Archive of Our Own

It’s been three years since Maddie shook her little brother awake and packed him in her jeep, Evan still clutching a broken wrist with a blistering red cheek. Three years since they broke down outside a town so small it didn’t even show up on most maps. Three years since she stumbled into a rundown book shop with an owner with the heart of a saint.

Now, Maddie wakes before sunrise, with an apartment that smells like dust and cheap coffee. It’s small, barely three rooms including the bathroom, and Maddie has been using a broken pull out couch as a bed since they moved in. It was a big argument with Buck, him refusing to give up the one bedroom to his working sister and Maddie hard pressed in making a growing teenager sleep on a couch his feet stuck past. It took weeks for Buck to relent, with the caveat that Maddie and him share the bed on movie nights, a tiny TV set on a broken nightstand playing VHS tapes Maddie took from the donation bin at the front of the store.

Turn the Page is a second hand book store right below her shoe box apartment. Maddie runs it for Mrs. Baird, the owner only in name, too old to keep working, but too kind to the Buckleys by giving them both the apartment and the shop while fronting the expenses that comes from running a business. That leaves Maddie the unofficial manager, cashier, cleaner, and accountant, at least until Buck returns from school, insisting on helping out around the store in any way he can. 

She mostly leaves him in charge of checkout, unless it’s a Wednesday or Friday night, when she works a shift at the diner down the street parttime. She hates those nights the most, leaving Buck to run the shop by himself ‘til close. He’s only fifteen this year, and her chest hurts thinking about all the things he’s missing out on, all the things she can’t give him. Buck swears he doesn’t mind, that he wouldn’t be doing anything with his freetime anyways, as if Maddie doesn’t see the football tryouts in his homework folder or the yearning stares at teens that aren’t stuck helping their older sister make ends meet.

She’s organizing last month’s spreadsheets when she feels something soft hit the side of her head, making her pause. She slowly turns to Buck, who’s lounging at a reading table near the counter, head in a book she knows he’s not reading, because she’s only seen him pick up books on weird trivia and animals, and even she finds Ernest Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea a bit dull. 

She stares at him suspiciously, before going back to her spreadsheets with a hidden grin on her face. A moment later, another soft object thunks her head, and she looks down to see two paper balls on the floor.

“Don’t you have homework to do?” She asks with a fond smirk.

“Huh?” Buck says, “Sorry, I’m really into this book right now.”

“Uh-huh.” Maddie says indulgently, “What’s it about?”

Buck pauses for a moment, eyes a little wide. Internally Maddie coos. Buck has always been a terrible liar, and an even worse improviser. “Uh, a man, at sea. Fishing?”

“Please tell me more.” Maddie says, giving Buck her full attention.

Before she can watch Buck scrabble for an answer, the bell rings over the door.

He’s one of their regulars, a man in his early thirties who claims to be a writer, though Maddie’s never seen him buy a single notebook. He’s polite enough but she can’t help but feel on edge when he comes in. He has an air to him, of privilege and entitlement that rubs her the wrong way.

She gives him a smile that only years of customer service can form, “Hey, Markus, back so soon?”

He smiles, white teeth perfectly straight, “You can’t fault a guy for watching out for some good deals.” He turns his gaze to Buck, eyes brighter, “Hey Ev, is your sister forcing the classics on you now? Hemingway is just cruel.”

Buck hides a wince, not a fan of any nickname that isn’t Buck, “Why does no one believe I like Hemingway? Maybe I have a secret love for Hemingway that I have to hide out of fear of you judgemental jerks.”

Maddie raises an eyebrow, “Uh-huh, name another book by Hemingway right now.”

“The Scarlet Letter.” Buck says confidently.

“Wrong.” 

Markus laughs, his eyes still on Buck for a second too long before turning to Maddie, “I was just wondering if you got any old editions of Where the Red Fern Grows?”

Maddie runs through the inventory in her head, “Sorry Markus, I don’t think so.”

“Could I bother you to check?” He says with a sheepish grin, “I know you have books in the back that haven’t been sorted.”

Maddie resists the urge to roll her eyes, and wonders if her smile looks as strained as it feels, “There’s quite a few books-”

“Please?” He interrupts, voice tinted with the kind of arrogance that only a white man can use while still having a polite smile on his face.

