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He should have known.
Really—it’s his fault. Has to be. Started years back, maybe, with Abby and a relationship he should have never been in in the first place. And it’s not that he regrets it. He doesn’t. Learned more about himself in that relationship than he did in twenty-five years of life before her.
Okay, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration. But he did learn a lot. How to be a boyfriend. How to show up for somebody. How to—no, actually, he didn’t learn that from Abby.
How to be left.
That started years before Abby. With his parents. His sister. His brother. Hell—Daniel had left him before he even knew what being left meant. And that’s nobody’s fault, obviously. Nobody could’ve controlled that—even though his parents tried like hell. It’s just—
That pattern has been a part of Buck’s life for a long time.
It continued with Abby (who left him at the airport and then on read and then in the house that she never planned to come back to while she travelled the world and Buck—what, sat back and waited for her for months while she found someone else to fall in love with who she eventually asked him to save anyway because that’s all he’s good for—).
The pattern continues.
It continued with Ali (who—okay—he understood, slightly, because he knows his job is dangerous and he had just been crushed by a ladder truck and honestly, he thinks he would’ve been concerned if she didn’t want to run for the hills but it doesn’t change the fact that he liked her and she left him anyway).
The pattern continues.
It continued with Maddie a second time (who—he doesn’t blame, he knows she was going through a hard time and he will always, always, welcome his sister back with open arms no matter how far they might stray from each other). It continued with Taylor (who—okay, yeah, that was a shitshow in itself and it was mostly his fault but he did—he cared about her). It continued with Natalia (who technically, he broke up with, and it’s not that they ended on bad terms, it’s just—they ended).
The pattern continues.
It continued with Tommy (who—yeah, they had their moments, he thinks, and yeah, he was a little creeped out by the whole Abby thing, and yeah, he knows they started a bit rocky, but they—Buck thought they had gotten to a point where Tommy would’ve said yes when Buck said I want you to move in with me and instead he said I’m your first not your last like Buck’s supposed to know what that means).
He’s used to being left.
He just—never expected Eddie to be the one to leave.
And that’s—isn’t that selfish of him—because Eddie’s been miserable without Christopher and he finally looks like he’s in a place where he’s able to see happiness ahead of him. Who’s Buck to try and take that away from him? Just because he—he might have had an oh moment on Eddie’s couch because—because yes, Tommy breaking up with him hurt. But—but the idea of Eddie leaving (not just the 118 this time—because that hurt—but actually, truly, moving eight-hundred miles away to another state)—he thinks he’d rather have his other leg crushed by a ladder truck.
But he’s not—he’s not that person. He can’t say don’t go and he can’t say take me with you so what he does say is you need a wingman and Eddie makes him a cup of coffee and sits it in front of him and Buck watches him talk to the Real Estate Agent while he spirals just a little bit more and at the end of the call—Eddie turns to Buck and says can you think of anything else? and Buck says I feel like you covered it all even though what he really wants to say is I’m in love with you.
But he can’t say that and he doesn’t say that because he will never make Eddie choose him in place of Christopher. In place of his own happiness. So Buck sits and wallows a bit more and when Eddie looks at him after he hangs up and says I think that went well—Buck swallows back the bile in his throat and blurts, “I forgot—I have to—I have to stop by Maddie and Chim’s.”
Eddie raises an eyebrow at him. “I thought you came here to make Snickerdoodles.”
“I did.” Buck says, and his heart clenches at the fact that he’ll never be able to make Snickerdoodles in Eddie’s kitchen again or drink beer together on his couch or—fuck, would Eddie have even told him or was his plan to—to text Buck from Texas and say hey, I moved to Texas because Christopher is here? Would—would Eddie have even texted or would Bobby have told him when he arrived at work one day to find a new partner and—and Eddie’s locker empty?
Was he not worth a goodbye?
“Buck.” Eddie says, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder, but Buck—no, Eddie can’t see the pain in his eyes. Because Eddie—he isn’t cruel. Seeing Buck hurt would make Eddie hurt and that would be a dance Buck just can’t allow himself to do right now. He can’t allow Eddie to feel guilty for wanting to watch his son grow up.
Eddie is the best Dad Buck knows. And for a time—he allowed Buck to have a taste of what a life with the Diaz boys might look like. But that’s all it was. A taste. Eddie is still Chris’ father and he’s still just—Eddie’s replaceable best friend.
“I did.” He repeats. “Just—I remembered Jee left something in my car the other day. Have to return it before she realizes it’s gone, you know?”
Eddie blinks. “Okay.”
“Okay.” Buck repeats. “I’ll, uh—see you at work.”
He stumbles backwards and barely catches himself on the corner of Eddie’s couch—he desperately wants to burn that couch, he decides, because he hates it and the implication of it and what he now knows because of it—as he makes a beeline for the door. And it’s only as it closes behind him that he thinks, heart shattering into a million pieces—
Maybe he needs to start being the one to leave.
