Page 12 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

“Xander Harlow,” he says, stepping closer, grin already pulling at his mouth. “Thought that was you when you walked in.”

“Theo.”

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head, trying to place me back into a version of the town that still makes sense. “You don’t just walk back in here like it’s nothing, kid.”

“Not a kid anymore.”

“That’s what worries me.”

I almost smile.

Almost.

He claps a hand against my shoulder, solid, familiar in a way I don’t acknowledge out loud. “Heard rumors you were back. Didn’t believe it.”

“I’m here.”

“Yeah,” he says, eyes flicking over me, taking in the suit pants and starched shirt, the watch, the version of me that left and didn’t look back. “I can see that. You look…” He trails off, then picks up somewhere else. “Your brother in town, too?”

Everything in me stills.

My shoulders lock just enough. My jaw tightens a fraction before I smooth it out. The atmosphere shifts, becoming colder. Emotion just got dragged up from somewhere I keep it buried on purpose.

“No.”

Theo watches me a little more closely now. He always could read more than he let on.

“Haven’t seen him around,” he says, casual on the surface. “Figured if you were back⁠—”

“I said no.”

Silence stretches for half a second too long.

Theo exhales through his nose, nodding once, understanding more than I’m willing to say. “Yeah. Alright.” His gaze flicks past me, toward the counter. “Didn’t take you long to find Willow.”

“Yeah, this diner is… has always been special, and Willow seems pretty cool.”

Theo snorts. “That she is. And she’s already glaring at you like she’s deciding whether to throw you out or just make your life difficult.”

“Both, probably.”

“That sounds about right.”

Being around her is easy. Familiar in a way I don’t let myself sit in for long.

My eyes drift back to her.

She’s mid-conversation, pen moving across her pad, but I can see the awareness in the set of her shoulders. The way she knows exactly where I am without looking.

Good.

“You sticking around?” Theo asks. “You have some music project, right?”

He doesn’t say it. Doesn’t say “you were just on the verge of really hitting the big time before it all imploded,” but I’m sure he must be thinking it.

I’m sure they all must be. But how could the band carry on after what happened? How could I?

“Yeah, something like that.”