Maddie sighs, but playfully puts her hands up in defeat, “Alright, I’ll take a look.”

“You’re a saint.” He says seriously, and as she turns to check the storage room she makes a face that only Buck can see. He raises the book further, but his shaking shoulders betray his laughter.

Maddie does the standard walk around the closet sized storage room, lifting a few books and glancing at the spines quickly but not going so fast as to make Markus think she’s lying. She lingers for a few more moments and decides that's long enough stalling and goes back to the front to find Markus leaning over the table Buck’s at, almost standing over him with an expression Maddie can’t place but one that puts ice in her veins. Buck has a smile on but it’s strained, and he’s leaning back in his chair in what looks like a last ditch effort to put distance between them.

“No dice!” Maddie says, a tad longer than necessary. Markus doesn’t jump back like Maddie would prefer him to, instead staring at Buck a moment longer, as if waiting for a response before slowly pulling away, a quick rap of his knuckles twice on the wooden table. 

He finally straightens up and looks at Maddie, “No? What a shame.” 

Maddie instinctively moves closer, standing next to her brother and between him and Markus. “Yeah, we haven’t had much coming in. I heard Amazon has everything these days though, you should check it out.”

“And stop supporting the local businesses?” Markus shakes his head, “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, I’ll just have to check in in a few weeks then.”

“No promises.” Maddie says with a tight lipped smile, watching him go, the bell ringing overhead. Only when he’s out of sight does she let her shoulders drop.

“What happened?” She asks immediately, her head snapped to Buck. “Did he say something to you?”

Buck shakes his head, but he’s subdued, Maddie can tell, as if the lighthearted energy has been sapped out of him. He silently puts Hemingway back on the shelf. “Buck.”

“Nothing happened.” He snips. “If you don’t need me down here I’m heading upstairs.”

“Evan-” Maddie tries again, but he’s already retreating, fast footfalls up the steps and out of her reach.

___

The next morning comes too early, spilling light into the cracks of last night’s events.

Maddie wakes to the sound of Buck’s alarm blaring from the bedroom, some obnoxious siren noise that makes her jolt upright on the pull-out couch, heart racing like she’s late for something important. It takes her a few seconds to remember where she is, the smell of old paper and molded floorboards bringing her to the present.

“Buck,” She calls, voice rough with sleep. “Your alarm’s going to wake the dead.”

From the bedroom comes a groan, followed by the unmistakable thump of a pillow being thrown. The alarm cuts off. Then Buck appears in the doorway, curls a mess, wearing a shirt with at least two holes in it and pajama pants that are definitely too short. He squints at her. “Why are you awake? It’s illegal for you to be awake.”

“If you didn’t use an air horn to wake up, I wouldn't be,” Maddie mutters, rolling off the couch and heading for the small kitchenette. Coffee is made by muscle memory, measuring grounds by instinct and throwing water in with zero precision. The cheap beans fill their tiny apartment with their aroma, and Maddie fights the sleep in her eyes and breathes it in.

Buck drags himself to the tiny table and drops into a chair, chin hitting the wood with a soft thunk. “That stuff is disgusting,” He says, wrinkling his nose.

Maddie raises a brow, “You drink it anyway.”

“Because I love you. And because I’ll die without caffeine."

She snorts despite herself, passing him a chipped mug with a faded cartoon on it. He takes it with the desperation of a drowning man, cursing when he sips it before it can cool down.

They move around each other easily after that, a practiced routine. Maddie shoves bread into the toaster. Buck hunts down his backpack, somehow losing it in a space barely bigger than a walk-in closet. She reminds him to grab his lunch, and reminds him again when he makes no moves to take it. He reminds her that the toaster is actively trying to burn the apartment down, and Maddie swears as she pulls out smoking bread, shaking out burnt fingers.

Maddie eyes the burnt toast and butters it anyway, sliding it to Buck and ignoring his face of disgust. He takes a careful bite like it’s diseased, but keeps eating regardless. 

Watching him like this, half-awake and painfully a teenager and still so young, Maddie feels the familiar twist of guilt in her stomach. She’s twenty-five and already tired in a way that feels permanent. She’s responsible for keeping the lights on, the fridge stocked, the world from chewing him up and spitting him out the way it tried to before.

