Page 88 of Forbidden Lyrics

“It’s complicated,” he mutters after a few seconds. “I know that’s a bullshit excuse, but I promise that Em and I are more of a nuisance to each other than anything else right now.”

The knife lodged in my chest twists at his non-answer.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Gibbs.”

“I’m not lying. I promise.”

“Then who is she?”

His Adam’s apple bobs up and down in his throat. “She’s no one, Dove.”

“Don’t lie,” I beg.

“Do you know what I’d give to leave Em in the past? So I could focus on…” His voice trails off as his face contorts in pain.

“Focus on what, Gibbs?” I urge, my pulse racing.

“I shouldn’t have touched you the other night.”

My heart plummets to the pit of my stomach, and I refrain from rubbing at the ache in my chest where it’s supposed to be. Why does it feel like we’re always taking one step forward and two steps back? Why does he have to make everything so damn hard?

“Oh,” I breathe out.

“I took advantage of you.”

“I told you to––”

“You didn’t know what you were getting yourself into.”

I roll my eyes as another heavy dose of self-deprecation settles into my bones. “I might be innocent, Gibbs, but I’m not stupid.”

“No. You’re smart. And beautiful. And for some reason, you decided to give me the time of day, and I took full advantage of it. Even though I knew you’d regret it the next day. I lied to myself that night. I thought I could keep this casual. Hell, I broke my only rule.”

“What rule?”

“No shitting where I eat, remember?” His breath of laughter fans across my cheeks. “But I did it anyway. Do you wanna know why, Dove?”

I sniff. “Because I begged you to.”

“No. It’s because I’ve been looking for an excuse to touch you since the moment we met, and when it fell in my lap, I couldn’t control myself. But I can’t promise you a relationship or a commitment.”

“I haven’t asked you for them––”

“Yeah, but they’re what you deserve. And the fact that I can’t give you what you deserve… It sucks, Dovey.”

“Why can’t you give me those things?” I whisper. He’s doing it again. Placing red tape and bold labels on our relationship, and I don’t know how to make him stop.

“My dad,” he reminds me, his tone laced with regret. “My dad was an ass who had a girl in every city. And each of them ate the shit up. They thought they were the only ones. That they’d managed to tie down the rockstar. But guess what? It was all a bunch of bullshit. I have two half-brothers, maybe more for all I know, and none of us knew about each other until I was in middle school.” He scrubs his hand over his face roughly as if lost in the memories. “Middle school, Dove. Do you know how much that’s messed with my head?”

I reach for his arm, desperate to soften the worry lines etched into his handsome features. Desperate to hold the little boy he once was and promise him that he’d get through the crappy hand he was dealt. Desperate to hold Gibson Hayes and convince him that he doesn’t have to live in his father’s shadow.

My voice is scratchy as I clear my throat, squeezing his bicep softly. To show that I’m here. That I’m not going anywhere. “You’re not like him––”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do-–”

“How? Even I don’t know that shit. And I refuse to let you be the guinea pig while I figure it out.”

---