It’s Chim who opens the door.
“Buck.” He says, surprised, and Buck realizes he didn’t even call—doesn’t even know if his sister’s home because he just—he had to get away from Eddie.
It’s ironic, he thinks, that Eddie’s been—for the better part of eight years, the person Buck runs to when he’s in a crisis. His person. His best friend. And now—what, he’s the person Buck runs away from? And it’s not—it’s not that Eddie’s leaving him. It’s not that he’s too much or too reckless or too anything else.
It’s just—Eddie needs to be with his son.
“Hey.” Buck says, and he know he looks crazy because his eyes are red from the tears he attempted to blink away on the drive over here. “Uh—sorry, I didn’t call before—”
Chimney must hear something in his voice because he steps aside and lets Buck in. “Maddie should be back in a few minutes.”
He barely makes it into the house before the most adorable little girl in the world appears and starts bouncing up and down in front of him. “Uncle Buck!” She says, taking his hand and dragging him into the kitchen. “We bake today?”
He laughs—despite himself, but it’s hollow and not his usual full-body laughter that he emits when Eddie makes one of his stupid jokes or—or when he’s trying to cheer Buck up and it’s Eddie so of course it works.
“I think I’m all baked out.” Buck admits, lifting his niece into his arms and depositing her onto the counter. “But I could use a hug from my favorite girl.”
And Jee—she’s four-years-old, so of course she doesn’t ask, she just wraps her arms around Buck’s neck and buries her face in his collarbone. And Buck—he squeezes her to him and avoids Chimney even though he can feel his brother-in-law’s eyes on him.
Which is how his sister finds them.
He helps Jee-Yun down so she can run to greet her mother and Maddie passes a few of the bags in her arms to her husband and sits the other ones on the counter as she crouches down to press a kiss to the side of her daughter’s head and Buck thinks about how domestic the three of them look as a family and how he won’t ever have that.
Not with Eddie and Christopher.
And it’s not that he would have had it either if Eddie wasn’t moving to El Paso. If Christopher had actually wanted to come back. It’s just—a lot to wrap his brain around at one time. His best friend’s moving eight-hundred miles away. Buck’s in love with said best friend. They’re not related to each other. The only thing they have in common is—Eddie, which is like half of Buck’s life already, so it’s fine.
“Buck.” Maddie says. “Tell me you didn’t text Tommy.”
Because his sister knows him and of course that’s the first place her mind would go. From the look she exchanges with his brother-in-law, he thinks maybe he’s just one big ticking time bomb they’re all waiting for to go off.
“No.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t text Tommy.”
Maddie’s shoulders relax. “Good.”
“Eddie is moving to El Paso.” He blurts.
It’s the first time he’s said it out loud and the words make him nauseous. Eddie said it about twenty times on the call with the Real Estate Agent, but Buck never—never allowed himself to look at his best friend and say you’re moving to El Paso before he made a beeline out the door.
Maybe Eddie’s excited about the move. Maybe he’s already packing up the things he wants to take versus the things he doesn’t. Maybe he’s already called Christopher to tell him the news. He thinks Christopher probably can’t wait to see his Dad again. He knows they’ve been on the outs for a few months, but Eddie loves that kid fiercely.
Buck loves that kid fiercely.
“Oh, Evan.” Maddie says—like she knows something he only just himself realized—and she steps forward to wrap her arms around him tightly. “I’m so sorry.”
He sniffles. “It’s—it’s for Christopher.”
“Is that what Christopher wants?” Chimney asks.
Buck shrugs. “I—I assume he told him. I—Christopher likes it there. Eddie said he’s in a few clubs and I think he likes being close to his grandparents.” He pulls away from his sister and feels a lone tear trail down his face. “I’m never going to see either of them again.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.” Maddie says, and she sounds sad for somebody who doesn’t really spend a lot of time with Buck’s—well, whatever he is. “I’m sure you’ll call every day and visit each other whenever you can.”
“That’s not the same.” Buck says. “I—I thought he’d come home.”
“Christopher.” Maddie clarifies.
Buck nods. “He’s—I know he’s not mine.” He shifts his eyes to where Jee-Yun has taken to playing with her toys. “I know I don’t have any rights to Christopher. Not unless—” No, he already has to think about Eddie leaving L.A., he doesn’t want to think about him dying too. “I just—I don’t have any rights to ask him to come home.”
“Buck.” Chimney says, and he sounds sincere. Not that Chimney’s not sincere, but they’re brothers and the two of them rib each other more than they don’t. Him and Chimney don’t do this. Him and Maddie do this. Which, he thinks, maybe means it’s worse than it is and he already thinks it’s pretty bad. “Listen—I’m sorry. I’ll miss Eddie—obviously, but I know it’s different for you.”