She thinks about mornings that should have been easier, about caring parents and hands that healed instead of hurt. About packed lunches that didn’t come from discount bins and goodwill grocery runs. About how Buck learned too early how to be adaptable, how to be fine with less, how to not ask for things. How he learned that from her.

“You’re staring,” he says, breaking her thoughts, “That’s your ‘I’m thinking too hard’ face.”

“I do not have a face for that.”

“You do, your eyebrows do this thing.” He demonstrates exaggeratedly, nearly poking himself in the eye. 

She swats at him with a dish towel, “Eat your breakfast, you ingrate.”

He grins, all crooked and bright, and for a moment the knot in her stomach loosens its grip. 

“Hey, Maddie?” Buck says, around a mouthful of black toast, “You know I really appreciate everything you do, right?”

She stills for a second, then lightly scoffs, turning back to the sink so he won’t see how much that means to her. “You’re a high schooler, your standards are low.”

“Rude,” he says, offended. “I have very high standards. You meet them.” He pauses, “Barely.”

She laughs, shaking her head, and the shadows of her worries fade away.

___

Later that night, after Buck’s come home and the shop’s been open a respectable amount of time, Maddie flips the door sign to closed, the lock clicking into place as Buck lets out an exaggerated sigh of relief and slumps against the counter.

“Another thrilling evening in retail.” He groans out. 

She nudges him with her hip, “And we love it.”

“Well now you’re just lying to me and yourself.”

They work through closing together; Buck straightening tables, Maddie tallying the register, the low hum of the overhead lights filling the space. The shop feels different at night, quieter, safer somehow. Like it belongs to them in these hours.

Buck hums under his breath as he reshelves paperbacks, moving too fast, knocking into things. He’s tired, she can see it in the slump of his shoulders, and that familiar guilt threatens again.

“Buck,” She says, without looking up, “You can head upstairs. I’ll finish.”

He scoffs, “Nice try. You always say that.”

“And you always ignore me.”

“And for some reason you think that’ll change today.” Buck says, making a face at her.

She smiles despite herself.

They finish up side by side, lights dimmed, the shop settling into silence around them.

When they finally head upstairs, Maddie feels the stress of it all as the end-of-day anxiety hits, the bills, the work, the neverending grind. But then Buck will press his shoulder into hers, dances around the kitchen as he starts making dinner, singing disney songs loud and off key, and she remembers what it's all for, remembers that it's worth it.

___

Macy’s Diner has been around probably as long as the town has, with vintage seating and old school counters. The smell of grease and burnt coffee lingers in the air and clings to your clothes long after you leave. Maddie ties her apron tight, greets her coworkers with a smile, and slips into the rhythm of the place easily: orders written down, plates sliding across the counter, the bell over the pass-through ringing like a heartbeat.

It’s late enough that the after work crowd has thinned, leaving behind the regulars and the people who don’t want to go home yet. Soft jazz plays overhead and threatens to put Maddie to sleep, and she takes a coffee pot and makes her rounds, knowing most will decline but needing something to do to stay awake.

Predictably all do besides a man in the corner, sitting alone with a turnout jacket folded neatly beside him. He looks tired in a way sleep won’t fix, shoulders heavy and gaze unfocused as he stares into an empty mug.

She approaches with her practiced smile, “Hey there. Refill?”

He looks up, startled, eyes finally returning to the present. “Oh-yeah. Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”

His voice is quiet but polite, and Maddie pours the coffee and sets it down gently, “Long shift?”

He huffs a breath that might almost be a laugh if his face wasn’t so drawn out, “Something like that.”

She nods, not pushing. “Any interest in food, or are you just here for the caffeine?”

He glances at the menu like it’s written in another language, “Uh. Whatever’s easy.”

“Dealer’s choice,” She decides with a nod, “I’ll bring you something that won’t disappoint.”

“That’s a risky promise,” He says, but there’s the ghost of a smile there.

When she brings a tray back, french onion soup and buttered bread, he thanks her again, genuinely. Maddie busies herself with other tables, but she keeps an eye on him out of habit. He eats slowly, like he’s not in a hurry to be anywhere else.

