Archive of Our Own

The reception hall was full and bright. Music from the DJ, clinking glasses, a steady rise and fall of voices. The dance floor in the center shifted with moving bodies and the soft shimmer of dress fabric. Servers wove through table legs with practiced steps, balancing trays and empty plates.

Buck stood just off the edge of the dance floor with Eddie at his side and watched their son.

Chris and Emily moved slowly to the music. His forearm crutches rested against a reserved chair nearby, within easy reach. Emily’s hand sat on his shoulder, fingers relaxed against the dark fabric of his suit. Their other hands were linked between them. They were talking, heads tipped close enough that no one else could hear, and every few seconds Emily’s mouth curved in an easy smile. Chris’s face was open and joyful in a way Buck never got tired of seeing.

Buck shifted his weight a little. Pain pulsed along his left leg in an even rhythm. Today it felt sharp around the knee and dull down the calf, the pattern that usually followed too much standing and not enough stretching. He ignored it for the moment.

“Your face,” Eddie said, voice low.

Buck snorted without looking at him. “What about it?”

“You’ve got the proud and confused thing going,” Eddie answered. “Like you’re not sure how we got from algebra homework at the kitchen table to a wedding.”

“That is exactly what happened,” Buck replied. “I blinked and he’s grown.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said quietly. “Me too.”

Eddie stood in his dress uniform. The jacket lay neat across his shoulders, the brass and silver catching bits of light whenever he shifted. His hair had gone gray at the temples over the last few years. The lines at the corners of his eyes had deepened. Buck knew every one of those lines and what had put them there.

Eddie glanced down at Buck’s leg, then up again. “You holding up?”

Buck exhaled slowly. “It hurts.”

“Then we can sit,” Eddie said. “You’ve seen him dance. We can see him dance again later. He lives here now, remember?”

Buck rolled his eyes. “Thanks. I forgot where our kid lives.”

“You forget plenty of things my dear husband,” Eddie said. “Where you left your glasses. What day it is. The fact that we’re not twenty-five anymore.”

Buck bumped his shoulder against Eddie’s. “I’m not sitting until the song ends.”

Eddie did not argue. He slid his hand along the small of Buck’s back, steady and warm through the fabric of his suit jacket. They stood there together until the song faded into the next one and the applause rose up.

The DJ thanked everyone for the first round of dancing and called out instructions for the next part of the program. Guests began drifting back to their tables. Chris reached for his forearm crutches and slipped his arms into the cuffs. Emily stood at his side while he checked his footing.

Eddie nodded toward their table. “Come on, before Hen notices you’re trying to be stubborn and starts a lecture.”

“She already gave me one when we got here,” Buck said. “I’m on her list.”

“You’ve always been on her list.”

They stepped away from the dance floor. Buck reached for his cane, which leaned against a decorative column nearby, and curled his fingers around the handle. The cane took some of the pressure off his leg as they crossed the room. It was a small relief, but it counted.

Their table sat where the view of the dance floor was clear and there was enough space for people to come and go. Hen and Karen sat on one side. Chim and Maddie sat on the other. Ravi and May filled the remaining chairs, leaving two open spots that Buck and Eddie now took.

Hen’s chair was turned slightly so she could see the whole room. She had one hand wrapped around a glass of water and the other resting on the back of the chair of the grandchild beside her. Karen had taken responsibility for the bread basket and was breaking a roll in half with calm precision.

Chim’s tie was already loosened. Maddie’s shoes were off under the table, her bare toes bending against the rug every so often.

Ravi sat with his jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled up just enough to look casual but not enough to get scolded by May. May’s campaign pin sat on the table next to her clutch, where it could not reflect the light in photos.

“You two finally detached from the dance floor,” Chim remarked as Eddie settled into his chair. “I was about to send a medic team.”

“I am a medic team,” Hen said.

“Former medic team,” he corrected.

Hen raised an eyebrow. “I still write your paramedics’ protocols, Howard. Respect your elders.”

Maddie covered a smile behind her hand. “Play nice.”

Buck eased down into his chair and slid his leg forward under the table. The immediate drop in pressure made his shoulders loosen. He let out a breath he had not realized he was holding.

“You good?” Eddie asked quietly.

Buck tipped his head. “Better.”

Hen’s attention flicked to his leg, then back to his face. She did not say anything, just gave a brief nod. She had been tracking his pain levels for years.

On a table across the room, against one wall, stood the memorial display. Everyone that couldn’t be there as Eddie and Buck watched Chris get married. It had a white cloth, a simple arrangement of flowers, and several framed photos. Eddie’s abuela stood in one, her hands on a kitchen counter, looking like she had just turned from the stove to tell someone to sit down and eat. In another, Tía Pepa smiled with her arm around a young Eddie. Bobby appeared in two photos, one in captain’s uniform, one in a T-shirt at a station barbecue. Athena’s patrol uniform filled another frame, her posture straight, her mouth relaxed in a rare soft expression. Shannon looked out from a photo where she had Chris in her lap and a tired smile on her face, his small hand gripping her shirt.

Small candles burned in front of the pictures, the flames steady.

Buck’s gaze lingered there. Each face had been a pillar through different years of their lives. The empty space where those people should have been tonight sat heavy and familiar.

Eddie followed his line of sight.

“Abuela would be telling us we didn’t feed people enough,” he said quietly. “She always said you could tell the love a couple had for each other by the food at their wedding.”

“Pepa would be in the kitchen with the caterers,” Buck added. “Trying to take over.”

“Bobby would be checking plates,” Hen said. “He always counted the plates at events. Said it helped him keep track of people.”

“Athena would be on security detail,” May said, voice warm. “She would know every exit and exactly which cousin was going to sneak out to smoke.”

Buck swallowed. His chest felt tight in a way he recognized. Grief had changed shape over the last year. It was part of the air now. It sat alongside joy at the same table.

“They’d be proud of him,” Buck said.

“They are,” Eddie answered, steady.

No one argued.

The sound around them grew again as more people came back to their seats. A loud burst of laughter came from the next table where their girls Ella and Ava sat with their fiancés Kai and Ronan and a cluster of cousins.

Ella had her hair braided back off her face, a neat style that made her look even more like Eddie when she frowned. Her fiancé Kai leaned in close, listening to whatever she was saying with focused attention. On the other side of the table, Ava had her curls loose around her shoulders looking so much like Sophia. She gestured with both hands as she told a story, Ronan grinning wide beside her like he had already heard it ten times and still liked it.

At another table, Denny sat with his arm draped over the back of his chair, talking with his girlfriend Charlie. Charlie’s long dark curls were clipped up with a few tendrils framing her face, a small star-shaped pin catching the light. Denny had already shown several guests photos from their most recent conservation trip, including a series of dolphins that had made his voice go animated and bright.

Near them, Mara and her girlfriend Lily shared a plate of dessert. Lily brushed crumbs off Mara’s chin with an easy swipe of her thumb. Mara swatted her hand away with a quiet laugh and then leaned in for another bite.

Jee-Yun moved around the room, talking with her brother Daniel and a group of people from dispatch and the hospital. She wore a dark dress and low heels, her posture straight and confident. Daniel’s tie was slightly crooked, as usual.

Buck let the noise and faces wash over him. This was what Bobby always said the job was for: getting everyone home to nights like this.

“Anybody need anything from the bar?” Jee called as she passed the 118 table.

“Water,” Maddie called back. “And maybe cake.”

“You already had cake,” Chim said.

Maddie tilted her head. “I want more cake.”