Buck doesn’t even bother to deny it. Thinks it’s different in more ways than one. Obviously, there’s the elephant in the room (well—Buck’s mind, if it were a room, because he hasn’t told anyone and maybe he never will). But—besides that, he thinks it’s just a fact that he likes being surrounded by Eddie. By Christopher. For a while there, it almost felt like they were—not a family, but something sure close to it. Selfishly, he doesn’t know how to give that up.
“I don’t think it’s fair for you to say you don’t have the right to ask.” Chimney says, carefully. “We have all been a witness to the way you’ve shown up for Christopher and the way you love him like he’s your own. He’s fourteen years old. Obviously, if he wants to stay in Texas—you won’t be able to change his mind. But—don’t you think it’s worth a conversation?”
“I’m not his father.” Buck says. “I’m—I’m nothing to them.”
He thought about it on the drive over here. When it comes down to it—what him and Eddie are to each other (and not in the way where Buck says everything—where he would lay his life down for the Diaz boys and say go to Texas to be with your kid if it makes you happy, even if I never see you again, even if it kills me—but—practically). They’re coworkers. Best friends. Each other’s medical proxies. Buck is still in Eddie’s will to—to take care of Christopher. And that’s—not nothing. Buck thinks he’ll probably ask Eddie to update his will, though, before he leaves, along with his medical records. God forbid something did happen to Eddie (would Buck ever know, or just—would he be watching the news one day and hear El Paso firefighter Edmundo Diaz killed in line of duty? Would Bobby find out before him?)—anyway, there’s a long line of people, he thinks, that would have to be killed before Christopher would be his.
And it’s not that he doesn’t believe his sister. He’s sure they’ll talk at first—maybe every other day or every day, if he’s lucky, for a while. Eddie will FaceTime him as soon as he arrives in Texas and let him talk to Christopher. Buck will smile through the tears in his eyes and compliment their new house and ask Christopher what’s new and he’ll tell them he misses them both and the conversation will end and maybe there will be another and another and then—there just…won’t be.
One of them will be on shift when the other calls. Christopher will have a school function or Bobby will invite Buck over for dinner or—or Eddie will send him pictures of Chris’ fifteenth or sixteenth or seventeenth birthday and he’ll look happy and Eddie will look happy and he’ll find someone he wants to be with who’s not Buck. And Buck will be—
Alone.
Babysitting his sister and Chimney’s kids. Which—listen, he adores his niece. He’ll offer to watch her whenever he can and he knows he’ll love his future niece/nephew just as much. But—he thinks about everybody moving forward and how he’s just—kind of stuck here. In this pattern of everyone leaving him behind.
“Do you love him?” Chimney asks, and Buck doesn’t know if they’re talking about Chris or Eddie anymore. It doesn’t matter. They’re a package deal—Eddie and Christopher—and Buck would do it all over again every single time if only to have a little more of the family he fell into.
“Yeah.” Buck says. “Of course.”
“Listen.” Maddie reasons, placing a hand on his arm. “I think, maybe—just don’t let this freak you out right now. There’s a lot involved in a move. Christopher might still change his mind. You don’t know what will happen in a few months.”
Buck swallows. “Yeah.” He says. “Don’t freak out—I can do that.”
It’s a week later when Eddie breaks the news to Bobby.
Buck—because the universe hates him—happens to be there. Him and Bobby are cooking together because Bobby thinks he’s still upset about Tommy even though Buck hasn’t thought about Tommy since Eddie said they’re not in LA, they’re in El Paso. Buck hasn’t told Bobby because, well—it’s not his place to share, and the part that is his to share won’t matter soon anyway because Buck will be alone the way he always is when Eddie leaves for Texas.
Maybe more surprisingly—Chimney hasn’t told anybody. Well—maybe Hen. Definitely Hen, if he thinks about the looks she’s been shooting him for the past couple of days. But she’s not mentioned it to him and God knows Buck won’t bring it up on his own.
“Nothing’s set in stone.” Eddie says, and Buck feels sick all over again. “Just—I wanted to let you know I might need a transfer to El Paso.”
Bobby’s eyes shift between Buck and Eddie. “Are you sure about this?”
“I—I need to be with my kid, Bobby.” Eddie nods, and Buck hates—that out of everyone who has ever left him, this is the one he’s sure will hurt the most. Hates even more that he understands why and that—if he wasn’t, you know, Eddie, he’d probably tell him to go.
Is his happiness at least as important to you as yours?
More, Buck thinks.
“I understand.” Bobby’s eyes linger on Buck even though he’s talking to Eddie and Buck stares at a spot on the counter because he can’t look at either of them. “I just hope you know we’ll miss you here at the 118.”
Eddie circles the counter to hug Bobby. “I know.” He says. “I’ll miss you too, Cap.”
Buck chops and chops and chops and he waits for his best friend to leave because he doesn’t think he can handle Bobby’s pity looks or Eddie’s concerned glances or—or the 118 knowing that Buck’s inevitably and tragically in love with Eddie Diaz.
