Don’t Think (Lyrics from the Heart Trilogy #1)

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Allie

I’ll never understand why anyone chooses to live in the city.

The streets are a mess with cars everywhere, and for some reason, people still weave between them like that’s even remotely a good idea.

You’re practically guaranteed to be late for work because finding a parking spot?

Yeah, that’s laughable. And don’t even get me started on picking a place to eat.

There are so many options that choosing between Chinese and pizza would feel like a life-or-death decision to someone like me.

Okay, fine. That last one doesn’t sound that bad.

Growing up in northern New Hampshire, we have a population of maybe ten thousand people.

So yeah, I’m probably a little biased when I say there’s nothing better than small-town life.

I mean, how could you not love a place where everyone knows your business as if they lived it themselves?

And let’s not forget those special moments when you’re out of milk, and somehow your ex just happens to be at the same store every single time.

On second thought… maybe city living isn’t so bad.

But being a single mom with two small children, I can’t just pack up and move hours away. So, for now, I’ll take what I can get. Like a kid-free month with my two best friends and the chance to pretend I’m a city girl for once.

Even if that also means pretending my anxiety isn’t tearing me apart from the inside, actively trying to claw its way up my esophagus while we sit in Boston traffic.

It’s only thirty more minutes. Then we’ll be relaxing in the quiet neighborhood my Aunt Louise promised when she offered to let us rent her vacation home. I can do this.

“Is it too late to turn around?” I half joke, gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turn white.

A car zips past my window with a loud whoosh, and my heart slams against my ribs like it’s trying to escape.

Ana’s head snaps toward me so fast I swear she’s going to give herself whiplash. She lowers her sunglasses down her nose, her big, brown eyes narrowing like laser beams aimed straight at my skull.

“Don’t even joke like that,” she says, clutching her chest.

From the back seat, Nora leans forward, elbows resting on the center console while she reads the GPS.

“We’re only fifteen minutes away,” Nora says. “So yeah, it’s officially too late to turn around.” She grins and flops back dramatically.

I shoot her my signature mom look in the rearview mirror—both eyebrows raised, head tilted. It doesn’t do anything, though, since she just sticks her tongue out in response before tossing her short, straight, brown hair into a claw clip.

Brat.

“Oh! Turn this up!” she yells suddenly, loud enough to make me jump.

Before I can object, Ana’s already on it, cranking the volume way higher than I’d normally allow. But since it’s Bottom Line—arguably the best band to ever bless our ears—I let it slide.

The opening chords of their song “Hit Me” fill the car, and just like that, my nerves start to melt away.

For the first time since pulling out of my driveway four hours ago, I can finally breathe.

My grip on the wheel loosens, and the color slowly returns to my hands from the death grip I’ve somehow been maintaining the entire drive.

“Are you excited to see them live?” Ana asks just as I turn onto the street that leads to our home away from home.

Before I can answer, Nora launches forward again, her head jutting between our seats. “And meet them! Don’t forget the best part,” she adds, slowly turning to look at me with a grin.

She props her chin in her hands, eyes locked on me like she’s waiting for my face to change color. “Allie, you’re gonna see those biceps. In person ,” she teases, nudging my arm a few times.

And then it does. My face changes multiple shades of red at the reminder that tomorrow, I’ll be within arm’s reach of Jaxon freaking Owens. Just a few feet away from those ocean-blue eyes, sharp jawline, and, as Nora said, tattooed biceps that could crush me in an instant.

Yes. Please.

Their band might not be super popular, but I’ve been hooked since the first time I heard their song on a social media page three years ago.

One song. That’s all it took.

Well, one song and the fact that they’re from Wales, which automatically gives them a dangerously sexy accent.

Instead of egging Nora on, I focus on the mailboxes along the sidewalk, watching the numbers climb until 1142 finally comes into view.

“Oh, look! We’re here,” I announce, grateful for the perfect excuse to change the subject.

Nora chuckles under her breath. “Saved by the bell.”

We pull into the driveway, gravel crunching under the tires, and all three of us just sit there, staring.

I knew the place would be beautiful from the pictures my aunt sent me, but seeing it in person? It’s a whole different story.