“You can have more cake,” Jee told her. “You just need water to go with it. We have standards.”

“Water, then cake,” Hen said. “Hydration first.”

Chim sighed. “I live in a house full of medics and dispatchers. I have no power.”

“You never had power,” Buck said.

Jee grinned, squeezed her mom’s shoulder on her way by, and disappeared toward the bar.

“Campaign-free zone still holding, Madam Governor?” Chim asked May.

May rolled her eyes. “Do not call me that.”

“You are running for Governor,” Ravi said. “You are allowed a title.”

“Not that one. Yet,” she answered. “And yes. I gave my staff a full schedule for tonight. If the state catches fire, they can call me. Otherwise, they can live without me for a few hours.”

Ravi glanced over at May, a little smile tugging at his mouth. “You know half this room is going to say they knew the future Governor of California back when she was answering 9-1-1 calls, right?”

May huffed out a breath. “If I win,” she said. “It’s still an if.”

Her eyes slid toward the memorial table. She went quiet for a moment, watching the candles, the photos of Bobby and Athena side by side.

“I just…” Her voice softened. “I wish they were here to see it. All of this. Chris getting married. Me getting this far. Even just the possibility.”

Buck followed her gaze. “They see it,” he said. “They’d be bragging already. You know Bobby would have a scrapbook. Athena would have threatened at least three reporters.”

The corners of May’s mouth lifted. “You think so?”

Eddie nodded. “They were proud of you long before you ran for anything. This?” He tipped his head toward her. “This is just more proof they were right about you.”

Movement at the edge of the dance floor caught Buck’s eye again. Chris and Emily were making their way through small clusters of guests. Chris had his crutches under his arms now, his steps steady. When an older relative tried to help without asking, Emily gently redirected them, her tone kind but firm. Chris shot her a grateful look.

Buck felt something settle inside his chest at that exchange. Emily understood what support looked like for Chris, not as a guest performance but as a daily practice. That mattered.

Ella appeared at Buck’s side without warning, sliding into the open space between his chair and Eddie’s.

“Dad. Papa.” She leaned an elbow on the back of Buck’s chair. “You’re both sitting. Good. We need to conduct official business.”

Eddie squinted at her. “Is this wedding official or Diaz official?”

“Both. Mostly Diaz official,” she said. “Of the highest order.”

Kai hovered behind her, hands in his pockets, eyes amused. “I tried to talk her out of invading during dinner,” he said. “I failed.”

Ava came around the other side with Ronan in tow. Ronan held two empty glasses and looked like he was trying to figure out where to put them.

“We’re not interrupting, right?” Ava asked. “Because if we are, too bad. We have a schedule.”

“You sound like your Aunt Maddie,” Hen said.

“Don’t drag me into this,” Maddie replied.

“We need Emily,” Ella said. “And we thought you should know before we steal her.”

“Steal your brand-new sister-in-law from her own wedding?” Buck asked.

Ava gave him a look. “We are borrowing her for five minutes to do something nice. You love nice things.”

“He does,” Eddie agreed. “He cries at commercials now.”

“That was once,” Buck objected.

“It was twice,” Eddie said.

Kai leaned in. “I’ve seen it once at least.”

“Traitor,” Buck muttered to his future son-in-law.

“Where is Emily now?” Ava scanned the room.

Emily stood with Mara and Lily near the edge of the dance floor. Lily was saying something that made both of them laugh. Chris talked with Denny and Charlie a few steps away.

“We’re going now,” Ella said. She patted Buck’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll bring her back in one piece.”

“Please don’t scare her,” Eddie said. “We don’t need another epic Buckley-Diaz sibling fight. Especially today.”

Ava lifted her hand, palm out. “We promised Chris we would behave.”

“That does not comfort me,” Buck told her.

They grinned at him and then headed off. Kai and Ronan followed, both of them giving Buck and Eddie the same small, reassuring smile as they passed, the kind that said they had learned to roll with the Diaz-Buckley energy.

Hen watched them weave through the crowd. “They have a mission.”

“They always do,” Eddie said. “It’s just a matter of what will be left standing when it’s done.”

“What do you think they’re doing?” Chim asked.

“Something sentimental,” Maddie guessed. “Ella was whispering to Tía Pepa last time we visited her grave. I saw her leave flowers.”

Eddie’s brows pulled together. “What did they… oh.”

He fell quiet as understanding hit, then glanced toward the memorial table. One of the photos of Pepa showed her wearing a necklace on a thin chain, the same one she wore in almost every picture taken at family celebrations.

Buck’s heart gave a small jump. “The necklace,” he said.

Pepa had worn that necklace for decades. It had belonged to Eddie’s grandmother before her, and the story was that every Diaz woman wore it on their wedding day. After Pepa’s death, the necklace had gone to Eddie. She made it very clear in her will that it would then go to “the next Diaz women”.

They had not expected twins. She had left instructions for Ella and Ava to share it and sort out who wore it at which wedding, telling them to use their judgment and their love for each other.

Apparently, they had found their own answer.

Across the room, Ella reached Emily. She touched her arm gently to get her attention and said something Buck could not hear. Emily’s eyes widened in obvious confusion, then curiosity, as the twins guided her to a quieter corner near one of the windows.

Kai stopped a little ways back with Ronan. They stayed within view, but they gave the three women space.

Emily stood there in her wedding dress, hair pinned back with simple clips, a few whisps of hair loose near her neck. She looked nervous for the first time all day.

Ava reached into the small bag hanging from her wrist and took out a small box. She opened it and held it out to Emily.

Even from across the room, Buck recognized the necklace inside. The metal caught the light. It was not flashy, just a slim chain and a small pendant that sat near the throat when worn. He had seen it in old family photos on Abuela, on Pepa, on Sophia and Adri at their weddings. He had seen it in person a hundred times around Pepa’s neck at family gatherings, moving whenever she talked with her hands.

Emily’s hand flew to her mouth. Her shoulders shook once, and then she dropped her hand and said something quickly, eyes shiny.

Ella spoke next, steady and serious. She picked up the necklace, pressed it into Emily’s hand, and closed Emily’s fingers around it. Emily shook her head in protest, then stopped when both twins covered her hands with theirs.

They talked for another minute. Eva said something that made Emily let out a small, choked laugh. Emily nodded once, then again. She lifted the necklace with careful fingers and studied it, her thumb brushing over the pendant.

She glanced toward the memorial table, then toward Buck and Eddie. Her gaze met Eddie’s first. He gave her a slow, sure nod. Buck lifted his glass in quiet approval.

Emily’s expression softened. She turned back to the twins and held the necklace out to Ella, lips moving in words the rest of the room could not hear. Ella’s face brightened. She nodded, stepped behind Emily, and fastened the clasp with careful hands. When she finished, Emily reached back to squeeze her fingers, then turned and pulled both twins into a tight hug, their shoulders pressed together and arms wrapped around each other.

Lily walked past them with Mara, noticed the huddle, and smiled. She tugged gently on Mara’s hand and steered her to give them privacy.

“They gave it to her,” Eddie murmured.
Buck kept his eyes on Emily. “She’s family now.”

“This is the Diaz version of signing the paperwork,” Hen observed, watching them.

Eddie’s mouth pulled into a small, steady line. Pride sat there, and love, and something that looked a lot like relief.

A tug at Hen’s sleeve pulled the focus back to the table. One of Ravi and May’s kids had climbed into the empty chair between Hen and Karen and planted both elbows on the tabletop with complete confidence.

“Aunt Hen, Dad says you have to tell us a story about Uncle Chris.”