Because Eddie will leave and Buck—he’ll still be here. Everyone will look at him like he’s a less-than version of himself without Eddie. And fuck—won’t he be? Can he remember a lifetime where it wasn’t Bobby’s voice calling out Buck and Eddie, like they weren’t a part of each other—like it wasn’t his heart aching and his mud-covered hands trying to pull Eddie out after the well collapsed even though everybody else thought he was dead or—or like it wasn’t his hands trying to hold the blood inside of Eddie’s body after he was shot by the sniper—like Bobby didn’t nearly flat out call him suicidal for the events of after, when he didn’t know if Eddie would wake up—when he would have had a child to raise and he—he would have had no idea.
He thinks about whether or not he would have survived it—if Eddie had died then. He doesn’t like to think about the possibility of any of the 118 dying, but in their line of work, it’s a possibility. He thinks about finding out about Eddie’s will from somebody who wasn’t Eddie. He would have had to survive. He would have had to figure out how to be a parent.
And then he thinks—because he didn’t then, he was too caught up in the how and the why and the pure relief of his best friend coming back to life that he didn’t think—it has to say something about the two of them. Eddie—bypassing over his parents and sisters and—his family—and choosing to leave the most important thing in the world to him—to Buck.
It has to say something.
He just—doesn’t know what.
“Buck?”
He chops and chops and chops. And he ignores Bobby and he ignores Eddie and he ignores the air around him because that’s—that’s his life now. Just make it through the day. So he chops and chops and—thump.
Shit.
“Buck!” Eddie says, and his voice is panicked as he looks at Buck’s bloody hand. It’s not that deep of a cut—just a nicked finger—but Buck still stares at it like he doesn’t know what to do and Eddie and Bobby just look at him like he’s damaged.
“Let me clean you up.” Eddie tells him.
“Eddie—”
“Please.” Eddie says, and Buck can’t deny him.
He follows his best friend to a chair and waits for the man to retrieve the first aid kit—head buried in his hands, blood smeared from forehead to cheek from what seems like the world’s smallest cut and Eddie takes a seat in front of him and holds out his hand in a way they do with patients all the time, but they’re them—more personal, more something else Buck’s never quite been able to place even with the knowledge that he—you know.
“Doesn’t seem like you need stitches.”
“I’ve been through worse.” He says with a hollow laugh and Eddie looks up to meet his eyes, hand still wrapped around Buck’s and he doesn’t think he’d know how to explain this if anybody walked in on them, and Bobby’s standing right there, but then Eddie clears his throat and rips open a packet of gauze to apply pressure and Buck’s forced to look away.
“What are you going to do without me?” Eddie says, and it’s supposed to come across as a joke, a passing comment they can both laugh at, but it grabs a hold of Buck all the same.
He pulls his hand away and stands. “Thanks, Eddie.”
Eddie frowns. “Buck—”
“I’m—” He uses his uninjured hand to motion somewhere over his shoulder. “I’m going to grab a shower, Bobby.”
Bobby raises an eyebrow. “But dinner—”
“Not hungry!” Buck says back in an overly cheerful tone as he rounds the stairs and descends them two at a time.
“What the hell was that?” He hears Eddie ask—and Buck thinks the fact that he doesn’t hear Bobby respond probably says more than if he did.
“You okay?”
It’s two hours after the dinner fiasco (which was more fiasco than dinner considering Buck hid out in the locker room until they were called out to the scene of a car crash in which Buck had to watch a seventeen-year-old girl sob over the body of her boyfriend) when Hen trails after him up into the kitchen (where Buck had begged Bobby to let him clean up dinner if only to avoid—well, he’s not entirely sure what).
“Yeah.” He says on a swallow. “That call was rough.”
She studies him for a moment while he scrubs at a pot a little too hard. “It was.” She agrees. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”
He sighs. “Chimney did tell you.”
“Of course he did.” Hen says. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. Eddie told us all at dinner while you hid out in the locker room.”
“I didn’t hide.” Buck defends lamely.
Still—Buck feels his heart do something complicated in his chest. Eddie—he didn’t want Buck to know, but he—he had no problem telling the 118. He had no problem telling Bobby. And if Eddie’s telling people, Buck’s pretty sure that means it’s happening. Like—Buck might wake up next week and Eddie will be down in El Paso looking at places. Like—he’ll walk into work two months from now and Bobby will be introducing him to his new partner.
He doesn’t want a new partner.
Just don’t let this freak you out right now, Maddie had said. You don’t know what will happen in a few months.
“Buck.” Hen says.
“He didn’t even tell me.” Buck blurts. “Just—I showed up at his house to—to bake. I nearly texted Tommy.” The idea seems so bizarre now—like that was a Buck from another lifetime, a Buck who didn’t see what he did now, a Buck who wasn’t in love with his best friend. Honestly, he’s not sure that version of him even exists.
