Page 135 of Don't Think

We just sit there, holding each other, and I swear I could stay like this forever. But right now, forever is just impossible for us.

He has to go back.

Eventually we pull apart, making our way slowly to the front door. I open it and step out onto the porch, Jax following close behind.

He grabs my hand, pulling me in for one last hug, his fingers lightly digging into the back of my head. I breathe him in, trying to memorize this feeling, knowing I’ll need it every time I miss him.

“I’m definitely buying fifteen bottles of your cologne,” I laugh, looking up at him.

He chuckles, meeting my eyes. “It’s a good thing I left you one of my T-shirts in your bag,” he says, tipping my chin up to kiss me.

“I’ll see you soon,” he murmurs, lifting his pinky. “Pinky promise.”

We hook our pinkies together, sealing it with a kiss to the tips of our fingers.

I stand on the porch, watching Jax climb into his car, not moving until his taillights disappear down the street. My heart sinks a little more with every second he’s gone.

I finally step back inside, already missing him more than I want to admit.

Then it hits me. He mentioned ashirt. I practically sprint to my room, unzip my suitcase, and there it is: Jax’s old Metallica tee, folded neatly on top of my clothes. I bring it to my nose, close my eyes, and inhale deeply, savoring the smell of him.

I stand there for a while, just holding it to my face until a loud knock breaks the quiet of the house.

Smiling, I walk quickly to the front door, already guessing he forgot something, or maybe he came back because he missed me too.

I swing the door open. “What did you forg—”

I freeze, brows furrowing. “Can I help you?”

“Are you Allison Windsor?” the man asks, his voice steady and official. He’s dressed in khaki pants and a dark-green shirt with a New Hampshire State Police badge pinned to his pocket.

My stomach drops. Goose bumps rise on my arms. “Yeah, that’s me. Is… everything okay?” I ask, my voice trembling.

“Ma’am, I’m Sheriff Ecklie,” he says, stamping a paper clipped to a thin stack on a clipboard. “I’m here because we’ve got a court appearance notice for you. We stopped by yesterday, but no one was home.”

“What’s it for?” I ask, my heart rate picking up as he hands me the papers.

“Can’t say for sure, ma’am,” he replies. “Do you need me to go over it with you?”

“N-no, that’s okay,” I mumble, barely able to get the words out.

He tips his hat, mutters something under his breath, and heads back to his cruiser. The engine starts, the sound fading while he drives off. But all I can hear now is the pounding in my ears.

I look down at the papers, my heart slamming in my chest. They’re from the local court, so it’s not about the accident. I know that much. But that doesn’t make it any less terrifying.

My eyes skim over the words, slow at first. Each line hits harder than the last.

“He can’t take my babies,” I whisper, the words barely slipping out while tears start to fall.

Suddenly, Ana bursts through the front door, worry all over her face. “Hey, what’s going on?” she asks, glancing around. “Did I just see a cop car pulling out of the driveway?”

He can’t take my babies.

He can’t take my babies.

He can’t take my babies.

“Allie?” Ana’s voice cuts through the fog, her hand gently brushing my arm. “Hey, talk to me.”