13. Emerson #2
I hear pieces of the song as Mateo sings, the sound carrying through the empty venue in a way that feels almost too intimate. There’s no crowd screaming, no lights, no thousands of people between him and the words. Just him, the band, and the few of us standing in the grass watching.
Liam picks Crew up as he cheers for his dad.
I see when Mateo notices his son, holding the microphone in one hand, he points directly at him with the other.
His voice is raw and raspy with this emotional edge that just pours out of him so seamlessly.
And when he smiles at his son, it’s like capturing a moment so memorable you don’t even need a camera.
The lyrics hit me before I can stop them.
About putting your arms around a ghost. About having to close the door on the only love you knew.
Words I’ve never said out loud, somehow coming from his mouth.
I know what it feels like to carry someone who isn’t there anymore. To keep reaching for them. To wish you could say goodbye.
Because some ghosts don't haunt houses.
They haunt you.
Mateo’s voice drops lower as he reaches the end of the second chorus, holding onto a note long enough that it settles somewhere deep in my chest. The kind of note that makes the empty venue feel smaller.
I don’t even notice the stage light blocking or line checking—I barely register Liam putting Crew on his shoulders or Crew’s mumbled singing of the lyrics.
“Hit ’em with the riff,” he yells into the mic, pointing toward Theo just before the guitar cuts through the air, filling the space between the seats and the stage.
Theo plays through the solo, and even without an audience, the energy shifts.
Like the space remembers what it's supposed to feel like when thousands of people are screaming back.
Then the music cuts.
And suddenly it’s just Mateo.
His voice carries through the speakers, his face on the screens surrounding the stage. He’s stripped of everything else as he sings about someone still being right there with him. About being unable to say goodbye. About needing to let go.
I don't move.
Because he’s singing about the exact thing I’ve been refusing to name. And somehow, it feels like he’s singing directly to me.
The instruments build again, each note layering on top of the last until the final chorus crashes through the venue. The words settle into me, not like a song I’m hearing for the first time, but like something I’ve known all along.
Something that was waiting for someone else to say it first.
His eyes close as he reaches the last chorus, his fingers tightening around the microphone while his voice fills the space between us.
He’s different up there. Different from the man I saw at the bar or talked to last night.
It’s like this is the one place where he doesn’t have to wonder what he’s supposed to be.
And that thought has me longing for something I didn’t know I wanted.
A place where I don’t have to wonder where I’m meant to be.
A place where I can be anything but lonely.
When the song ends, the last note hangs in the air for a moment before fading away.
And in the silence that follows, I realize I forgot there was anyone else here.
“Em, you okay?” Liam’s face comes into focus in front of me, Crew still on his shoulders as he claps—a one-man audience.
I shake my head, my bangs tickling my forehead. “Fine,” I answer, and we both pretend not to notice the crack in my voice.
“Someone a little starstruck?” Liam raises a brow, a smirk on his boyish face.
I cross my arms, thankful for the playfulness. “Jealous?” I feel my lips curl, the harmless flirting making me feel more like myself—the version I’ve been trying to be.
Liam holds Crew’s ankles as he sways back and forth to the music now playing over the speakers as the audio team messes around with the volume.
“You have no idea,” Liam replies. “If I were playing a show and had someone looking at me like you were looking at Mateo Lane,” he pauses, blowing out a dramatic breath.
“Let’s just say, I don’t think Crew will be the only one calling Mateo “daddy” by the end of this tour. ”
I roll my eyes, letting Liam’s words go in one ear and out the other. “Good one,” I deadpan. “How long have you been waiting to say that one?”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “Since you texted me you got the job.”
I snort, the admission being funnier than the joke itself. I look up at Crew to ask him how he liked watching his dad sing when I hear my name over the speaker, instantly pulling my attention to the stage.
