaps shut, but her glare is still firmly in place.

“Can we please do this later?” I beg.

“Who gave you the hickey?” she demands––again––her tone lacking any patience or understanding. The irony isn’t lost on me.

“No offense, Maddie, but I’m not sure you really have a leg to stand on when it comes to hickeys or staying out late or giving an explanation on anything at all, for that matter.”

Her nostrils flare as a flash of hurt sparks across her features before she covers it with determination. “We’re sisters––”

“Then why do you treat me like crap?” I spit. “Why do you keep me in the dark? Why do you only talk to me when you have a bone to pick? That’s bull crap, and you know it. I moved here to be close to you. I moved here to help take care of you. I moved here––”

“I never asked you to move here!” she yells, finally boiling over. “You’re ruining everything!”

As if I’ve been slapped, I freeze and swallow back the lump in my throat, convinced I heard her wrong yet positive I didn’t.

Is that what she really thinks? How could I be so blind?

With my arms folded across my chest, I dig my nails into my forearms, praying the bite of pain will be enough to keep my tears at bay. As soon as I get to my room, I can let go, but not yet.

Not yet.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m moving out, huh?” I confess, holding her heated stare with my own.

A flash of fear greets me before being replaced with indifference. That same stupid indifference that’s been her constant companion ever since I moved in with her.

She folds her arms, her round belly acting like a shelf. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve been asked to tour the East Coast with a band.”

“What band?”

“Does it matter?” I counter.

“Yes.”

Of course, it does.

I roll my eyes. “Fine. Broken Vows.”

“No.”

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