Hen blinked. “Does he now?”

Ravi lifted his hands from down the table, guilty. “I might have suggested it.”

“Only appropriate stories,” May said. “Wedding rules.”

“Those are my worst ones,” Chim complained.

“You mean your best ones,” Buck corrected.

The kid turned toward Buck with big eyes. “How long have you known Uncle Chris?”

Buck looked toward the dance floor. Chris was back near the center, leaning lightly on one crutch now, talking with Daniel and Charlie. Emily returned from her corner, the Diaz necklace now fastened around her neck, pendant resting just above the neckline of her dress. Ella and Ava walked on either side of her, both looking pleased with themselves.

“Since he was nine,” Buck answered. “He came to the station with Eddie. He did his homework on the table in the kitchen while Bobby cooked dinner.”

The kid’s eyes widened. “You all ate dinner at the fire station?”

“Pretty often,” Hen said. “We had a whole extra family there.”

“Tell the homework story,” Karen suggested. She put a roll on the kid’s plate. “With the math. That one’s safe.”

Buck groaned. “Of course.”

The kid straightened with excitement. “Yes. Start with that one.”

The whole table shifted in, chairs angled closer. Ravi rested his chin on his hand. May’s campaign pin sat forgotten beside her clutch. Maddie tucked one foot under her leg. Chim folded his arms on the table. Hen kept her hand on the kid’s back, thumb moving in a slow circle. Eddie’s knee pressed against Buck’s under the table, a steady point of contact.

Buck took a breath and let the present blur just enough to bring the past into focus.

“Okay,” he said. “So. It started with Chris and a math worksheet at the station…”

The room around them stayed busy and loud. Right there, at that table, everything narrowed to shared history and the people who knew it best.

“The math worksheet,” Buck began, “was evil.”

The kid between Hen and Karen gasped. “Uncle Chris had evil homework?”

Hen tapped their plate with her fork. “Eat your roll. Let him talk.”

Buck took a sip of water, set the glass down, and leaned his forearms on the table. The movement pulled at the muscles in his leg. It was a small ache, tolerable. He shifted until it eased.

“He was at the station,” Buck went on. “Nine years old, elbows on the kitchen table at the 118. Bobby was cooking. I was trying to be helpful.”

“You were trying to impress him,” Chim put in.

“I am telling the story,” Buck replied.

The kid giggled.

“Chris had this page covered in fractions,” Buck said. “He stared at it for ten minutes without moving his pencil. So I sat next to him and said, ‘Hey, I can help. I’m good at math.’”

Eddie made a soft snort.

“I heard that,” Buck told him.

“You were not good at fractions,” Eddie replied.

“No,” Buck agreed. “I was not. But I thought I could figure it out. I started explaining it the way I remembered. Chris listened. He trusted me. That was the problem.”

“He trusted you before he saw your actual work,” Hen said.

Buck shook his head, smiling at the memory. “We got halfway through the page. Bobby turned around from the stove and took one look at what we were doing. He did not yell. He did not say anything at first. He just picked up the pencil, erased three lines, and started from the beginning.”

“Bobby sat down and gave a whole lesson,” Karen added. “He did it step by step. Chris followed every number.”

“The part you’re leaving out,” Eddie said, “is that Bobby gave you the same lesson. Then he made you redo your own fractions on a spare sheet of paper so you could practice.”

The kid leaned toward Buck. “Did you get them right?”

“Eventually,” Buck answered. “But Chris understood it faster than me. He always did. Bobby kept checking in on him that year. Not just about school. About how he was doing. If anything hurt. If the chair was okay.”

“He always asked about the chair,” Eddie said softly. “If it was the right height. If the cushion was enough. He never assumed.”

The kid glanced toward the dance floor, where Chris and Emily had joined another group. Chris had one crutch under his arm, the other resting nearby, his stance steady.

“Did he always use those?” they asked, nodding toward the crutches.

“Yeah,” Hen answered. “Pretty much as soon as he was big enough to handle them safely.”

“He loved them,” Eddie said. “He said they felt like his. They gave him independence. He never really wanted anything else.”

“He used to line them up perfectly by the door,” Buck added. “If anyone touched them, he’d know. He still does that.”

Emily smiled. “He made me learn his system when we moved in together. I am not allowed to lean them against ‘unstable surfaces.’ His words.”

“Good,” Hen said. “He should be picky.”

The kid’s eyes were wide. “Do his legs still hurt?”

“Sometimes,” Hen said. “But he knows his body very well. He always has.”

“We had rules,” Eddie said. “He could push himself, but he had to tell us when he hit the line. We had backup plans.”

“And snacks,” Buck said. “Many snacks.”

“That part tracks,” Ravi murmured.

Emily appeared fully at the edge of the table now, fingers brushing the new necklace at her throat. Ella and Ava flanked her like a personal escort. Kai and Ronan trailed behind, carrying extra water glasses.

“Are we interrupting?” Emily asked.

“No,” Hen said. “We’re educating the youth.”

“We’re talking about fractions,” the kid reported.

Emily pulled out an empty chair and sat between Buck and Ella. “Oh dear,” she said. “Who gave Buck math responsibilities?”

“Excuse you,” Buck said. “I improved.”

“I saw your help with the wedding budget,” Emily replied. “I’m aware.”

Eddie covered his mouth with his hand to hide a smile.

“Tell her the cereal bowl story,” the kid urged.

“I heard enough of it on the other side,” Emily said. “Your dads are very proud of that bowl.”

“They should be,” Hen said. “It was a big day.”

Emily’s hand drifted to the pendant again. “We had a big day today too,” she said, voice quieter.

Ava nudged her shoulder. “Good big day.”

“Very good,” Ella agreed.

Buck took a moment to look at the three of them together. His daughters sat close, their shoulders nearly touching Emily’s. The necklace rested at the hollow of Emily’s throat. It belonged there.

“Do you want a story next?” the kid asked Emily. “You can pick.”

Emily blinked. “I get to pick?”

“Yeah,” they said. “It’s your wedding.”

“That is sound logic,” Karen said.

“All right,” Emily said, thinking. “I want to hear about the day Buck and Eddie got married.”

“Of course,” Chim groaned. “You pick the one that makes them both cry.”

“We are not crying,” Eddie said.

“You already cried,” Ravi reminded him. “During the ceremony.”

“You also cried at the rehearsal dinner,” Hen told Ravi.

“That is because May gave a speech,” Ravi argued.

May touched his arm with a small smile. “You’re all allowed to cry. It’s fine.”

“Who tells this one?” Buck asked. “We were busy.”

“I’ve been waiting years for someone to ask me to tell it,” Hen said.

Murmurs went around the table. No one challenged her.

“Okay,” Hen said. She rested her elbows on the table, meeting Emily’s eyes first. “They decided to make it legal at a courthouse. Simple plan. Small group. Very calm.”

“And then?” Emily asked, her attention fully hooked.

“They told exactly one person,” Hen said. “Bobby. Because he was going to be there to sign paperwork and to make sure they ate breakfast first.”

“Breakfast is important,” Maddie said.

“Yes,” Hen agreed. “Bobby told Athena. Athena told us. We told other people. By the time Buck and Eddie got to the courthouse, there was a line of friends and family outside the door. With food. And cameras. And a cake that said ‘Finally.’”

“That was you,” Buck said to Chim.

Chim lifted his chin. “You’re welcome.”

“They had no idea it would be that big,” Hen continued. “But when they saw everyone, they both stopped at the bottom of the steps. I was right behind them. I could feel them both shaking.”

