Page 122 of Don't Think

I drop my eyes to the floor, pretending I didn’t see him in hopes he’ll just keep walking.

No such luck.

He slows to a stop right in front of me, then nods toward the empty seat next to mine.

“Mind if I sit?”

His tone’s hard to read—calm, but there’s definitely something simmering underneath. If I had to guess, based on the three whole minutes we’ve spent in the same room, I’d say he’s pissed. Which, I guess is fair.

It must be royally disappointing to find the woman you once cared for being loved by someone who will actually show her what she deserves.

Not.

I shrug. “No worries.”

He sinks into the chair with a long exhale, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“Look, it’s nothing personal,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “I just didn’t know Allie was seeing someone. It caught me off guard.”

“Yeah, I get that,” I reply, not sure what else there is to say.

I’ve never really done the whole awkward-run-into-the-ex thing. Emelia was my first girlfriend, and I was hers. So, yeah, this is all uncharted territory for me.

Trevor shifts in his seat and glances over at me, one brow raised. “How is this all supposed to work with you being… well, you?”

I let out a short laugh. “We haven’t really figured that part out yet,” I admit. “But if you’re worried about the partying thing, it’s honestly not as wild as people make it out to be.”

He doesn’t say anything, just keeps watching me like he’s waiting for me to slip up.

“I mean, yeah, we tour and play shows and all that, but it’s not all parties and everything. Most nights it’s just rehearse, play, crash. Rinse and repeat. There’s not a lot of energy left for partying these days, at least not for me.”

“You don’t get tempted?” he asks, like he’s digging for something.

I shake my head. “Not really, man. That’s not what I’m about. I just want to make music that means something. Stuff people actually feel, you know?”

He’s quiet after that, just kind of staring ahead like he’s trying to figure out if he believes me, but I’m not lying. I’ve never cared about being the stereotypical frontman. I just want to create music that hits people the way it hit me when I needed it most.

Eventually, he turns to face me again. “Okay. So let’s say you and Allie get serious. What happens when you’re on tour? What’s the plan then?”

The way he saysifmakes my jaw clench. Like he’s already written us off. I shift in my seat, suddenly hyper-aware of how uncomfortable these plastic chairs are.

“We don’t know yet,” I say with a shrug. “We’d definitely have space on the bus if she ever wanted to come. But yeah, that’s a ‘figure it out when we get there’ kind of thing.”

Trevor lets out a short huff, and something in his face shifts. He’s still looking at me, like he wants to say something but isn’t sure how. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to. I don’t know if I said the wrong thing or if this is just classic Trevor. Although, my money’s on the second one.

“Alright,” he says finally, nodding toward someone behind him. A woman—his girlfriend, I’m guessing—starts walking over. Then he turns back to me. “I told Allie that since the girls have already met Marissa, it’s only fair you get a chance too. If you wanna go in, I’m okay with it.”

I nod once. “Thanks,” I say, standing up and giving him the most neutral smile I can muster.

The whole walk to Allie’s room feels oddly long, probably because my head’s still spinning from his little interrogation. And now I’ve gotta pull it together, because I’m about to meet her daughters.

No pressure or anything.

I take a deep breath at the door, then give it a light knock before slowly pushing it open.

The first thing I see is Allie, resting her chin gently on her youngest daughter’s head with her oldest coloring beside her. They all have the same shade of auburn hair, like someone hit copy and paste three times. It makes my heart squeeze.

Allie lifts her head when she sees me. Our eyes meet, and she gives me a soft, welcoming smile, but she doesn’t move. Just stays there, holding Lydia close.