Page 74 of Anything But Lonely

The three of us laugh at the thought of my brother pretending he couldn't care less when I mentioned wanting to show Crew the station, all while knowing today would be the perfect day to bring him.

“Well, you better get going,” Ava says, standing up from her chair, grabbing our three empty cups before grabbing a rag to wipe down the counter.

“Kicking us out already?” I tease, making sure I push in my chair just the right amount that Ava prefers.

“The quicker you head over there, the quicker she can get updates from Anderson about you and Mateo,” Rumi laughs, doing the same with her chair.

“Don’t act like you won’t be doing the same thing with Jack,” Ava says, throwing the rag in her hand at Rumi.

“There is nothing to tell,” I tell them both, but I don’t even bother trying to hide the smile on my face.

“Right,” Ava says, rolling her eyes, “and ducks don’t quack.”

“Oh, wow. So funny, I forgot to laugh,” I deadpan, all while Rumi laughs at the exchange.

“Funny and gorgeous. That’s what they call me.” She flips her auburn hair over her shoulder dramatically.

It really is crazy how quickly things can change—how fast a moment can go from good to bad and back again. How easily my mind can drift from missing my mom to reminding myself to stay right here, in this moment. How something as simple as an hour with my best friends can help me remember there's still joy left for me.

I don't let myself think about how inevitably fleeting it all is—that the happiness will fade and the grief will find me again.

Instead, just like last night and this morning after therapy, I let myself be okay.

Even if it’s just for right now.

CHAPTER 27

MATEO

The moment I pull into the parking lot, I know this isn't what I was expecting.

There are cars parked up and down the street and families bundled in winter coats making their way toward the station. Kids run through the snow in plastic firefighter hats that are much too big for their heads, their laughter carrying through the cold air as they point excitedly at the fire trucks parked outside.

Crew lets out an excited gasp from the backseat before I've even shifted the car into park. His nose is pressed to the window, his little hands against the glass as if he’s trying to somehow fit through it. "Daddy! Fire trucks!"

I laugh as I glance at him in the rearview mirror. "I see 'em, buddy."

I was under the impression we were coming here to see Emerson for a little while—not walking into what looks like every kid's dream Saturday afternoon.

Firefighters stand outside the station talking with families while others wave from the open bay doors. Somewhere nearby, a siren briefly sounds before it's followed by a chorus of excited squeals and parents laughing as their children cover their ears.

I look back at the station, thinking about Emerson’s offer for Crew to come see the station around while we were all in town, and I’m surprised she didn’t mention such a big event going on.

Crew slips his mittened hand into mine and practically bounces on the balls of his feet as he stares at the trucks in front of him.

Whatever this is, I have a feeling we're going to be here a while.

As we walk towards the station, a crowd of people begins to form around four of the firefighters standing just in front of the big open garage doors. Two are in their gear while the other two are in Northshore Fire Department pullovers and black beanies.

“Welcome, everyone,” one of the firefighters says, eliciting squeals of greetings from the different ages of kids gathered around him.

Crew pulls on my hand as hard as he can before letting go and throwing his arms up for me to pick him up.

I can almost feel his excitement as I hold him against my side while the firefighter, who introduces himself as Anderson, explains what today is all about.

“Today is one of our favorite days of the year because we get to teach all of you how to become honorary firefighters.” It earns him a chorus of excited cheers from the kids. “Well, honorary firefighters for the day. Sorry, parents and guardians—you still have a few years before we can put 'em to work.”

I look over to see another firefighter standing beside Anderson, arms crossed over his chest, his expression far more serious.