Eddie shifted in his seat. “I wasn’t shaking.”

“You were absolutely shaking,” Hen said. “Bobby went ahead and started talking to the clerk so they couldn’t change their minds. Athena came down the steps and looked at them both. She said, ‘You two have been doing vows for years. This is just paperwork.’”

Emily smiled. “That sounded like her.”

“She was right,” Eddie said quietly. “We were already us.”

“Chris was the best man,” Buck added. “He held the rings. He kept checking his pocket every thirty seconds.”

“He glared at anyone who came within five feet of you both,” Karen said. “He took the job very seriously.”

“He still does,” Emily said.

“That was the day we took the first big official photo of everyone,” Hen said. “Chris in the middle. Buck and Eddie on either side. Bobby and Athena behind them. The rest of us around them.”

“We had to get the photographer to do two angles,” Chim said. “So everyone could see my good side.”

“You do not have a bad side,” Maddie told him.

He sat up a little straighter, chest puffed out a bit.

The kid chewed on their roll, eyes bright. “Did you have cake?”

“Yes,” Buck said. “We had cake. The one that said ‘Finally.’ Athena laughed so hard at it she had to sit down.”

“And after that,” Hen said, “they went home and pretended life was the same as before. Except now when forms said ‘emergency contact,’ they both wrote each other’s names and smiled about it for three days.”

“They still do,” Emily said. She looked between them. “They still get that look when they fill out forms.”

Buck lifted a shoulder. “Forms are romantic.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Eddie said.

Emily tilted her head. “So when did Ella and Ava join the party?”

“That one is easy,” Chim said. “It starts with a lab and way too many appointments.”

Maddie put a gentle hand on his arm. “We can skip the lab details.”

“Please,” Ava said.

“There were a lot of forms again,” Buck said. “Your Aunt Sophia offered her eggs so they would have both Buckley and Diaz genes. We talked about it for months. We talked to Chris. We talked to Hen. We talked to Bobby. We talked to everyone.”

“And then we did it,” Eddie said. “We picked a clinic and a surrogate. We followed their instructions. Carefully.”

“Bobby drove us to one of the appointments,” Buck remembered. “He waited in the lobby. When we came out, he hugged us so hard my ribs hurt.”

“He made a whole folder for you,” Maddie said. “Color-coded. I still have a picture of it.”

“On the day of the transfer,” Buck said, “Pepa wore the necklace. She said she wanted to be there with the future Diaz women. Even if they were the size of a speck.”

Emily’s fingers brushed the pendant again at that.

“Months later,” Eddie added, “we were sitting in a hospital room. Two bassinets. Two babies screaming at the same time. Chris standing between them looking stressed.”

“He kept asking how many diapers they would need,” Hen said. “He wanted a number.”

“There was not a number,” Buck said. “There was only ‘more.’”

Ella laughed. “You told us that story when we were eight.”

“You left out how much you cried,” Ava added.

“I did not cry that much,” Buck said.

“You cried plenty,” Eddie replied. “You cried when they checked your names on their bracelets. You cried when Chris held them. You cried when Pepa walked in and called them her girls.”

Buck opened his mouth to protest, then stopped. “Fine. I cried. It was a big day.”

“It was,” Karen agreed.

The kid leaned back in their chair, overwhelmed and delighted. “Uncle Chris had a lot happen.”

“That was just the first ten years,” Ravi said.

“Enough about us,” Buck told him. “Tell them about you. You robbed us of our probie and then stole our dispatcher.”

Ravi grinned. “I did no such thing. She came willingly.”

“That is not how I remember it,” May said. “You showed up at the call center with coffee and a very hopeful face.”

“You did bring good coffee,” Hen said. “I remember that.”

May shook her head, amused. “I was ready for something new. City council needed voices who understood emergency services. Dispatch taught me how systems fall apart. You all taught me what happens when they do.”

“And now you’re going to run the whole state,” Chim said. “No pressure.”

“There is always pressure,” May said. “I would rather be under it and doing something useful than watching someone else ignore it.”

“Spoken like a leader,” Karen said.

Ravi watched her with a soft expression. “She says that, but I still remember the first time she answered a 9-1-1 call on her own. I was more nervous than she was.”

“You paced,” Hen remembered.

Ravi nodded. “I did. I wore a path in the carpet. Now she runs whole meetings with people who make five times my salary and does not blink.”

“They should be nervous around her,” Buck said.

“They are,” May replied. “It helps.”

Daniel wandered back toward their table, his friends paused a few feet behind as they picked up new drinks. He rested a hand on the back of Maddie’s chair.

“What are we on now?” he asked. “Embarrassing story round three?”

“Career highlights,” Hen said. “You’re next.”

Daniel flushed lightly. “Please no.”

“Too late,” Chim replied. “We already bragged about you.”

Maddie reached up to squeeze Daniel’s fingers. “We told them you scare your attendings because you’re so calm.”

“I do not scare anyone,” Daniel objected.

“You walk into rooms with very sick kids and make them laugh,” Hen said. “That counts.”

Daniel looked down at his shoes. “That’s just part of the job.”

“Not everyone can do it,” Buck said. “We’re proud of you.”

Daniel gave them a small, grateful smile. “Thanks Uncle Buck.”

“Where’s your sister?” Hen asked.

“Probably checking on Lily and Mara,” Daniel said. He nodded toward the far side of the room. “They were negotiating over dessert.”

On the other side of the hall, Mara and Lily stood near the dessert table. Lily held a plate with two slices of cake. Mara had a hand on her hip, arguing about icing ratios. Their voices did not carry, but their gestures did, animated and familiar.

“Speaking of jobs,” Denny said, reappearing with Charlie at his side. “Did we reach the part where I get credit for living on boats and not drowning?”

Charlie snorted. “He spent last month on a research vessel. He would have floated anyway.”

Denny took the empty chair on the other side of Karen. Charlie stood behind him, fingers in his hair.

“I told them you talk about dolphins in your sleep,” Karen said.

“That is slander,” Denny replied. “I talk about ecosystems.”

“Ecosystems with dolphins in them,” Charlie said.

Denny’s grin gave him away.

The stories swirled around the table. Small moments, big days, long shifts, graduations, elections, moves. The kids chimed in with their own versions now, not just listening but adding memories. Buck sat back for a moment and let the sound sit around him.

His leg throbbed again, the ache climbing higher into his hip. Too much sitting in one position. He shifted, straightened it, then bent it. Nothing fully stopped the pain. It was part of the background now. Eddie’s hand landed briefly on his knee under the table, a quiet check-in. Buck gave him a small nod.

Across from him, Chim rubbed at his temple with two fingers. The lights and the noise were clearly pressing against the fragile edges of his tolerance.

Hen noticed and reached into her bag. She slid a small pill bottle and a water glass toward him.

“You timing out?” she asked.

“A little,” Chim admitted. “Migraine’s starting to tap on the door.”

“Take it now,” she said. “Before it kicks it in.”

Chim unscrewed the cap and shook out a tablet. “You’re all very dramatic,” he muttered, but he downed the pill and chased it with water.

Maddie adjusted his chair so he faced away from the brightest lights. “You want to step outside for a bit?”

“Not yet,” he answered. “I want to hear the rest of the stories.”

“You already know the stories,” Buck said.

“I like hearing them again,” Chim replied. “And this time we get Emily’s reactions.”

Emily smiled. “I love them. Even the ones about paperwork.”

“Especially those,” Hen said. “They prove growth.”