I step around him to find Mateo looking at me. Only this time, there’s no tension in his shoulders, no darkened eyes, no clenched jaw. He’s breathing hard as he runs a tattooed hand through his hair before waving me over. “Come meet everyone.”
It takes a second for my feet to move. I don’t take a step until Liam lowers Crew to the ground, and I finally come back to myself. Reaching my hand out for Crew to grab, he takes it eagerly. There’s a skip to his step as we make our way to the stage.
The lyrics of the song they just finished float around my brain, the familiar chords echoing in my mind even as I try to ignore them, along with Liam’s words.
Liam has no idea what he saw—and he has no idea that teasing me about my attraction to Mateo is like laughing at water being wet.
Obvious in a way that I can’t even be embarrassed about.
But I’m not going to act on it. Especially not after today.
I’ve had too many close calls with feelings already, and too many reminders that all they do is fuck everything up.
“Hey, guys.” Mateo’s voice carries across the stage, pulling the attention of the rest of the band. The three guys make their way over to where Crew and I are standing, meeting us at the center of the stage where Mateo is waiting.
“You all know Crew,” he says, reaching down and scooping him up before Crew can even protest.
My eyes follow the movement before I can stop them.
It’s unfair how easily he does it.
How natural he looks with Crew tucked against his side, one hand holding his son securely while the other grabs the microphone he’d been using moments before. Like somehow he can go from commanding an entire stage to being just a dad in the span of a breath.
And it’s annoying that he’s more attractive like this.
Crew gives fist bumps to each of the three band members, proudly accepting every introduction like he’s been part of the group for years.
Then Mateo turns back toward me.
“Eddie, Theo, and Silas,” he says, pointing to each of the guys.
I nod in greeting, but my attention betrays me for half a second, catching on Mateo instead.
And it pisses me off.
Because I noticed him last night. I noticed the way he flushed, the way he tapped his fingers or bounced his legs with nervous energy, the way he watched me this morning with Crew.
But seeing him here is different. There’s confidence, the way he carries himself, the way everyone seems to wait for his word.
Maybe it's the stage lights catching the sharp lines of his face. Maybe it's the way his black shirt stretches across his shoulders, or the way the veins in his forearm pop out as he holds the microphone, even when he’s not singing. Whatever it is, it's fucking frustrating.
Liam and the other guys from Sugarcoated Lies make their way toward us, and I force my attention away before I can get caught staring.
“And this is Emerson,” Mateo says, his voice cutting through the noise, “my nanny.”
I blink, suddenly very aware that I’m standing in front of a group of strangers while Mateo Lane introduces me as his.
Like he’s staking a claim.
And usually, a man doing that has me wanting to break his jaw.
Or at least knocking him down a few pegs.
“His nanny,” I repeat, looking at Mateo.
And while there’s something intriguing about Mateo calling me his, old habits die hard.
I look at the guys. “You know, technically he hired me for Crew. But after watching him nearly take out an entire sound system ten minutes ago, I thought I’d expand my responsibilities. ”
For a second, there’s silence.
Then Eddie lets out a laugh, shaking his head as he looks at Mateo. “Oh, she’s gonna be fun.”
Theo’s eyebrows shoot up, a grin spreading across his face. “I like her.”
Mateo glances over. “You’ve known her for five seconds.”
“Yeah,” Silas chimes in, pointing at me. “And in those five seconds, I already see her taking a good ten years off your life.”
“Just doing my job.” I salute in their direction before asking Crew, “Ready for lunch?”
Crew wiggles out of his dad’s hold before grabbing my hand as we walk towards the stairs on the side of the stage.
“Try not to break anything while I’m gone, okay, rockstar?” I say over my shoulder, finding Mateo watching me walk away, his lips curled in a small smirk.
He shakes his head, as if accepting his defeat.
And I have to remind myself that Mateo Lane is my boss.
He’s Crew’s dad.
It’ll be good for me to remember that.
Too bad, I’m not always one to do what’s good for me.