Thinks maybe Eddie was carved out for him.
“He was looking at houses.com.” The memory is engraved in his brain. The oh moment where it’s like—oh, you’re in love with your best friend, oh, you’re losing your best friend. And it’s all Buck’s fault. It’s his fault for falling in love with somebody he can never have. It’s his fault for letting the both of them believe Christopher would want to come home. “I thought—I don’t know, that maybe he was looking at places in L.A. and he said—they’re in El Paso.”
“He told you, Buck.” She says.
“Because he didn’t have a choice.” Buck replies. “And it’s not just that. He’s—he’s hugging Bobby and telling him how much he’ll miss him and then—he’s making jokes and asking me what I’ll do once he leaves like—like he thinks my life revolves around him.” He drops his shoulders and bows his head. “Maybe it does.”
Hen looks at Buck the way he doesn’t want to be looked at—like she already knows what he’s just recently learned about himself, like—like his feelings for Eddie were a puzzle he kept trying to fit the wrong piece into. “Buck—”
“I’m in love with him.” He says, turning to face her.
It’s the first time he’s ever said those words out loud—I’m in love with him. He never thought he’d say them about Eddie. And isn’t it funny (kind of tragic, actually) that he thinks he could’ve maybe loved Tommy (or somebody else) eventually in the before. Before he realized how deeply he loved his best friend. And now—
He’s in the after.
After, where he knows the sound Eddie’s lips make when he pulls them off of a beer bottle and he knows the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs (and Buck means really laughs, not the one he uses when he wants to fake it—and usually, he can, for everybody except Buck). He knows the way he loves how Eddie says Buck. The way he pulls on Buck’s harness exactly seven times every time to make sure he’s safe before a rescue.
And Buck wonders what it says about him, really, that he’s known Eddie for what feels like forever and these are moments he’s picked out in the last week.
In the after, he’ll never love somebody else. Because he knows—what he could have. And he may have had it for a short while, he thinks. Eddie and Christopher at Buck’s table while he cooked the three of them dinner. Playing video games on Eddie’s couch. Their trips to the zoo.
That’s the life he dreamed about.
“Yeah.” Hen says softly.
“You knew.”
“I suspected.” She admits. “Look, Buck. For what it’s worth—I don’t think he wanted to keep this from you because you mean less to him. Listen—you know Chim is my best friend. When he went to Boston a few years ago to track down your sister, he—I didn’t for sure know until he called and tried to leave me a voicemail on his way out of town. And I never—blamed him for that because I didn’t know whether or not he was coming back and he didn’t want to lie and say he was.”
“But Eddie’s not coming back.” Buck emphasizes, eyes red-rimmed as he tries to connect Hen and Chimney to him and Eddie. “Christopher is in Texas. There’s nothing left for him here.”
“Oh, Buck.” Hen says, a little sad, a little exasperated, like Buck’s somehow missing another piece of a puzzle he has no desire to finish. “That’s not—”
The alarm blares before she’s able to finish her sentence and she shoots him a sympathetic look as they take the stairs two at a time.
It’s better this way, Buck thinks, as Eddie claps him on the shoulder.
It has to be.
He’s in the middle of dusting the loft—a hobby he took up to counteract the original hobby he took up of baking when Tommy dumped him. He thinks he’s set for life—twelve loaves up bread in his fridge and his place is near spotless. Anyway, that’s what he’s doing when his phone sounds on his counter.
And—he’s sure it’s Eddie. Buck’s been, not really, because it’s barely been a couple of weeks since he had a metaphorical firetruck dropped on his heart, and also because they work together and they kind of have to talk and everything’s fine at work because it has to be and Eddie has to think Buck’s fine so that he doesn’t try to blow up his life and stay in L.A. because Buck has a broken heart, but sort of, avoiding Eddie. It’s fine. He answers his texts and makes up shitty excuses about why they can’t hang out and he feels even shittier for it after, but this is the way it’ll be, he thinks, from now on.
He's not sure it’s Christopher.
And—Buck has been teetering on the edge of where he stands with Christopher for the past couple of months. He misses the kid like crazy. Like—sometimes, he’ll be scrolling on his phone and read a random animal fact and turn to tell him and he’s just—not there. And it makes Buck’s chest ache in a way that makes him feel like he lost his own child.
But he can’t tell Eddie that—can he?—because it’s not fair. So he hasn’t. He texted Christopher a couple of times when he first left—to check in, to reiterate Eddie’s words, to make sure Christopher knew they would drive down to Texas to pick him up if he asked (when he asked). Chris responded with one-word answers until he didn’t. Buck texted him on his birthday with a collection of emojis that was received with a thank you, Buck—no emojis.
So—it’s unusual that Christopher would call him. Not unwelcome. Buck will answer his phone for this kid at any given moment of any day—even if he just wants to say hi. He’ll spend hours looking up weird facts to get Christopher to smile.
