Page 43 of Anything But Lonely

“You know,” she starts, taking a step closer to me. I know I should keep space between us, be the one to create the distance, but I can’t. “If you want to end that dry spell of yours, you’re going to have to touch someone without looking like you’re scared they’re going to bite you.”

Embarrassment threatens to have me sprinting into the bathroom and locking the door behind me—the thought of living out the rest of my days in there sounding better and better the longer her eyes are on me.

I’d have everything I need. My son, water, and a convenient place to avoid making eye contact with anyone ever again

“And while we’re at it,” Emerson adds, looking me over, “you also need to get rid of that I’m about to go run and hide look.”

It takes me a second to realize that it’s not that I said my thoughts aloud; that’s just how scared I must look to her right now.

And the worst part? I think she likes it.

“Sorry,” I say again because what else am I supposed to say right now?

One moment, Emerson is my son's nanny.

We coexist.

We trade schedules and stories about Crew's day.

We navigate Crew's routine like two people just sharing a space.

The next, I’m painfully aware that she’s in the bedroom next to mine. That there’s a wall between us that suddenly feels far too thin. My mind starts betraying me with images I don’t ask for. Her tattoos against mine, her dark hair tangled with my fingers, her green eyes watching me as I⁠—

“Knock, knock!” Theo’s voice has me jumping, and it’s like it pops the bubble I was just in, all the noise rushing back in—but Emerson doesn’t even flinch. She raises a brow, her lips quirking to one side, not at all bothered as the tour bus door opens. And that’s when I register that I have no idea how long I’ve been staring at her.

“Ready to fix that last chorus?” Silas’ question rings through the space, footsteps echoing through the living room as Crew calls out for Emerson.

I completely forgot the guys were going to come over to talk through a small change in one of our songs. We have about an hour before we start the overnight drive to San Francisco for tomorrow night’s show.

“Ems!” Crew yells out again, a little louder, as the tour bus door closes behind Silas, Theo, and Eddie, who brought over his guitar.

“Yeah, Ems,” Theo teases as Silas and Eddie look back and forth between Emerson and me.

Emerson offers the guys a smile before she lets out a sigh. “Duty calls,” she announces before she turns to head to the bathroom. “Make sure to keep it down, boys,” she says before she turns to me. “Fix your face, rockstar. You look like you’re still trying to figure out if I have fangs.” And then she disappears into the bathroom.

Silence stretches for a few moments, my three best friends staring at me hard enough to feel it on my skin, but I’m frozen where I stand, staring at the place Emerson just abandoned. Her words circle around in my head so quickly, they become a jumbled mess.

I don’t have to turn to Eddie, Theo, and Silas to know they each have their own amused smirks on their face, so I hold up my hand before any of them can say what I know they’re all probably thinking.

What the hell did they just walk into?

“Not a word,” I order, sitting back down on the couch, not only because I don’t want to talk about whatever the hell that just was, but because I don’t think I could, even if I tried.

I know I think about my son’s nanny more often than what most would deem appropriate, but tell me why it’s getting harder and harder to keep these thoughts at bay.

And why I think she’s in the process of making it her own personal goal to kill me.

I ignore the snickering of the three of them as Eddie sits down next to me, and Theo and Silas settle on the table across from us.

Silas goes to grab the cards that Crew and Emerson left.

“Don’t,” I rush out, and it comes out harsher than I intended, but I don’t want him to mess up their game. Silas turns to look at me, his face even more amused now.

He lifts his hands up with a shit-eating grin as Theo lowers his head to hide the way he’s quietly laughing.

“You want to tell us what we just walked into?” Silas asks.

“Nothing,” I answer.