Eventually, the lull hits, the cook wiping down the grill, her coworkers counting down registers and splitting tips. Maddie passes the fireman and refills his coffee without asking.

“You don’t have to keep doing that,” He says before she walks away.

“I do,” she says lightly, “It’s in my job description.”

He chuckles with a nod, “Right, I just meant- thanks, for the coffee.” He raises the cup. 

“No problem,” Maddie replies, and hesitates for a moment, “I’m Maddie, by the way, hi.” 

“Bobby.” He says with a smile, “Did you just start working here? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

“Oh, no,” Maddie laughs, “I’ve been here for a while now, but I don’t typically work Tuesdays, I’m only part time here, most of my time is at my book shop, actually.”

Bobby’s eyebrows raise, “You have a bookshop?”

“In almost every sense of the word,” Maddie nods, “It’s just down the street actually, Turn the Page?”

“I have passed it a few times here and there, I’ll have to stop by sometime, is it your parents?”

Maddie falters for a second, before shaking her head with a tight smile, “Nope, just me.” And Buck, she leaves out, old paranoia choking the words down.

“Ah,” Bobby says, looking at her in contemplation, “That must be hard.”

“I make do.” Maddie responds, a tad too defensive.

“Doesn’t make it less hard.” Bobby counters, and for a moment Maddie can’t find the words.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, “I didn’t mean to cross a line. I relate, that’s all.”

“How so?”

Bobby shrugs, “My father wasn’t exactly the kindest. I remember what it was like, fresh out of high school and making it on my own. It wasn't easy.”

Maddie softens a little, shoulders dropping with her defenses. She thinks of early mornings and late nights, of responsibility sitting heavy on her chest, of a kid who depends on her for everything.”Yeah.” She says, “It isn’t easy.”

Bobby nods, taking another sip of coffee. He sets the mug down carefully, both hands wrapped around it like it’s anchoring him.

“But,” He adds after a beat, “You’re still standing. You’ve got a shop, a job, a routine. That counts for something.”

Maddie lets out a slow breath, “Some days it feels like it shouldn’t,” She admits, “Like I’m always one bad week away from everything falling apart.”

He offers a knowing smile, “Yeah, that feeling doesn’t go away as fast as people pretend it does.”

The bell over the pass-through jingles as the cook flicks the lights over the grill down another notch. Last call energy settles into the diner, soft and sleepy. Maddie glances toward the counter, then back to Bobby.

“Well,” She says, straightening a little, slipping back into her role, “I should probably start pretending I’m closing.”

He chuckles, “Fair enough.” He reaches for his wallet, then pauses. “Hey, thanks. Not just for the coffee.”

She tilts her head, “What for?”

“For letting me sit here and be tired without asking me to explain it,” he says simply.

Something warm settles in her chest at that, “Anytime,” she replies, “That’s kind of what diners are for.”

He leaves a generous tip folded beneath the empty mug and slips his turnout jacket over his arm. At the door, he glances back, “I’ll check out that bookshop sometime. Turn the Page, right?”

“Yeah,” Maddie smiles, more easily now, “I’ll see you there.”

The bell rings as he steps out into the night, and the quiet that follows feels different. Not heavy, just calm. Maddie wipes down the counter, and lets the night soothe some aches.

___

Maddie locks the door to the shop behind her as she walks in, the motion typically answered by Buck calling out from somewhere between the stacks. She waits for his voice to filter through, and frowns when it doesn’t come.

The shop is quiet in a way that feels foreign. Maddie sets her bag down slowly, eyes scanning the space. Buck is at the counter, shoulders hunched, elbows braced on the wood as he pretends very hard to focus on the ledger in front of him.

“Hey,” She says gently, “You closed early?”

“Yeah,” Buck answers without looking up.

Maddie walks cautiously, moving behind the counter. She takes in the details one at a time: the tight line of his shoulders, the crease in his brow, the shaking of his fingers. The fact that he hasn’t been able to look her in the eye since she walked in.

“Everything okay?” she asks, casual on the surface.

“Fine.”

She exhales quietly and starts her routine, checking the register, skimming yesterday’s numbers, giving him some space while keeping him in her peripheral vision. He’s closed in on himself, knees bouncing, jaw clenched. Whatever’s going on is sitting under his skin.