Emily glanced toward Chris on the dance floor. He was joking with Ella and Ava now, his crutches resting nearby, his shoulders relaxed. Their daughters leaned in, laughing. Kai and Ronan stood close, both clearly part of the inner circle now.

“When I first met all of you,” Emily said slowly, “I thought I would never catch up. You had all these years together. All these calls and holidays and stories. I worried there would always be parts I couldn’t reach.”

“You reached plenty,” Eddie told her.

“You fit right in,” Buck added.

“The first dinner,” Emily said, “when I came over to your house and everyone was there? Ella and Ava grilled me about my favorite movies. Denny asked about my job. Mara wanted to know if my schedule could handle Buckley-Diaz chaos. Chris hovered near the kitchen in case I needed rescue.”

“That sounds right,” Ella said.

“And then Abuela told me to sit at the table, handed me a plate, and said, ‘If you’re eating here, you’re family. The rest catches up.’” Emily’s eyes softened at the memory. “I held onto that.”

“She liked you,” Eddie said. “So did Pepa.”

“I was scared of Pepa at first,” Emily admitted. “She had very strong opinions.”

“She scared me too,” Buck said. “You get used to it.”

“When she died,” Emily went on, “I thought that was it for that connection. For that side of it. The Diaz women chain.”

She touched the necklace again, fingertips brushing the pendant. “Then today, Ella and Ava pulled me aside and handed this to me. They told me Pepa wanted it passed to the next Diaz bride. They said they wanted me to have it before their own weddings. I still don’t have words for that.”

“We meant what we said,” Ella told her. “You’re our sister. We wanted you to have it today. Our days will come.”

Emily looked between them, then around the table. “I believe you now,” she said. “About me being part of this. Not just visiting.”

“You were never visiting,” Hen said. “You walked in and stayed. That counts.”

Buck felt his chest pull tight again. Not with grief this time. With something steady and full.

The kid between Hen and Karen finished their roll and pushed their plate forward. “Is it always going to be like this?” they asked. “All of us?”

Buck hesitated. He wanted to say yes without pause. Life had taught him enough to know better than to promise forever in clear terms. People left. Things changed. Bodies aged. Jobs shifted. There were losses.

But there was also a table full of people who had chosen each other over and over for decades.

“It’s always going to be us,” he answered. “However that looks. Even when the tables change. Even when we sit in different rooms. It’s still us.”

Eddie nodded. “We make sure of that.”

Hen lifted her glass. “You’re stuck with us,” she told the kid.

They grinned. “Good.”

The DJ’s voice came through the speakers again, announcing that the next portion of the night would be a group dance. A familiar song kicked in, something from a decade that made the older guests cheer and the younger ones groan.

“Oh no,” Ava said. “Not this one.”

“Oh yes,” Buck replied. “This one.”

Ella stood, tugging Emily up with her. “Come on,” she said. “Sibling numbers are required.”

Kai and Ronan followed without complaint. Denny and Charlie moved toward the dance floor. Mara grabbed Lily’s hand and pulled her along. Daniel hesitated until Jee looped her arm through his and dragged him out too.

Chris picked up his forearm crutches, watching the growing crowd with a puzzled smile.

Emily reached him first. She leaned in, said something quick near his ear, and tipped her head toward the 118 table. Chris’s gaze followed hers. He spotted Buck and Eddie still seated and lifted one eyebrow.

Buck’s leg protested when he stood, but he braced against the cane and focused on the faces around him. Hen rose beside Karen. Chim stood more slowly, Maddie’s hand on his elbow. Ravi and May came up behind them.

The kid hopped off their chair and darted ahead, already dancing to the opening beats of the song.

“Come on, old people,” they called. “You’re going to miss it.”

“We are not old,” Chim said.

“Your knees disagree,” Hen replied.

Buck laughed and let Eddie guide him toward the dance floor. The sound of his cane against the floor matched the rhythm of the song. His leg hurt. The room was loud. The lights were bright. His family filled every space his eyes landed on.

They stepped onto the edge of the dance floor together just as the chorus kicked in and the crowd jumped. The stories were not finished. They never would be. That was the point.

The next song came on before anyone caught their breath.

“Oh no,” Ava groaned. “Not this one.”

Ella winced. “We’re in front of people.”

“This one is a classic,” Buck said. “Respect your elders.”

On the dance floor, the DJ cupped his hand around the mic. “All right, this one’s for the original party crew. You know who you are. Get out here!”

Hen rolled her eyes, but she was already standing. “Come on,” she said to Karen. “If my knees are going to complain tomorrow, I want a reason.”

Karen laughed and followed, fingers linked with hers.

Ravi bounced to his feet. “Let’s go!” he called back at his kids. “If I can do it, you can do it.”

“You probably shouldn’t do it,” May muttered, but she let him tug her toward the floor.

Chim and Maddie came in slower. Chim rubbed his temple once, then set his shoulders like he was walking into a shift. Maddie stayed tucked close at his side.

Ella and Ava each grabbed a fiancé.

“This is part of marrying into the family,” Ella told Kai. “There’s a list.”

“I already did the speech,” Kai said. “I thought that was the test.”

“That was level one,” Ava said. “This is level two.”

Ronan sighed and let himself be dragged. “I didn’t study for this.”

On the far side, Denny and Charlie stepped onto the floor, talking over the starting beat. Mara and Lily bumped hips as they tried to agree which direction to turn. Jee and Daniel lurked near the back, both pretending they were only there under protest.

Chris stood near the edge of the group, both forearm crutches under his arms. His expression was amused and wary at the same time. Emily leaned in to say something near his ear, then pointed across the room to the 118 table.

Chris’s gaze found Buck and Eddie. One eyebrow went up.

Eddie pushed his chair back. “We’re going,” he said.

Buck’s leg barked a warning the second he stood. The pain flared hot along his knee, then settled into its usual thick ache. He caught his cane, took a breath, and waited until it leveled out.

“As long as you don’t try to prove anything,” Eddie said.

“I’m going to prove I still know the steps,” Buck replied. “That’s all.”

“That’s bad enough,” Hen called as they passed, but she was smiling.

They reached the edge of the dance floor as the first round of steps hit. The DJ called them out. The older crowd fell into the pattern like they had been practicing in the parking lot. Their bodies remembered every count, even if their joints had opinions.

Hen hit each move sharp and neat. Karen stayed right with her, relaxed but precise. Ravi committed full speed, elbows high, knees low, his kids clutching their sides laughing at him. May shook her head and followed anyway.

Chim kept his steps small, careful with his head and the lights. Maddie hovered close enough to steady him if he lost his balance, her hand brushing his back when they turned.

Ella and Ava threw themselves into the dance.

“You’re off!” Ava shouted at her sister.

“You’re off!” Ella shot back.

Kai tried to copy Ella and ended up half a beat behind. Ronan followed Ava and nearly collided with Denny.

“Watch it!” Denny laughed.

“Sorry!” Ronan said, trying to adjust.

In the center, Chris found his place. He set his crutches for support and moved his shoulders and upper body more than his feet, turning a little slower than the people around him. Emily stayed with him, close enough to be there if he needed her, far enough that he had room to move.

Buck stayed at the edge with Eddie, where they had more space. He kept his steps short on his bad leg. The ache climbed, but it stayed at a level he knew he could handle for one song.

One of Ravi and May’s kids streaked past them and yelled, “You’re slow!”

Ravi called back, “You’re grounded!”

“You can’t ground me at a wedding!” the kid answered.

“Watch me!” Ravi shouted.

The song bled into another from the same decade. People cheered. The second dance was easier. Side steps. Claps. Turns.