Thinks he probably won’t have much longer, anyway.
“Chris!” Buck raises his phone to his ear. “How are you?”
“Why is Dad planning to move to El Paso?”
That’s all he says. He doesn’t sound angry—not in the way he did when he first left, not in the way he did when they called him on his birthday. Just—confused. Maybe a bit sad. But—maybe Buck’s just hearing what he wants to. He thinks that might make him selfish. He doesn’t want Christopher to be so miserable in Texas with his grandparents that he wants to come back. He just—wants him to like L.A. more. Like when you’re a kid and your parents take you on vacation (except his parents were too busy trying to save their first son and figuring out whether or not they could actually love Buck so he can only imagine what that’s like) and you spend a couple of days in paradise and then you come home and you collapse into your bed and you think about why you ever left it in the first place.
He wants Chris’ home to be with them. Them—like he’s a part of Eddie and Chris. Like Eddie isn’t planning a move to Texas and asking Buck what he thinks about—about fucking floor plans—like he doesn’t want to wrap his arms around Eddie’s legs and say but what about me? Like Eddie isn’t acting like everything is completely fine—like Buck won’t feel his heart completely shatter in half when Eddie leaves.
“Uh.” Buck swallows.
Here it is, he thinks. A testament to how much he loves the Diazes. It doesn’t matter how much he feels like Christopher is his. He won’t ask him to come back. If Eddie’s happiness is dependent on Christopher, and Christopher’s happiness is dependent on not being here, and Buck’s happiness is dependent on the two of them being happy—he’ll learn to live with it.
“Because he’s your Dad.” Buck says, softly. “If you’re happy in El Paso, he wants to be there with you.”
Christopher huffs. “I don’t want him to move here.”
“Christopher.” Buck’s heart breaks for Eddie. “I know your Dad make a mistake. But—that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. He loves you so much.”
“I know that.” Christopher sounds frustrated. “He tells me every day.”
“He misses you.” Buck says, then—because he can’t help himself, adds— “I miss you.” Eddie will probably need help moving furniture, he thinks. It’s better that way. He doesn’t want their goodbye to be somewhere like the fire station or the loft or somewhere he sees every day. Maybe he’ll sneak in a quick hug to Christopher before the kid pulls away—tell him how proud he is and attempt not to cry when he leaves his heart in another state.
“I—” Christopher pauses. “Does Dad really want to live in El Paso?”
“I don’t know.” Buck admits. “I think he just wants to be wherever you are.”
The fourteen-year-old lets out a loud and dramatic sigh. “Well—he didn’t even ask.”
“I’m sure your Dad will involve you in picking the right house.” Buck says. “He’ll probably fly to El Paso and pick you up and you can visit a bunch of houses together.”
He says this like his heart isn’t full-out breaking in his chest. Thinks it already did weeks ago when Tommy broke up with him and then again when Eddie told him he was moving and now—he needs a shield, he thinks, when all is said and done, because he cannot and he won’t allow himself to fall in love with another single father and his little boy.
“No.” Christopher clarifies. “He didn’t ask if I wanted to stay in Texas.”
Buck’s heart definitely skips a beat. “What?”
“I want to come home.” Christopher says. “I called Dad to tell him I wanted to come home and he said he was glad I called because he wants to move to El Paso.”
“Did you—did you tell him?”
“No.” Christopher admits. “I wanted to talk to you first.”
“Christopher—”
“I don’t want him to sell our house.” Christopher continues. “And I don’t want to live in Texas for the rest of my life. I miss my friends and I miss California and—” He pauses. “I miss you and Dad all the time. And—the zoo is so small compared to L.A., Buck.”
Buck barks out a laugh. “You went without me?”
“Yeah.” Christopher admits. “But I like it better with you.”
And well—doesn’t that make Buck’s heart soar. He loves this kid. Like—he’s kind of Buck’s heart and soul. Him and his Dad. He’s—even if him and Eddie are him and Eddie, nothing more, nothing less, for the rest of their lives—Chris is as close to Buck’s own kid that Buck will ever allow a kid to be.
“I haven’t been since you left.” Buck says. “It didn’t feel right.”
There’s a slight pause on the other line. “Buck?”
“Yeah?” He says.
“Do you think Dad wants me to come home?”
Buck pauses. “Christopher—of course your Dad wants you to come home.”
“I know he loves me.” Christopher admits. “And I know he misses me and he wants to move to El Paso because I’m here. But—I think I hurt Dad a lot when I left.”
“He was hurt.” Buck admits, because he won’t lie to this kid. “But—you were hurt too, Chris. Your Dad made a mistake. He knows that. But—you learn from your mistakes. You can’t run away from them every time. Maybe you both could have handled things a little bit better.”
