Brooklyn beams and sits back in her chair. “Thank you very much. You know who else does? My mommy.”
Mason shifts beside me, and I look over to find a wistful expression on his face. I don’t want to know what my own looks like right now. My heart sinks to my stomach as Naomi stares down at her lap and plays with the hem of her sweater.
“That’s cool. I don’t have a mommy anymore.”
Brooklyn sighs. “I don’t either. Except for Mama Lib but she’s just my new mommy. I had another one before her but she died when I was a baby.”
Naomi’s head snaps up to the little girl. “Really?” she asks in a shaky tone.
Brooklyn nods, eyes wide and earnest. “Yes. I didn’t bring my Mommy Book but I’ll show it to you when you come over to play in the sandbox. It’s how I ‘member her always. It’s got lots of pictures and remembories. Do you have a Mommy Book?”
Naomi sucks in a breath and shakes her head. “N… no. Not really.”
Brooklyn tilts her head. “You don’t? You should. Then you can ‘member your mommy too. You can put all your favorite remembories in it.”
“That’s a good idea,” Naomi says quietly. My heart breaks at the tears in her voice. I instinctively take a step toward her, but Mason pulls me back. His eyes are warm and compassionate as he shakes his head and holds a finger to his lips.
“Why are you crying?” Brooklyn asks, her face draped in concern.
Naomi wipes her sleeve over her eyes and shakes her head. “I guess… I’m just sad. I miss my mommy.”
Brooklyn nods in understanding and scoots her chair closer to Naomi’s. “Can I show you something else?” she whispers, her face inches from Naomi’s.
Naomi looks up, uncertain. “I guess so.” Before she can react, Brooklyn throws her tiny arms around the older girl and squeezes as hard as she can. Her face scrunches from the effort, small grunts escaping from her. After a surprised flinch, Naomi settles into the embrace and locks her arms around Brooklyn’s little body in return. They sit like that for several seconds, neither of them speaking but somehow sharing an instant bond that no one outside of their mini universe can understand.
My own eyes burn as I watch, my heart aching and soaring at the same time. Mason rests his hand on my shoulder, and I swat at my eyes before crossing an empathizing look to him.
“This is called a bear hug,” Brooklyn says quietly at Naomi’s ear. “You know why it’s called a bear hug?”
Naomi sniffs and shakes her head.
“Because the bear scares all the sad away.”
CHAPTER 22
JULIAN
I don’t know who’s more nervous: Naomi or me. My stomach has been in knots all day. Even our typical snarky exchanges have been reduced to a few quips and well-placed eye-rolls.
I walk Naomi and her guitar to the green room where the artists are gathering to check in with the organizers and wait for their turn to perform. There’s still an hour until the showcase begins, and from the program, Naomi is slotted to go fourth.
She looks amazing standing at the door with her guitar. Hadley helped her with her makeup and styled her hair into soft waves on one side and a tight braid from front to back on the other. I legit gasped when she came out of her room with her cool hair, flowy green shirt, and ripped black skinny jeans. It’s all so her. A snarky, kickass angel.
The only thing missing is the confidence in her eyes.
“You got this, Omi,” I say, bending over to search her face. I brace my hands on her arms and hold her steady.
“But what if I screw up?” she asks, her voice wavering.
“You can’t screw up. You can forget the words, play a wrong chord, or burst into tears in the middle of the song and run off the stage.” She makes a face at that one. “But you can’t screw up, because you’ve already aced this just by being here.”
She looks away and stares at the floor.
“Hey, you listening to me?” I ask, gently tugging her arms until she looks up. She does and meets my gaze with her giant green eyes. “You got this, Naomi Hayes. You’ve already overcome more than all those other kids in there. This?”—I wave my hand around us—“Is freaking chocolate cake compared to what you’ve overcome.”
She nods, still unconvinced. “I wish you could come with me,” she whispers, clutching my sleeve.
I sigh, an ache spreading through my chest. That constant protectiveness surges inside me, desperate to fight her battle and block anything that could hurt her. But anything worth having will take a piece of your soul. I can help her find the strength she needs, but the struggle has to come from her.
“I know. But I’m going to be right down there in the audience. Hadley, Viv, and Oliver too. We’re going to be cheering so loudly it’s gonna be ridiculously embarrassing for you.”
“You better not,” she mutters.
I grin and shrug. “Try and stop me.”
She groans, finally stepping back.
“Just remember to picture everyone naked,” I add.
“Ew, gross!” Naomi shudders. “Goodbye, Uncle J.”
I clasp my hands against my chest in fake enthusiasm. “Wait until you see the posters we made!”
Her eyes narrow. “Hilarious.”
“Puffy paint, and glitter, and those little pom-poms,” I say, still facing her as I retreat backward.
“Goodbye, Uncle J.” She shoos me away, but I see it before she turns. The tiniest hint of a smile.
She’s got this. We’ve got this.
My leg bounces uncontrollably in my seat, and Hadley shoots a hand over to still it.
“You’re shaking the whole row,” she hisses.
“Sorry.” I lean forward instead, steepling my fingers in front of my mouth and nose. How many stages have I played? How many screaming fans? Radio interviews, television spots… and never have I been as nervous as I am right now.
“She’s going to do great,” Hadley whispers. She threads her arm around mine and drags me back in the seat.
I sigh and try to take a deep breath.
A commotion at the end of our row draws our attention, and we look over to find Viv apologizing to awed face after awed face as she squeezes past them. Several cover their mouths and bounce way more than my knee ever did. She finally reaches us and drops to the empty seat between Oliver and me.
“What are you doing?” I ask. “This is your event. Aren’t you supposed to be up there in that throne?” I motion toward the judges’ table where an absurd red chair that looks suspiciously like a throne is crammed between several occupied normal chairs.
Viv grunts. “Yeah, I’m not sitting in that. Besides, that’s for Genevieve. Not me.”
I shake my head with a smirk. “Don’t you have to judge?”
Viv huffs a laugh. “Nope. I’m just a figurehead. I don’t actually have a say in who wins the scholarships. Which reminds me…”
Her amusement fades as she studies my face. “Look, I invited Naomi to participate in this because I think she deserves to be here. Her love of music and dedication is exactly what this event and charity is about. Having said that, I want to warn you that the likelihood of her winning tonight is slim to none. That’s not at all a statement on her talent or drive. It’s just, most of these kids have been training their entire lives, not just for a few weeks like Naomi.”