The white, two-story farmhouse sits perfectly behind a freshly mowed lawn, and rows of vibrant flowerbeds run along the length of the house. But what truly steals my heart is the wraparound porch with two rocking chairs facing the road.

I can already picture myself sitting there for hours, getting lost in the novel I’ve tried reading countless times, only to get distracted after three pages.

“Is that a porch swing ?” Ana gasps. Her hand flies to the door, and she’s out before I can even turn off the engine. “That’s it. We’re never leaving.”

Nora laughs. “You think she’s excited?” she says, sliding out after her.

When her door thuds shut, I take a long, much-needed breath, trying to settle my nerves as best I can. I know I’m supposed to be excited, but I can’t shake the nagging feeling of guilt still sitting in the pit of my stomach.

This is the first time in five years that my girls aren’t literally glued to my hip.

The first time that I’m not responsible for anyone but myself.

I could even make a couple of mistakes and not have it instantly reflect on my parenting.

And honestly? I’d be lying if I said that feeling alone didn’t excite me and also scare the living shit out of me at the same time.

A soft tap on the window pulls me out of my thoughts, and when I look over, Ana is standing there with a wide grin, bouncing in place.

“Come on, Allie!” she calls through the glass, shading her eyes from the sun. She opens the door and leans in, her smile fading just enough for her concern to peek through. “Are you gonna be alright?”

Well, that’s a pretty loaded question.

Am I going to be alright on vacation? Absolutely.

Am I alright with the fact that I basically had no say in Trevor getting both girls for the entire summer? Eh, not so much.

But since I have them the rest of the year, and neither of us wants to deal with court, it was the only option we could come up with that sounded… what was the word he used? Oh. Right. Fair .

I force a smile. “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I lie, but no one needs to know that. Not right now anyway.

She raises an eyebrow, giving me that look I know all too well. The one that screams, Don’t lie to me.

I raise my hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. I will be. Maybe not right this second, but... I’ll get there. Promise.”

“You seem to forget we live together, Allie,” Ana says, grabbing hold of my hand from my lap and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“We basically share the same brain, so I know what you’re thinking.

You do deserve this. Let Trevor handle the girls for once.

” She chuckles, dropping my hand and spinning toward the house. “Now come on. No more moping.”

It still takes me a few seconds to push the guilt down, but I do it. Or at least I try.

I know I deserve this but convincing myself of that is a whole different story. Especially with the memory of Charlotte crying for me still playing on a loop in my head—her little arms reaching out, and me forcing myself to walk away.

By the time I make it up the steps, Nora’s standing at the front door with the key in her hand, staring at it like it might jump out and bite her.

“You haven’t unlocked the door yet? I figured you guys would have run right in,” I say with a chuckle.

“Yeah, but… what if we open it and the alarms go off? Are we absolutely sure this is the place?” Nora asks, her eyes wide like we’re about to get arrested.

I rest my hand on her shoulder. “Yes, I triple-checked. 1142 Meadow Lane. Big white farmhouse, just like my aunt said,” I reassure her with a smile.

“Yeah, plus the key being in the mailbox is a pretty big giveaway,” Ana adds with a grin.

Nora exhales slowly, then finally inserts the key, twists the knob, and pushes the door open.

Ana doesn’t wait a second. She bolts inside.

She doesn’t get far before we hear her gasp—loud enough to jolt me forward. I rush in behind her, heart suddenly racing like we’re about to walk into a crime scene.

When I finally reach her, I immediately understand why her gasp was so loud.

It has the charming farmhouse vibe we expected from the outside, but inside? It looks like it’s been completely remodeled.

The light-stained hardwood floors practically sparkle, giving the room a much warmer glow from the sunlight spilling through a wide bay window.

A navy-blue couch, the exact shade as mine back home, sits in the center of the room, facing a massive flat-screen TV.

Below it, a low wooden shelf holds a collection of vinyl records, each one perfectly lined up, not a speck of dust in sight.

“Wow,” she breathes out. “This place is ours for a whole month?” Her eyes are wide as she slowly spins, taking it all in.