By the time it ended, Buck’s shirt was damp at the collar and his leg burned in a familiar way. That was his line.

“Okay,” he muttered.

Eddie heard it. “Out?”

“Yeah,” Buck said. “Out.”

The DJ dropped into a slower track. Couples moved together. Groups scattered to the sides.

Hen slipped off the floor and met them halfway. “You look like you just climbed five flights,” she said.

“It was only two songs,” Buck answered.

“Tell that to your knee,” she said. “You going to go sit outside a minute?”

“Yeah,” Buck said. “Patio.”

Eddie nodded. “We’ll be back.”

They passed the memorial table on the way out. The framed faces of Abuela, Pepa, Bobby, Athena, and Shannon sat in a neat row, candles burning in front of them. The flowers had shifted slightly as people walked past all night, but the pictures watched over the room in the same calm way.

Buck slowed a fraction. His gaze moved from one frame to the next.

The patio door was open to let some air through. Outside, the music softened to a low murmur. The air felt cooler. String lights crossed overhead, steady and simple. A few potted plants lined the low wall.

No one else was out there. The space felt small in a good way.

Eddie guided Buck toward a bench along the brick wall. Buck lowered himself down with a slow breath and stretched his leg out. The relief was immediate. The pain shifted, heavier but less sharp.

Eddie crouched in front of him, hands gentle on Buck’s calf and knee as he adjusted the angle. “Here?” he asked.

“That’s okay,” Buck said. Some muscles relaxed at once.

They sat quiet for a moment. The muffled song inside rolled into another. Laughter floated out when the door opened and closed again somewhere down the hall.

“Our son is married,” Buck said.

“Still true,” Eddie replied. “Still weird.”

“In a good way,” Buck added.

“In a good way,” Eddie agreed.

Buck let his head rest against the wall behind them. “You remember when you used to worry he wouldn’t get this?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said. His voice dropped. “I was scared of a lot of things. That people would see him as a problem. That he would feel small in every room. That he’d have to fight just to get to a starting line.”

“You worked hard to make sure he didn’t have to do that alone,” Buck said.

“I had help,” Eddie told him. “You. Hen. Bobby. Athena. Pepa. Everyone.”

Buck thought about Chris doing homework at kitchen tables, PT exercises on living room floors, the way he used to line his crutches up by the door and glare at anyone who moved them. He remembered Chris as a teenager arguing about curfew as fiercely as he argued about access.

“We did good,” Buck said. “Look at him. He picked someone who sees him, not just what he needs help with. He built a life that fits him. He’s happy.”

Eddie’s jaw flexed once. “Yeah,” he said. “He is.”

“Are you?” Eddie added after a second. “You okay? Not just your leg.”

Buck almost answered out of habit. I’m fine. I’m good. I’m okay.
He stopped himself.

He let his eyes close for a moment and actually checked.

His leg hurt. His back ached. His body felt worn in ways that did not go away after one good night of sleep. Every breath pulled against old scar tissue that would always be there.

And under that, something else moved in his chest. Not the sharp panic he used to live in, waiting for the next bad thing. Something slower. He followed it.

He thought of Bobby first.

Of the lab accident. The alarms. The smell of burned plastic. The sight of Bobby on the ground when he was supposed to be the one holding everyone else up.

He thought of the virus after that. The empty halls. The fear. Bobby’s face behind a mask, too pale and too still, and the way the world had gone so small inside that hospital room that nothing outside of it felt real.

He remembered the day Bobby finally said he was done with the field. The way his voice had been steady and tired at the same time. The pride Buck had felt for him, twisted together with a selfish, ugly terror that without Bobby on a rig, everything holding Buck together would fall apart.

When Bobby retired, Buck had felt loose in the world in a way that scared him. No captain at the end of the bay. No man in the kitchen who knew when to put a plate in front of him without asking. No voice saying, “You’re okay, kid,” in a way that made him believe it.

Then Athena stepped back too. No more uniform. No more radio calls where her voice cut through chaos. No more sharp look that stopped him from making a mistake before he even moved.

He had watched them hand their badges over and go home. He had gone home too and sat at his own kitchen table and felt like he was nineteen again with nowhere safe to go.

For a long time, he was sure everything good in his life had already peaked with them. That the station as it used to be was the best it was ever going to get. That whatever came after would be smaller. Thinner. Something he would pretend was enough.

He looked up and let the present come back into focus.

Inside that room, his son was on a dance floor, married to a woman who knew exactly how to stand beside him. His daughters were arguing and laughing and taking care of each other the way they always had. There were photos of Bobby and Athena on the memorial table because they had lived long enough to see all of this start. They had sat in his house and eaten his food and held his kids and told him they were proud of him until he had finally started to believe them. They had made it to old age. They had gone together, after years he had not thought they would get.

He missed them so much his chest hurt. There were still days he reached for his phone to send Bobby a picture from the academy, or to tell Athena about something ridiculous the twins had said, and had to stop halfway.

But he was not empty the way he had been after the virus, or after the retirement, or after the funerals. The space they left was lined with everything they had put there. Lessons. Jokes. Warnings. Comfort. Love. Family.

He had Eddie’s hand on his. He had kids inside who called him Dad and Papa and rolled their eyes at him and still came home. He had a job that let him pass on what he had been given. He had a life that kept going after the calls ended.

“I thought I lost this once,” Buck said finally, voice low. “After the lab. After the virus. After Bobby retired. I thought that was it. That the best part of my life was over. I didn’t think I’d get here. Not like this. Not… married to you. Not with three kids. Not at our son’s wedding.”

His throat tightened. He pushed through it.

“I miss them,” he said. “Every day. I wish they were sitting in there instead of on that table. I wish they could have heard Chris just now. I wish they could see us as… as grandparents.” He let out a shaky breath. “But they got me this far. And I’m still here. With you. With our kids. With all of this. I didn’t think I’d ever feel… okay without them standing right next to me. And I do. I miss them, and I’m okay. Both things at the same time.”

He opened his eyes and looked at Eddie.

“This is the life I wanted,” Buck said. “I just didn’t know I was allowed to keep it. You. Him. The girls. These loud rooms. The fact that we had them for so long and now we have this. I’m… I’m more than okay.”

Eddie slid his palm over Buck’s knuckles and held on.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because this is what we’ve got. And they’d be pissed if you didn’t let yourself have all of it.”

They sat there until the worst of the fire in Buck’s leg faded.

“Ready to go back in?” Eddie asked. “We can sit. No more dances tonight.”

“Deal,” Buck said. “Help me up.”

Eddie stood and offered his hand. Buck pulled himself up with the cane and Eddie together. His leg flared, then settled.

“Scale?” Eddie asked.

“Five and a half,” Buck said. “If I sit soon, it won’t climb.”

“Then we sit,” Eddie answered.

Inside, the tables had shifted into cake mode. Plates sat in front of everyone, slices in various states of attack. Frosting smeared across napkins and a few faces. The buzz in the room had a relaxed, end-of-program feel.

The 118 table was full again. Hen and Karen were halfway through their slices. Chim looked a little looser around the mouth now that his medication had kicked in. Maddie kept her hand on the back of his neck, thumb moving in slow lines. Ravi and May had three small plates between them as their kids rotated bites. Jee and Daniel stood behind their parents, leaning on their chairs. Denny and Charlie had ended up between Hen and Karen. Mara and Lily sat near Chim and Maddie, sharing a fork.

Ella and Ava were back with Emily between them. Kai and Ronan perched behind their chairs. Emily’s fingers drifted toward the necklace at her throat every few seconds.

