Page 31 of Anything But Lonely

I clear my throat. “I like pink,” I tell him as I place the block on the growing tower between us.

“Why?” Crew asks, and I should’ve known it was coming.

I exhale, slowly letting the air fall from my lips, trying to get a hold of myself. “Because my mom liked it.” I’m not sure why I say it, not sure why the admission comes out so easily. I haven’t been able to talk about my mom in days—could barely talk about her in the last few weeks she was alive.

Crew opens his mouth, no doubt to ask “why”, but I don’t know if I can answer that question, even as simple as it is. I’m already trying to recover from thinking about her—let alone talking about her. Even if it is just with a four-year-old.

I reach for another block on the blanket and purposely bump the tower, causing it to fall. Crew lets out a little scream that quickly transforms into a fit of giggles as the silicone blocks fall into his lap, his mind quickly changing course.

With it now being his turn, his attention is fully on his tower, insisting again that we can get it to be as tall as his dad, and I sink into the act of handing him blocks and answering his questions that thankfully went in the direction of why the ocean is blue and why cows can’t breathe underwater like fish.

“Do humans have gilds?” he asks as he pushes up to his feet, needing to now stand to keep stacking his blocks.

“Gills,” I say clearly, wanting him to hear the word again without it feeling like I’m correcting him, “are not something humans have, but it would be pretty cool if we did, huh?”

Crew nods as he bends to pick up another block, concentrating so hard his brows furrow under the few loose hairs framing his forehead.

A few minutes later, we’re both standing as Crew hands me blocks to keep stacking, the tower now twice as tall as him.

He’s just about to hand me another when I hear my name echo across the grass, my attention going to where my friend, Liam, hops off stage and jogs over to us.

“There’s my girl,” Liam yells to me just before he wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a hug that lifts me from the ground.

“Liam,” I say with a smile, my arms looping around his shoulders, his familiar scent of coconut from his fancy shampoo he insists keeps his blonde hair “nice and golden.”

Liam sets me down, his megawatt smile on full display. “It’s so awesome that you’re here. I’m glad Mateo took you up on your offer.”

“Me too,” I reply. “It’s honestly exactly what I need.”

Liam reads between my words, a knowing look in his eyes at the words I don’t say.

He reaches out to squeeze my shoulder, always finding an excuse to touch me. Usually, it’s like breathing warm air into frozen hands, but today his touch feels cold.

“And I see you’ve met Crew,” Liam says, bringing his hand back to his side as he crouches to Crew’s height. He holds up his hand to give him a high-five as the sound of drumsticks click together three times.

“Yeah, I—” I’m about to tell him that I didn’t really give the rockstar a chance to say no when the feedback of a microphone screeches, the sound so loud I instantly press my palms against Crew’s ears, his hands coming over mine with wide eyes.

“What the fuck?” Liam shouts, his own hands over his ears.

We both look toward the stage.

Mateo winces as the feedback finally stops, one hand still on the microphone stand he'd apparently knocked into the monitor.

"Fuck," he snaps before he drops his gaze, adjusting the mic stand before barking out, “Again!”

The three other Cross My Heart guys look between each other, but we’re just far enough from the stage that I can’t make out their expressions. Then, the drummer shrugs his shoulders before clicking his drumsticks together three more times.

The guitarist starts the opening riff, but my eyes go to Mateo, landing on the lead singer just as he looks at me.

For the briefest second, he freezes. Like I caught him.

His features are hard as he holds my gaze, and it’s like I’m frozen, held hostage in his stare. But before I can really register what’s happening, he looks away, walking to center stage.

“Ems?” Crew shakes his hand, his head still between my hands.

“Oh, sorry.” I let him step out of my hold, his attention now on the stage where his dad places the mic stand down just before grabbing the microphone in both hands, the opening chords of the song finally settling over me, immediately familiar.

It’s one of my favorites.