Page 23 of Don't Think

He wouldn’t have given a rat’s ass about the reason. He would just go straight to the label and report everything, and then it’d be buh-bye record deal.

There wasn’t anything I could do at that particular moment, but maybe there’s something I can donow. Even if it’s just to clear my own selfish conscience. But not knowing if she’s okay or sitting in a hospital somewhere while I sit here scrolling through social media is eating me alive.

I quickly pull open the search bar and type in “Allie,” then scroll through every profile. I squint through each one, combing through bios and photos, hoping something stands out. But none of them are her.

“You can’t just search a first name like that and expect to find her,” Gareth says, voice low and closer than I expected.

I snap my head toward him. “What are you talking about?” I ask, forcing a chuckle while I turn the screen away like it’ll somehow help. Even though he’s clearly already seen it.

He points lazily toward my laptop. “If you don’t know her last name, just change the filter to Boston,” he mumbles with a shrug, then leans his head back and closes his eyes.

My brows pull together. “Why aren’t you teasing me like normal? Are you okay?”

He cracks one eye open, gives me a tired glare, then closes it again. “Too tired. Maybe tomorrow.”

I shake my head and turn back to the screen, irritation creeping in. I shouldn’t have to search without a last name. I know it’s right there on the tip of my tongue, but every time I think I’ve got it, it vanishes like smoke.

I try everything I can think of.

Allie Winslow? Nothing.

Allie Winter? Nope.

Winston? No.

Every time I hit search, I get the same result—none of them areher.

I’m just about ready to slam the laptop shut when the tiniest flicker sparks in the back of my brain.

Windsor.

It was freakin’Windsor.

I quickly type “Allie Windsor” and hit search—

Nope.

Fuck.

Maybe she’s not on social media. I mean, I sure as hell wouldn’t be if it weren’t for James practicallyforcingme to have one.

Or... maybe I’m just not meant to find her. That’s also very likely.

I remove the Boston filter, type in her name one more time, and hit search for the last time.

A few new profiles pop up. Apparently there aren’t a lot of Allie Windsors in the world, whichshouldmake this easier—but it doesn’t. Not after two hours of scrolling through strangers to come up empty every single time.

I skim through them quickly and find a brunette kissing a dog, a rainbow-colored profile picture thatcouldhave been her, a blonde in a canoe—

And then my pulse stutters when I come across the last profile.

A profile picture of her with two little girls who look practically identical to her finally pops up at the bottom of the list. The same auburn hair framing each of their faces, just like Allie’s did when I met her.

God, she’s fucking gorgeous when she smiles.

But then the realization hits me.

If those girls are hers, and I’d bet anything that they are, there’s probably someone else in the picture too. Someone I shouldn’t be crossing boundaries with.