Hen spotted Buck and Eddie. “There they are,” she said. “We were about to start without you.”

“That would be illegal,” Chim said. “Can’t have a proper toast if the main emotional disasters aren’t here.”

Buck snorted and dropped into his chair. His leg eased as soon as he stretched it under the table.

Eddie sat beside him. “We’re present,” he said. “Proceed.”

Hen picked up her glass. The movement alone pulled attention from most of the table. The people who didn’t see it in time got nudged by the ones who did.

“I want to say something before the DJ starts playing songs that will make my back go on strike,” she said.

A low laugh went around.

“Today is about Chris and Emily,” Hen said. “They built this day. They picked the food and the music and the guest list. They made sure there was space for all of us. That takes care. That takes effort. That’s the same way they built what they have. Step by step, honest and steady.” She tipped her glass toward them. “I am proud to know you. I am glad I get to call you family. To Chris and Emily.”

“Chris and Emily,” the table echoed, glasses lifted.

Emily’s eyes were wet. Chris’s fingers tightened around hers under the table.

Chim raised his glass next. “Hen stole the deep one, so I’ll keep it simple,” he said. “I’ve watched a lot of kids get taller, older, around this group. Chris. Ella. Ava. Jee. Daniel. Denny. Mara. All of you.” He waved his glass in a loose circle at the younger faces. “You grew up around sirens and late dinners and people who came home with shadows in their eyes. You still chose work that cares about other people. In uniforms, in call centers, in labs, in hospitals, on boats. You didn’t all become first responders. That’s fine. You still show up. That’s what matters. To all the kids who aren’t kids anymore. I’m proud of you.”

“To the kids,” voices answered, warm.

Ravi lifted his glass. “I just want to say,” he began, “that I have never seen a group refuse to let go of each other the way this one has. We’ve had retirements, promotions, transfers, injuries, moves. We still end up at tables like this. That’s rare. I’m grateful for it.” He glanced at Chris and Emily. “I’m grateful you chose a day that brought everyone back in one room again. To family. However it got here.”

“To family,” the table echoed.

Buck shifted in his chair and looked toward the memorial table across the room. The candles still burned. The faces in the frames were wrapped in soft light.

He raised his glass. “To the people who aren’t in chairs tonight,” he said. “Abuela. Pepa. Shannon. Bobby. Athena. They taught us how to do this. How to make room. How to sit with each other on good days and bad ones. They are part of this wedding even if they’re not on the guest list anymore. They’re in the food, and the music, and the way we keep dragging more chairs over when someone new walks in. To them.”

“To them,” came back, quiet but strong.

Eddie took his turn last. “To the 118,” he said. “Old crew, new crew, retired, still running calls. We used to say ‘your family is here’ on the radio. We meant it. We still mean it. We’re not all at the same station now. We’re not all wearing turnouts. But when something happens, we show up. Sometimes that’s on a scene. Sometimes it’s in a hospital. Sometimes it’s in a room like this.” He looked around the table. “I’m proud of us. To the 118.”

“To the 118,” everyone answered.

Glasses went down. The noise at the table started to rise again in little bursts as people turned to talk.

Chris cleared his throat.

“Can I say something?” he asked.

Buck turned toward him at once. “Always.”

Emily’s hand tightened on his.

Chris glanced at her, drew in a breath, then looked around the table. His eyes went to each face—Buck, Eddie, Hen, Karen, Chim, Maddie, Ravi, May, all the kids—and softened.

“I had a whole thing written out,” he said. “Emily made me practice so I wouldn’t mumble. I’m not doing the whole thing right now, because I like you and I don’t want to hold your cake hostage.”

A few people chuckled.

“I just want to say this part,” he went on. “I grew up with more parents than most people. Dad. Buck. Bobby. Athena. Abuela. Pepa. All of you. When I was younger, someone asked me who would walk me down the aisle. They thought it was a simple question. One person. One answer. I didn’t know how to explain that it wasn’t like that for me. That I had too many people to pick just one without hurting someone.”

He swallowed.

“Today, Emily and I decided to walk together,” he said. “That felt right. But when we came down that aisle, I felt all of you with us. In the room. In the way everything looked the way it does. In the noise. In how safe it felt. I’m grateful for that. I’m grateful for every time you showed up. I wouldn’t be here like this without you. I wouldn’t be me.”

Buck’s throat burned. He felt Eddie’s hand close around his under the table.

“And,” Chris continued, “since we managed to get everyone in one place at the same time, which is impossible most days, we wanted to tell you something else while you’re all here.”

Emily’s free hand moved, almost without her seeming to think about it, to rest over her stomach.

Something in Buck’s chest jumped.

“It’s still early,” Chris said. “So we’re not shouting it to the whole world yet. But our doctor is happy so far. We’re happy. We wanted you to know.” He let out a breath that shook just a little. “We’re going to have a baby.”

For a second, the table went silent. The sound from the rest of the room blurred at the edges.

Then the noise hit like a wave.

Hen’s hand flew to her mouth. Karen grabbed her arm. Chim made a sound that broke halfway between a laugh and a sob. Maddie’s eyes filled in an instant. Ravi swore softly. May laughed through tears. Ella and Ava both cried out at the same time. Denny slapped both hands on the table. Mara clapped. Jee and Daniel said “Oh my God” in unison. Kai and Ronan stared wide-eyed. Lily wiped at her face already.

Buck couldn’t get air for a beat. It felt like his body forgot how.

Beside him, Eddie’s whole frame went tight. “We’re—” he started, then stopped, voice gone.

Grandparents, Buck’s brain supplied. The word felt heavy and impossible and exactly right all at once.

Emily raised her hand a little. “There’s one more thing,” she said, voice shaking. “Then I promise we’ll let you eat your cake.”

People tried to quiet down. It worked in patches.

“Our doctor did an early scan,” she said. “We’ll have more tests. More appointments. But there was one thing they were already sure about.” She took Chris’s hand and pressed it over her stomach along with hers. “There isn’t just one heartbeat. There are two.”

The table froze again.

Then it exploded properly.

“Of course it’s twins!” Ella shouted, already crying.

“You’re kidding me,” Ava said, laughing and wiping her face at the same time. “Again?”

Hen let out a sharp, joyful sound. “You’re serious?”

“Very,” Emily said. “They checked twice. Chris asked them three times.”

“I did,” Chris admitted.

Denny pointed at Buck and Eddie. “You two are cursed.”

“Blessed,” Karen corrected.

Mara wiped her cheeks. “We need more chairs for holidays.”

“More high chairs,” Lily said.

Buck’s eyes burned. His vision blurred, edges going soft. His heart pounded hard enough that he had to remind himself to breathe.

Twins. Again. Two more kids in this family. Their first grandchildren. Two more little ones who would grow up with too many people claiming them in every room.

Next to him, Eddie finally found words. “We’re going to be…” He stopped and laughed once in disbelief. “We’re really…?”

“Yeah,” Chris said, looking straight at them now. “You’re going to be grandparents.”

That word hit Buck in the center of everything. Memories stacked under it fast. The days he didn’t think he’d live long enough to see Chris grown. The shifts that could have gone another way. The quiet nights after hard calls when Eddie sat on the couch and stared at the wall. The time Buck lay in a hospital bed wondering if he’d get to see the kids finish middle school. The way he used to joke about not being able to picture himself old.

Old came anyway. And it brought this.

His throat closed. Sound around him warped. Tears slid out before he could stop them.

He saw them land on his hand.

