Page 11 of Don't Think

My arms are glued to my sides thanks to the heat, and my ankles are already throbbing after standing in the same spot for over two hours. I shift from foot to foot, trying to ignore the slow burn crawling up my calves.

This must be what Black Friday feels like. Except, of course, instead of flat-screen TVs, we’re getting whiplash and concussions.

And the crowd?Waybigger than I expected. When I first became a fan, their following was small, with maybe a few hundred at most. Now? It’s like the world decided to show up the second they signed a deal.

And I think that’s beautiful.

My phone buzzes deep in my purse, the vibration ten times louder than necessary since it’s wedged between a mountain of loose change and a keychain with one too many keys on it. I dig it out, flip it around—and my heart nearly leaps out of my chest.

A picture of Charlotte hugging Lydia in front of a lake fills my screen. Their wet, auburn hair clings to their shoulders while they smile widely for the camera, and my heart squeezes tight as if someone’s using it as a stress ball.

God, I miss them.

I’d give anything to hear their laughter right now. That sure would beat listening to the girl next to me go on about how she’dgladlylet Jax spit in her mouth.

Classy.

Then a message pops up beneath the photo:

Trevor

Spent the day at the lake. We miss you!

I frown, rereading the message… then read it five more times just to make sure I’m not seeing things.

What does he mean by “we”?

“Hey,” Ana says, nudging my elbow. “You okay?”

I glance up, struggling to find the words.

“Yeah, I’m… fine?” It comes out more like a question, but honestly, am I?

Ana and Nora are both watching me now, their brows drawn tight with silent questions. I shift my weight, phone still clutched in my hand, before finally handing it over to Ana.

I point to the screen. “Does that say—”

“What the hell does he mean by ‘we’?” Ana shrieks, cutting me off while squinting at the screen.

I slap my arms against my sides. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to figure out!”

Iwantto believe he’s talking about the girls, thattheymiss me. But he has to know how it sounds, right? Because to me it sounds like he’s trying to worm his way back in—again.

But it’s too late for that.

I used to dream about our life together. The white picket fence. The girls running through sprinklers in the yard while we watched from the porch. Kitchen dances while we waited for the timer.

But that wasmydream. Never his.

Alright, that’s enough. I toss that thought straight into the mental recycle bin.

He’s just trying to play mind games, making me wonder if maybe he’s really changed this time. But I’ve been down that road, and it nearly wrecked me every single time.

You can’t force someone to change when they don’t believe they’ve done anything wrong. All you can do is draw your line in the sand and protect your peace. And that’s what I deserve. To feel loved and not like I’m constantly chasing someone’s empty promises of change.

I slide the phone back into my purse and zip it shut.

“Yeah,” I say, crossing my arms firmly over my chest. “I’m not getting into that right now.”