And—yeah, he’s aware he’s kind of the pot calling the kettle black, okay, but—it’s different. Eddie made a mistake. Buck is trying to tell Christopher that he should talk to Eddie instead of—avoiding him. And—okay, just call him a fucking hypocrite.
“Yeah.” Christopher relents. “That’s fair.”
“You should call your Dad.” Buck tells him. “Tell him you want to come back before he makes an offer on a house with a terrible layout.”
Christopher laughs. “He showed you that one, too?”
And yeah—Buck thinks. Maybe he’ll never have the Diazes in the way he truly wants. But—Eddie is his best friend and Christopher—Christopher wants to come home and Buck will make them all dinner and they’ll talk about Christopher’s time in El Paso and—it’s almost as good.
Almost.
“No, Bud—that’s perfect.” Eddie says, this grin on his face that Buck can’t look away from because he hasn’t seen it in months—ever since Christopher left. “Cap’s already approved mine and Buck’s time off.” Buck never actually put in for time off—Bobby just kind of offered it. When Buck asked what it was for, Bobby simply raised an eyebrow at him and said—you’re going with Eddie to pick up Christopher, aren’t you? “We’ll probably be there early Saturday.”
“Okay.” Christopher answers brightly. “That’s enough time for me to pack. Hey—do you think we can stop by the Grand Canyon?”
“That’s not really on the way, Bud.” Eddie says, just as Buck says—“Oh, definitely!”
Eddie rolls his eyes and Buck grins because he already knows they’re going to spend Sunday night in a hotel in Arizona and Buck will send Bobby a picture from the skywalk and Bobby will respond back should I expect you two not to be back tomorrow? and Buck will say sorry, see you on Tuesday bright and early, thanks! and Bobby will probably roll his eyes, but selfishly, maybe and also a bit hopefully, Buck thinks he’ll just be happy for them—the three of them.
“Awesome!” Christopher says. “Oh—dinner’s almost ready.”
“That’s fine.” Eddie nods. “We should—uh, we should head out too.”
Buck doesn’t think they’re actually going anywhere, but he thinks Eddie’s probably used to making up an excuse whenever Christopher hangs up the phone.
“See you in a few days.” Their—Eddie’s kid—says. “Love you, Dad.”
Eddie freezes. “I—I love you too, Bud.”
“Love you, Buck.”
Buck freezes. “Uh—love you, Chris.”
The tablet goes blank and the two of them stare at it for a moment. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Eddie sets it on the coffee table and turns toward Buck. “Uh—beer?”
“Sure.” Buck nods.
Eddie heads into the kitchen and comes back with two beers and Buck thinks about—well, the last time they did this, Tommy dumped him and he backed out of Eddie’s house with some lame excuse about why he couldn’t stay and make snickerdoodles in his best friend’s kitchen. But—Eddie’s not moving anymore.
And Buck’s tired of running.
“I was avoiding you.” Buck says, uncapping his beer.
Eddie raises an eyebrow. “No shit.”
“You—you flipped the tablet.” He says, even though that wasn’t what he meant. But—it’s the piece of the puzzle, the part of that day—it’s been engraved in his mind ever since. And yeah, that sounds stupid now because Eddie’s not moving and it’s like—let bygones be bygones or whatever. But he needs the answer. “That day—you told me you were looking for houses in El Paso.”
“Yeah.” Eddie says, a bit confused. “I’m—not anymore. Christopher’s coming home. Weren’t you just here for that conversation? Friday night.”
Buck cracks a faint smile. “I’m trying to figure out why.”
“Why?” Eddie asks.
“You didn’t want me to know.” Buck clarifies. “You—you had no problem telling Bobby you were going to miss him.”
Eddie avoids his eyes. “I—would have missed Cap.”
“That’s not—” Buck sighs, frustrated. “Okay—how about the team? You told them at a dinner that I wasn’t even a part of.”
“Because you were avoiding me.”
“Because I couldn’t—” He takes a long gulp of his beer and tries to get his bearings. Well—if he’s going to blow up his life, at least Eddie will still be around to punish him for it. “Because I couldn’t handle the idea of you leaving me behind.”
“What—” Eddie furrows his eyebrows. “Buck, I would never leave you behind.”
That’s what everybody always says. They won’t—they won’t leave him. He’s—he’s changed their lives and they’re better for knowing him and they’ll—he’ll break their heart, even though he thinks he would let Eddie break his heart over and over and over again and he would come back for more because, well, he’s crazy, maybe, and he doesn’t know how to be alone, but also—
He thinks it would be the greatest privilege of his life to be loved by Eddie Diaz.
“Would you have told me?” Buck asks, a bit hurt, a bit reserved. And—yeah, he’s certain he would have, because Eddie’s not a monster and he wouldn’t make Buck find out because Bobby had hired somebody to take his place, but— “Would you have told me before everybody else?”
And that’s—that’s how he knows.
Because Eddie hesitates.
