Page 105 of Anything But Lonely

“It’s hard to believe how far we’ve come,” Theo adds, doing the same with his wife and two sons.

Backstage feels like it’s missing something with Emerson and Crew out in the crowd, but it’s fitting for this last show to just be me and the guys. Saying goodbye to what we spent so many years working towards, and what we’ve accomplished together, felt like a day that would never come, yet here we are.

“Remember when we thought we made it when Emmett let us perform at Lenny’s every week?” Silas laughs, and the floodgate of memories from our early days opens wide. Nights playing in the corner of the dive bar because the owner was a friend of mine and Eddie’s, and his wife convinced him to build a makeshift stage in the back corner.

“It’s almost like we should be performing there instead of at this place.” Theo looks up, and the rest of us follow suit. The high ceilings of the venue, the huge stage lights, the entire place feeling too big to even take it all in. “It’s our last show, and it still doesn’t feel real that we can fill a space this massive.”

We all nod in agreement, silence falling over us.

“Five minutes, fellas,” our stage manager says, a sad smile on her face as she adjusts her headset before moving on to finish making sure everything is all set to go.

There’s a different kind of buzz in the atmosphere for this show—there’s the usual anticipation and excitement among the bands and the crew, but there’s also a quiet recognition that this journey is winding down, a sense of finality in the air.

“Can’t wait to watch you guys kick ass out there for one last time.” Liam’s voice chimes in, followed by similar sentiments from the other Sugarcoated Lies band members.

Silas claps Liam on the shoulder. “We’re really proud of you guys.”

Theo, Eddie, and I nod in agreement.

“We can’t thank you all enough for giving us this chance,” Liam says.

Sugarcoated Lies worked like hell this entire tour, jumping at the opportunity that ended up being exactly what they needed. They officially signed with a record company back in the spring, and it sounds like they’ll be headlining their own tour in the near future.

And selfishly, it’s kept Liam busy enough to not come looking for Emerson.

“Thank this guy.” Eddie points to me. “He saw something in you guys and really vouched for you. He’s always had an eye for the bands that have what it takes.”

Liam reaches out his hand, and I take it in mine. “Thank you, Mateo. You changed our lives.” The other Sugarcoated Lies guys add similar sentiments, each shaking my hand as they do.

Pride blooms in my chest, the same way it does when I’m on stage watching the people in the crowd take what they need from our songs for themselves when we perform. Bands like Liam’s understand the power their songs have, and I’m just happy our fans will still have that to turn to even though Cross My Heart isn’t touring anymore.

“I know you’re going to be busy saving people from burning buildings and shit,” Silas says once Sugarcoated Lies heads back to their greenroom, leaving the four of us with a few minutes before our cue. My volunteer firefighter training starts when we get back home, and, ever since I told the guys, Silas loves to bring it up whenever he can—he might think he’s teasing me, but he just sounds jealous. “But Eddie’s right.”

“Right about what?” I ask.

“You know what to look for in bands trying to find their big break,” Silas clarifies.

I shrug my shoulders. “Someone gave us our shot. Might as well help another band get theirs.”

“You don’t have to stop with Liam’s band,” Theo adds. “We know you’re set on training to volunteer at the fire station now that we’re back home, but it would be a shame if you left music for good.”

I shake my head, my palm going to the back of my neck, rubbing the skin as if it will make the heat building there go away. “All I’ve ever done is sing the songs Eddie writes and that you guys play.”

“Is that what you think?” Eddie asks, and my gaze shoots to him. “You are these songs, Mateo. Sure, I write the lyrics, but you’re the one who makes the words mean something. You see the lyrics not for what they are but for what they can be. It’s what you did for Cross My Heart.”

“And what you did for Sugarcoated Lies,” Theo agrees, nodding his head. “Without you, we wouldn’t be what we are.”

“Guys—” my voice cracks, emotion clogging my throat.

“Just think about it,” Silas says, allowing me a moment to gather myself. “Maybe you can just keep an eye on the Milwaukee local band scene. I’m sure there are four idiots trying to make it big.”

I huff out a laugh, opening my arms to the three idiots I got to share this dream come true with. We wrap each other in a group hug, just as the stage manager says it’s time.

And it is.

For the very last time.

CHAPTER 36