Page 86 of Anything But Lonely

Crew perks up. “What?”

“It still tastes pretty good.” I hold the slice up to him. “You want to try?”

He must be starving in addition to being overtired and missing his mom. I need him to just take a bite, and hopefully this tantrum will subside.

Crew considers my offer for a moment, his eyes going from me to the pizza in my hand. And then he leans in, taking a bite and chewing slowly. A wide smile blooms on his face, and it has my heart clenching.

He takes the pizza from me and completely devours it. Only pausing between bites to ask for another. Only this time, I can leave the pepperoni on—his words, not mine.

Later that night, I don’t even give Mateo time to put his backpack down. “You need to fly Talia out here.”

He stops mid-step, the door quietly clicking shut behind him. It’s only ten o’clock—right on time as always. Crew fell asleep at least an hour before his bedtime, and I’ve been sitting here waiting to hear the beep of the hotel lock since.

“Okay,” Mateo replies, stretching out the word.

“I know she said she’s busy with work, but Crew needs his mom. He was a mess tonight, and not only is he exhausted, but he needs her.” Emotion clogs my throat at my own words.

Because there are some things no one else can replace.

A scraped knee can be kissed better. A nightmare can be soothed. A tantrum can be fixed with patience and a slice of pizza.

But when a kid needs his mom, there’s a certain kind of ache that only she can ease.

I know that better than anyone.

There isn’t a minute that goes by that I don’t want my mom.

To hear her voice, to feel her arms around me, to have one more day where I didn’t know what it felt like to lose her.

“I’ll make sure she sees him,” Mateo says, and I realize he’s standing just inches from me. I don’t even know when he closed the distance between us.

“Good.” I nod my head once, ignoring the prickle in my nose and pretending it doesn’t mean what I know it does.

I missed this week’s therapy session in the chaos of the tour, marking the first time in three weeks that I’d gone more than seven days without one—and by the way I’m feeling right now, it’s safe to say that it shows.

I make a mental note to email Dr. Hannah and confirm next week’s virtual appointment, making sure the time still works around Crew’s schedule. In most cases, we wouldn’t be able to continue our sessions since I’m not in Wisconsin, but she was able to make an exception since I’m technically traveling for work.

Taking a deep breath, I realize it’s the first one I’ve managed since Mateo walked in. Maybe since I carried Crew to his bed.

Mateo’s eyes bore into mine, and the air instantly thickens. My chest rises and falls as my breaths come in more evenly. The room suddenly feels smaller as my shoulders tense and my throat tightens.

I can feel the warmth of his stare, the weight of the silence between us, and the way my body braces itself for whatever comes next.

Then I blink, and Mateo is across the room, like Edward when Bella was about to get hit by the car—only Mateo is running from disaster rather than towards it.

“I’m going to bed,” he abruptly says, and then he disappears behind his bedroom door, closing it quietly since Crew is already asleep in his bed.

The emotional whiplash is enough to leave me reeling.

What the fuck just happened?

A few days later, the three of us are sitting on the tour bus, Mateo and I sipping on coffee while Crew lounges across the couch, watching something on his tablet while finishing his breakfast.

It’s the kind of morning that has come to feel normal. Familiar. Comfortable.

The bus hums beneath us as it rolls down the highway, the low rumble blending with the quiet sounds of Crew’s show playing in the background and the occasional clink of a coffee cup against the table.

Mateo sits across from me, relaxed in his seat, one ankle resting over his knee as he scrolls through his phone between sips. Crew’s legs are stretched out beside him, completely content in his little world, occasionally pausing his show to ask a random question or hold up his tablet to show us something he finds funny.