Page 77 of Anything But Lonely

“Last question,” Anderson says, smiling as he points toward the crowd once more. “Once we make it outside safely, what do we never, ever do?”

“Go back inside!” the kids shout enthusiastically.

“That's right! No toys, no stuffed animals, no favorite blankies—not even if Mom says she forgot her coffee maker.” And it makes the adults laugh.

“Because firefighters are the only ones who go back inside. That's our job. Your job is to make it outside safely and meet your family at your special meeting spot.”

He gestures toward the doors leading farther into the station. “Now, honorary firefighters,” he says, his voice going low to draw all the kids’ attention, “are you all ready to practice being fire safety experts inside the Survive Alive House?”

The space erupts into excited chatter as Crew twists in Emerson’s arms to look at me. “Daddy?” he whispers excitedly. “Can I really be an honorary firefighter?”

“For today, buddy, I think you’ve already got the job.”

He nods, satisfied. “You can be one too.”

“Oh yeah?”

Emerson sets him down, her eyes on him as he says, “Yeah. You can be the singing firefighter.”

I laugh. “The singing firefighter?”

“Uh-huh. You sing and save people.”

“I don’t know about that, buddy,” I say, holding my hand out for him to grab as the crowd disperses, following Jack and Anderson to the Survive Alive House set up behind the station.

Crew grabs my hand just before grabbing Emerson’s with his other as we walk, and I wish it didn’t have the effect on me that it does. The three of us walking together.

“Ems says your music saves people.” Crew looks up at Emerson. “Right, Ems?”

I look at my son’s nanny, her expression frozen as she looks down at Crew, like she was just outed in a way she was avoiding. But then she quickly schools her features. She nods her head. “I did say that.”

“You did?” I prompt, my lips curving as she looks at me like she wants to kill me.

Crew’s smile is wide. “She said your music saves her when she misses her mom.”

CHAPTER 28

EMERSON

Leave it to a four-year-old to completely blow my cover.

“Did she?” Mateo asks Crew, but he’s looking at me, one eyebrow raised and a stupid, far-too-amused smirk tugging at his mouth.

Crew nods eagerly, completely unaware that he’s just thrown me directly under the bus. “She told me she listens to your songs every night!”

My eyes widen.

“Crew,” I whisper, squeezing his little hand in mine as we walk.

“What?” he asks, looking between us with genuine confusion.

Mateo’s grin only grows as he looks back at me. “Every night?”

I feel my face start to heat, and then I get even more embarrassed about being embarrassed, and my cheeks flush. “That is not what I said.”

“It’s not?”

“No.”