Her mind flicks, unwillingly, to certain regulars. To lingering looks. To the way Buck went quiet the other night and never really came back out of it. To before all of this, when Buck was so much smaller and still hid the worst from her. The suspicion curls in her stomach, sharp and unwelcome, the ice in her chest freezing with new purpose. 

“Did something happen after I left?” She says, sharper than she intended, “Anyone come in?”

Buck’s pen presses too hard into the paper, leaving a dark line, “No.”

Maddie sets the paper she was looking at down, “Evan.”

He looks up, eyes flashing, “Why do you keep asking?”

“Because you’re-” Acting like how you used to,”not yourself.”

“Maybe this is myself,” he snaps.

Maddie straightens, irritation flashing through her before years of dealing with a teenager kick in, “Okay.” She says slowly, “Then help me out here, what does that mean?”

“It means I’m tired,” Buck says, pushing back from the counter, “And annoyed. And I don’t want to talk about it.”

He moves towards the stairs, but Maddie steps into his path, trying not to block him fully but anxiety winning over.

“Did someone say something to you?” She questions, “Because if they did-”

“Drop it,” Buck cuts in, voice sharp and exasperated, “You’re always doing this, always hovering. I said I’m fine.”

“You’re fifteen,” She emphasizes, “It’s literally my job to hover.”

“That’s the problem!” He explodes, the sound echoing louder than he probably means it to. He runs a hand through his hair, breathing hard. “You don’t trust me to handle anything, ever. It’s like I’ll always just be some scared kid to you.” He spits out.

Maddie stares at him, stunned, “That’s- that’s not fair.”

“Neither is this!” He shoots back, gesturing vaguely between them, at the shop, the apartment, the life they’re living, “I didn’t ask for you to worry or freak out over nothing!”

Silence crashes down between them, heavy and fragile. It rings in Maddie’s ears and she feels just a slip away from breaking. 

Maddie swallows, “I’m not freaking out,” She says,“I’m worried, there’s a difference.”

Buck looks away, shoulders curling inward again, anger draining into something smaller and sharper, “Just- leave me alone, please, Maddie.”

He slips past her this time, retreating toward the stairs without another word.

Maddie stands there long after he’s gone, the bell over the door silent, the shop unchanged but suddenly feeling far too big for just her. 

___

A few weeks pass before Maddie has to work another Tuesday. The diner is louder tonight, a rush of voices and clattering plates that keeps Maddie moving without thinking too hard. She spots Bobby the moment he comes in, same booth, same jacket folded beside him, and she pours his coffee before he can ask.

“Hey,” he says, smiling when he sees her, “You stalking me?” He jokes.

“Absolutely,” she deadpans. “I memorized your schedule just for this.”

He laughs, real and unguarded, and something in Maddie warms at the sound, “Guess I should be flattered.”

They talk in the gaps between her tables. Nothing heavy, just work stories, bad customers, the eternal disappointment of diner pie. Bobby listens the way people don’t always bother to, and when he talks, it’s not as halting as before. The shadows are still there, but they don’t seem quite as close.

At one point while Maddie is refilling his mug, she asks, “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“Depends on the question,” He says lightly.

Maddie bites her lip, “Do you have kids?”

Bobby’s disposition changes instantly, the smile lost to a haunted look and his posture turning to steel. “I-yes. I did.”

Maddie feels herself turn white,” Oh god.” She sits across from him, taking his hands in her own and squeezing tight. “Bobby, I’m so sorry.”

He gives a tight smile, pulling away from her, “You didn’t know.” He says kindly.

“I shouldn’t have assumed.” Maddie says, apologetically, moving to stand, before he stops her, putting a hand up and gesturing her to sit back down.

“No, no,” Bobby reassures her, “You asked for a reason.” He prompts, both a redirection and an offer to listen in one. 

Maddie breathes out, fingers twisting together in her lap. “My brother, Buck, I take care of him. It’s just been the two of us for a while now.” She stares at the tabletop, “Lately he’s been just- not himself, angry. I keep asking what’s wrong and he keeps shutting me out, and I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing by pushing or if I’m just making it worse.”

Bobby listens, eyes steady on her.