Eddie’s grip tightened. Buck turned his head. Eddie’s face was wet too. There was no attempt to hide it.

“Hey,” Emily said softly. “We didn’t mean to break you.”

“You did,” Buck croaked. “In a good way.”

“We wanted you to hear it here,” Chris said. “At this table. It felt right. It took all of this to get us here.”

Buck tried to speak. Nothing came. He reached for Chris instead, hand out.

Chris pushed his chair back, grabbed his crutches, and stood. He moved around the table slowly, careful of the scattered chairs and people’s feet. When he reached Buck, he leaned one crutch against the back of the chair and wrapped his free arm around his dad’s shoulders.

Buck held on like he could keep the moment in place by sheer force. He pressed his face against Chris’s shoulder, felt the familiar weight of him, the dress shirt under his cheek, the slight shake in Chris’s own breath.

“I’m so proud of you,” Buck managed. “I know I say it. I’m saying it again. I am so proud of you.”

“I know,” Chris said, voice thick. “I had you and papa as good examples.”

Eddie stood too, slower. Chris shifted, pulling him into the hug without letting Buck go. For a second, all three of them held on—Chris in the middle, his fathers on either side, the table and the noise and the whole wedding still going on around them.

When they finally broke apart, there were more people waiting. Ella and Ava barrelled in next, crying and laughing and talking over each other. Kai and Ronan came behind them with softer smiles. Denny and Charlie hugged them both. Mara and Lily. Jee and Daniel. Hen and Karen. Chim and Maddie. Ravi and May.

It felt like passing through a line of arms and hands and faces they all knew by heart.

Eventually, people drifted back to their spots. The DJ gave them a little space, playing something quiet and steady under the buzz.

Chris and Emily sat again near Buck and Eddie. Emily’s hand still rested over her stomach, fingers splayed like she might feel something already.

“You okay?” she asked quietly.

Buck huffed out a breath that almost counted as a laugh. “No,” he said. “And yes. I don’t know. I feel like my skin doesn’t fit, but in a good way.”

Eddie nodded. “Same.”

“We know it’s early,” Chris said. “We know things can happen. We’re not pretending it’s all guaranteed. We’re going to be careful. We just… we wanted you to know now. We wanted you to get to be part of all of it, not just the safe parts.”

“You don’t have to explain,” Eddie said. “We’re glad you told us. We’re glad you want us in it.”

“You’re in it whether you want to be or not,” Emily said. “Both of you. All of you. They’re coming into this circus. There is no way around that.”

Buck smiled, still watery. “Lucky kids.”

“Very lucky,” Hen put in from across the table, clearly listening. “They’re going to have more babysitters than hours in the day.”

“You’re all going to fight over them,” May said.

“Obviously,” Ava answered. “I call first sleepover.”

“You live fifteen minutes away,” Ella said. “That’s cheating.”

“Don’t be mad because you decided living in Hawai’i sounded better than LA,” Ava snarked.

The DJ eased into another slow song. People began to stand and move back toward the dance floor in pairs.

“Go,” Buck told Chris and Emily. “Dance. We’ll sit and pretend we’re not both ten seconds away from crying again.”

“You’re not pretending well,” Emily said, but she stood. She reached for Chris’s hand. “Come on. One more.”

He rose with his crutches, then found his balance beside her. They walked together to the center of the floor.

Buck watched them turn toward each other, hands coming together, bodies settling into a gentle sway. Emily’s palm slid up to rest over his chest. Chris’s hands landed at her waist. For a moment, it was just the two of them there, even with the room full.

Around them, other couples joined. Ella and Kai. Ava and Ronan. Denny and Charlie. Mara and Lily. Jee and Daniel. Hen and Karen. Chim and Maddie. Ravi and May.

The 118 table emptied until it was just Buck and Eddie sitting side by side.

Buck’s leg ached. His back twinged if he turned too fast. His eyes stung. He felt tired all the way through and also more awake than he had any right to feel at this hour.

“Talk to me,” Eddie said quietly. “What’s going on in there?”

Buck took his time. He looked at the dance floor first. At Chris and Emily. At their kids. At the people who had become their family. Then he looked at the memorial table. At Abuela. Pepa. Shannon. Bobby. Athena. At the candles burning down steady.

He thought about walking into the 118 for the first time, young and loud and desperate for somewhere to belong. About the early days when he chased every call like it might fix something broken in him. About Bobby pulling him back from the edge. About Athena telling him to stop running from himself. About Eddie walking into the station like he’d always been heading there. About the first time Chris did homework at the kitchen table. About Ella and Ava in matching onesies on the living room floor. About family dinners that grew until they could barely fit everyone inside the house.

He thought about the bomb, and the pain that never left his leg, and the way teaching had given him a way to still be part of the work without standing in fire. He thought about Eddie moving up through the ranks, every promotion taking him a little further from the truck and a little closer to this wider responsibility. He thought about the funerals, the losses, the quiet days after, when it felt like things might crumble and somehow they didn’t.

He thought about sitting here now, next to his husband, watching their son dance with his wife and knowing there were two more small lives already changing the shape of this family.

He let all of that sit in one place for once instead of shoving parts of it aside.

“This isn’t the life I thought I was going to have,” he said slowly. “Back then. Before the 118. Even in the early days at the station. I knew I wanted something that felt like more than just me. I didn’t know it could be this.”

Eddie’s thumb rubbed along his hand. “This what?”

“All of it,” Buck said. “You. Chris. Ella. Ava. Our house. These people. The way the kids still show up for each other even when they don’t live under the same roof anymore. The fact that we’re sitting here talking about grandkids, and I’m not in a hospital bed or some burned-out apartment somewhere alone.”

He swallowed.

“I shouldn’t be surprised we got here,” he went on. “We worked for it. We fought for it. We did the therapy. We did the hard talks. We kept choosing each other. But sometimes I look around and I still feel… stunned. In a good way.”

Eddie listened without interrupting. His eyes were bright.

“I think about Bobby,” Buck said. “He told me once that the job was only worth it if we had somewhere to go home to at the end of it. He helped me build that. You did too. We did.”

He nodded at the dance floor. “This is what home looks like now. Not just our house. This whole mess.”

“You okay with that mess?” Eddie asked.

“I love that mess,” Buck said. “I wouldn’t trade it. Even the hard parts. Even the pieces that hurt. Because they all got us here.”

He looked back at Chris and Emily. Emily rested her head briefly against Chris’s shoulder. Chris smiled down at her in a way that was still new and already familiar.

“Twenty years ago,” Buck said, “I was trying to convince myself I deserved to stay in one place. Now I’m watching our son dance at his wedding, and he’s going to call us when he has doctor’s appointments for his kids. That’s… that’s a lot.”

“It is,” Eddie agreed.

“But it’s good,” Buck added. “It’s really good.”

He turned his hand over and laced their fingers together more firmly.

“I’d do it again,” he said. “All of it. The calls. The injuries. The long nights. The fights. The work. If this is where we end up again, I’d do it again.”

Eddie’s eyes filled. He let out a breath that shook a little. “Me too,” he said.

They sat like that, side by side, watching their family move across the floor. The song ended. Another began. People traded partners. Someone laughed loud enough to carry across the room. A kid squealed. A glass clinked.

The night would wind down. Lights would come up. Tables would clear. Everyone would go back to their own beds and alarm clocks and lives.

But right now, in that room, with the people they loved and the proof of every choice they’d made all around them, Buck felt steady.

He squeezed Eddie’s hand once more and kept his eyes on the dance floor.

This was their life.

And he wanted all of it.