And maybe it shouldn’t matter as much as it does because Eddie would’ve told him. Maybe on his last day of work while they were throwing him a goodbye party or maybe—maybe on his way out of town like Hen and Chim. But—Eddie would have told him. Unless he heard it through the stupid rumor mill of a grapevine of their work.
What would have happened then?
“I don’t know.” Eddie admits. “I would have probably told Cap first.”
That makes sense. Bobby would have to file paperwork and transfer Eddie to El Paso and then hire somebody to take his place. That somebody would probably be Buck’s new partner, and Buck’s as stubborn as they come so he of course he would hate them because he’d hate anybody who doesn’t live up to the standard of Eddie Diaz, new recruit.
“It doesn’t matter.” Eddie says.
“Do you think I would have survived without you?” Buck says, and he doesn’t know if the question is meant to be rhetorical or not. He doesn’t know if he means physically or not. If this hypothetical new guy that Bobby hires is an idiot and only tugs on Buck’s harness six times instead of the typical seven that Eddie does—would that kill him? If Buck’s reckless because he’s missing Eddie and he makes a misstep that costs somebody on his team their life—would that kill him? If the science is real and you can die from a broken heart—would that kill him?
“Jesus, Buck.” Eddie snaps back at him. “Do you think I would’ve been able to breathe right if I’d let myself think about leaving you? I—I was half-tempted to ask you to come with me. But then I thought—no, his family’s here, he needs to be here. And I told myself it was the right decision for Christopher—but do you know how much power you have over me that I—that I almost would’ve considered staying for you?”
Buck shakes his head. “I wouldn’t have let you.”
“I know.” Eddie responds.
“I would have come with you.” Buck says.
Eddie shakes his head. “I wouldn’t have let you.”
“I—I would never ask you to pick me over your kid, Eddie.” He says with a bit of a tragic smile. “I hate that it was even a thought that crossed my mind. I love Christopher. And I’ve missed him so much since he’s been away. And—I didn’t want to tell you because it felt—unfair. I know he’s not mine—”
“He is.”
Buck blinks. “What?”
“Of course he is.” Eddie says—like Buck’s an idiot for thinking any differently. “Buck, no one has ever shown up for my kid the way you have—not even his Mom. And—I’m past the point of blame for that. I just mean—honestly, probably more than me sometimes. You would have never done to him what I did.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” Eddie says, and he sounds sure.
Buck shakes his head and takes another sip of his beer. “I don’t know what you want me to do with all of that, Eddie. You—you tell me it’s too hard to tell me you’re leaving and then you tell me you wanted to ask me to come with you and then—you just told me your kid is mine.”
“All true.”
“Do you know how many ways that sounds like—” Buck trails off, his chest rising and falling with every heartbeat. “You can’t tell me I love you in so many ways and not expect me to not say it back to—”
“Fine.” Eddie says. “I love you.”
And Buck—he just—gapes like a fish. It’s entirely unromantic, actually. The way he sits there and stares at Eddie with his mouth open. He kind of thought he’d be better in this scenario. He imagined it a hundred different ways. None of which ended with him being a pseudo-father and Eddie telling him he loved him first.
And yet—it’s his favorite.
“I don’t understand.” He says. “Are you sure?”
Eddie rolls his eyes and sets his beer on the table. “Are you serious?”
“I just want to know—”
He’s cut off by the feel of Eddie’s lips on his. Again—it’s entirely unromantic. His mouth is parted and it takes him a solid three seconds to react and he doesn’t remember what he ate for lunch so if Eddie tastes garlic and never wants to kiss him again, that’s—well, he’ll have to live with it.
But—it’s also so perfectly them. It’s how they’ve always been. A bit clumsy. A bit—attached at the hip, the lips, whatever, it’s all the same. Buck kind of wonders why they didn’t skip all the breakups with other people and do this with each other sooner. Maybe he should have kissed Eddie that first day in the locker room when Eddie asked what’s your problem, man? and Buck would have surged forward and pressed their lips together.
What would it have mattered if Eddie rejected him anyway? He hated the guy.
“I love you.” Buck says.
The words feel right on his tongue. Like—like they didn’t mean something until right now. Maybe they didn’t. Buck thinks Eddie has a way of making pieces of him come to life that maybe wouldn’t have otherwise.
“You should move.” Eddie says, pulling away from Buck.
Buck blinks back at him. “Huh?”
“In.” Eddie says. “With me.”
Buck pauses. “That never works out well for me.”
“Well—you’re not the one asking this time.” Eddie tells him. “And—since I’m not a news reporter and I’m fairly positive you won’t break my heart—I don’t think we have to worry. Besides—I was willing to take you all the way to El Paso, Buckley.”
“Okay.” Buck says.
Eddie smiles. “Really?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “But—only on one condition.”
“Okay?” Eddie raises an eyebrow.
“Just in case we’re ever in a fight—” Buck says. “I want the couch.”