“I’m supposed to keep him safe,” she continues, voice lower now. “That’s the deal. But sometimes it feels like the harder I try, the more he pulls away.” She lets out a humorless laugh. “I don’t know where the line is between protecting him and smothering him.”

Bobby nods slowly, contemplative. “That line’s hard,” he offers, “Especially when you’ve had to grow up fast. You don’t get taught how to do this stuff, you just do it, and hope you’re not screwing it up too badly.”

Her shoulders sag a little, “Yeah.”

He takes a sip of his coffee, eyes unfocused for a second. “Kids, teenagers especially, they want to be seen as capable, even when they’re not. Even when they’re scared.” He glances back at her. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t need you, it just means they don’t always know how to ask.”

Maddie swallows, “What if-” She stops herself, almost embarrassed to voice it, “What if something happened, something I’d need to know?” The words tumble out, images of Buck, twelve years old and covered in bruises, begging her to take him anywhere but home splaying through her mind, ice sharp in her chest.

“There’s a guy who comes into the shop sometimes,” She says slowly. “ And I can’t say for sure but I think he makes Buck uncomfortable, and I just-” She shakes her head, “I just worry.” She finishes, the words weak in comparison to what she actually feels.

Bobby’s expression sharpens,  “Your instincts matter,” he says firmly. “You don’t need proof to pay attention to them, but you also can’t force him to talk before he’s ready.”

“So what do I do?” She asks, hoping the desperation doesn’t leak through.

“You keep the door open,” Bobby replies. “You make it clear- without interrogating, that you believe him, that you’ll back him no matter what. And if you think he’s in danger?” He hesitates, then adds, “Then you do whatever you have to do to keep him safe, whether he agrees or not. That’s not smothering, that’s just parenting.”

Maddie blinks, throat tight. “I’m not- I never wanted to replace anyone.”

“Doesn’t sound like you did,” Bobby says gently, “Sounds like you showed up when he needed you.”

She looks away, wiping at her eye with the heel of her hand and laughing softly at herself, “God, I’m sorry, I’m such a mess.”

He smiles, small but warm, “Join the club.” He says with a tilt of his cup.

The bell over the pass-through rings, snapping the moment. Maddie stands, smoothing her apron. “I should get back before my boss thinks I’ve run off.” She says, forcing herself together.

“Thanks for trusting me with that,” Bobby says, something soft in his gaze.

She pauses, meeting his eyes “Thank you for not telling me I’m overreacting.”

“Anytime,” he says, “And for what it’s worth? Buck’s lucky to have you.”

Her chest aches, “Yeah, I hope one day I can believe that.”

___

In the late afternoon light, the sun leaves an orange, yellowish tint to the bookstore. It was once Buck’s favorite time of day, the way the books looked more like antiques than dusty old hand-me-downs, the soft edges and warmth it filled the air with. A cup full of hot chocolate, a sister’s teasing voice, an empty store and his favorite person.

Now, with Maddie taking more shifts at the diner since Rose has had her baby, Buck anxiously waits for the time to pass, for the light to leave and the doors to lock shut. Unfinished homework lays on the counter, a bouncing knee and bitten down fingernails scratching doodles into the hardwood, until the bell rings out and Buck’s heart lands in his stomach, only raising back to the surface when he doesn’t recognize the person walking in, and the cycle continues until six o’clock ticks by and Buck can run to the closing sign and flip it, the shaking of his hands only stilling after hearing the click of the lock.

Buck knows that if Maddie knew she’d let him close early, would probably insist on it and maybe even stop taking more shifts. But Buck also knows that they need the money, and need it desperately, and the idea of his sister having more stress on her shoulders makes him want to dig his own lungs out. 

Buck knows she gave up everything for him, a rich boyfriend, a paid college, a career, a future. And Buck also knows that he’ll never be able to repay her, will never be able to thank her for the labor she endures to keep him safe. So Buck shuts his mouth, and runs the shop, and pushes the nerves that threaten to swallow him whole when the bell rings and the exact person he feared walks through the door.

Markus lets the door close behind him with a soft click, hands in his coat pockets, eyes already locked on him, smiling like he does when he knows Maddie’s not here.

“Hey, Ev,” Markus says casually, “Working another solo by yourself?”

Buck forces his muscles to untense, takes a shaky breath and gives an even shakier smile, “Just for a little bit, Maddie should be back soon.” He lies, hoping the tremor doesn’t read through.

