Page 122 of Anything But Lonely

And I can’t believe how much I’m enjoying it.

Don’t get me wrong, between training and my days with Crew, I’m fucking exhausted. And I’m definitely feeling my age. But I know I made the right decision.

Plus, I’m never too exhausted for Emerson.

It’s been a month since I handed my heart to her on stage, and I don’t think I ever knew dating could be so fun.

Not because we’re doing anything extraordinary. Most of the time, it’s the opposite. Late-night grocery runs after my training sessions. Takeout on my couch while she steals fries off my plate or sips of my milkshake. Lunch dates that turn into two-hour conversations because neither of us wants to leave. Nights that end with her naked in my bed, screaming my name until we’re both spent.

Every day is something simple and ordinary, but it’s all so new to me. I let go of the idea that I would ever have someone else to live life with again. Until Emerson.

The early mornings. The sore muscles. The nights I drag myself home smelling like smoke and sweat. She never complains when I’m late. Never makes me feel guilty when training runs long. She just makes my house her home, hands me a plate, steals one of my hoodies, and acts like there’s nowhere else she’d rather be.

And I’m still learning that this isn’t some dream I’m about to wake up from—pinching myself every morning to make sure it’s real… That she’s real.

“Where did you hear about these guys?” Emilio, one of the other volunteer firefighters I’ve been training with, asks as he hands me a beer. We’re at Lenny’s with a couple of other people from the fire station to see a local band perform.

“I don’t know too much about them,” I answer, talking over all the conversations buzzing in the bar. “But my band used to play here, so I always like to come and support.”

“Nice,” Emilio offers. “And they have live music every Thursday?”

I take a sip of my beer, nodding. “It’s usually just Fridays, but they added a second night for the summer.”

Even though I closed the door on Cross My Heart and that part of my life, everything that Eddie, Silas, and Theo said to me before our last show has really stuck with me.

And that’s why I wanted to come tonight to see the band that was performing—just to keep an eye on the local band scene here in Milwaukee. There might be a band that catches my eye, and I still have all my connections to the music world—might as well see if I can put them to use.

The crew at the station knew I was in Cross My Heart; some were even fans of us, but it didn’t affect my transition into the station—if anything, it gave me some common ground with some of them.

“You didn’t get me a beer?”

Andrew Jenkins is already getting on my fucking nerves tonight, and the band hasn’t even started yet.

Emilio shakes his head, apologizing with a shrug of his shoulders. Andrew grumbles something under his breath before walking away and joining some other group—no doubt annoying the shit out of them too.

“Who even invited him?” Emilio asks me, and I just shake my head.

Andrew Jenkins is one of those guys who somehow manages to wear out his welcome before he’s even technically arrived. The kind of guy who always has something to complain about, someone to criticize, or a reason why the world has personally inconvenienced him.

He's been a volunteer firefighter for all of five minutes and already acts like he's got twenty years on the job.

During training drills, he's constantly second-guessing instructors, offering opinions nobody asked for, and finding ways to turn every lesson into an argument. If someone gets praised, he has a reason they didn't deserve it. If he screws something up, it's somebody else's fault.

I've lost count of the number of times I've watched him create tension in the station over absolutely nothing.

I watch him insert himself into another conversation across the bar, already talking with his hands and shaking his head dramatically about something. Three people exchange looks over his shoulder.

Maybe tonight he'll keep the damage limited to annoying a few strangers and complaining about free live music and beer on someone else’s tab.

Somehow, though, I doubt it.

“Is Emerson coming tonight?” Emilio asks, and I know the interest he’s shown in my girlfriend is her relation to a certain barista he has been mentioning ever since we went to Hey Honey’s earlier this week.

I nod. “She and Brooke are closing up next door and then heading over.”

“Cool.” Emilio purses his lips, trying to act nonchalant, and I look away to hide my smile.

The door to Lenny’s pushes open, and a gust of warm, July air rushes in. I raise a hand to get Jack and Rumi’s attention, Ava and Anderson following close behind them.