“Really?” Markus inquires, walking to the counter slowly. Buck loses the smile, pushing himself away from the check-out desk as Markus leans over, “So that wasn’t your sister’s jeep down at Macy’s?”

Buck’s breath stops, heart beating so fast he can hear it. Markus chuckles, “It’s cute how bad at lying you are, Ev.”

“Hey, man, don’t-” He tries, but Markus is around the counter now, trapping him in his place. It’s not the first time Markus has done this; once a few weeks back he’d pulled the same move, and he freaked Buck out so much he closed the shop early. A pretty kid, he’d called Buck, I bet you’re even prettier when you cry.

Buck shudders at the memory, and thinks about vaulting over the counter, running for the door. They’re just words, but they feel like a lot more when Markus is here, staring at him darkly in an empty store.

“Markus, you really shouldn’t be back here-”

“Ev.” Markus cuts in sharply, “We both know I don’t care about that.”

Buck gasps, lungs suffocating as his heart rate skyrockets, “Please.”

“Shh,” Markus says, running a hand down Buck’s arm and gripping tight when Buck tries to move away, “I’m not going to hurt you tonight.”

“Tonight?” Buck chokes out, vision blurring with panic.

“Not tonight.” Markus repeats, “I just wanted to see you.”

Buck doesn’t know what to make of that, squeezing his eyes tight and holding on hope for the bell to ring, for someone to come in an interrupt whatever this is.

A hand touches his hair and he tries to pull back, but the grip is still tight on his arm. “Just as soft as I imagined.” Markus says to himself, and Buck has the sudden urge to vomit.

Without warning Markus withdrawals all at once and Buck stumbles, hitting his hip hard on the edge of the desk, breath still caught in his throat.

“I’ll be seeing you, Ev.” Markus says as he leaves, throwing one last comment over his shoulder, “Oh, and tell your sister I said hi.” He grins, something ugly and cruel to it, and then he’s gone, and Buck is alone.

It’s the shot of pain that blooms from his knees that make Buck realize he’s collapsed, harsh hyperventilating gasps rattling his chest as he grips tightly the area Markus has likely bruised. 

Buck’s not stupid, he knows this is bad, knows from a short stint of true crime fixation that Markus is escalating, and he needs to tell someone before it gets worse. But Buck also knows his sister kidnapped him in the eyes of the law, that authorities will only lead him back to his parents, might get his sister thrown in jail, just for caring about him and Buck-

Buck knows how to endure.

___

It’s been a few weeks, and Maddie’s concerns only grow more with every passing day. Buck’s been more withdrawn than she’s ever seen him, his appetite decreasing and his restless sleeping can be heard from the couch. 

She tried to impose what Bobby had told her, but one stern remark and Buck’s faraway stare breaks her before she can push the matter further. She’s been wondering about depression, thinking of her mother and her grief that never left, the darkness of one tragedy eating away until nothing was left. She thinks about doctors and paperwork and questions she can’t answer, questions she won’t answer. Maddie thinks and thinks and thinks, but all she’s left with is the same starting place and the same helplessness that threatens her resolve every passing minute.

Maddie is halfway through tying her apron when she realizes Buck still hasn’t come down yet, and she makes her way up the stairs.

She finds him sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it might give him answers if he looks long enough. His foot bounces so hard the whole mattress shakes.

“Hey,” she says cautiously, “You okay?”

He stills, his foot stopping. “You’re going to the diner tonight?”

“Yeah, they’re still pretty shortstaffed without Rose, and she’s not due to come back for a few more weeks.” She says, unease curling in her chest, and she sits next to him. “Hey. What’s going on?”

His jaw tightens. “It’s nothing. You should go, you’ll be late.” 

“Buck-”

“I’m serious,” he says, standing abruptly. “It’s nothing, just go.”

“Buck,” She says, something heavy in her heart, “I can stay, y’know, it’s not like I’ve ever called out before, they’ll understand.”

For a split second, he looks so young.

“No,” he says. “No, you shouldn’t stay.”

Maddie takes a step closer. “Buck, if something’s wrong-”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he says sharply, backing away. “Go to work, Mads, I’ll be here when you get back.”

“No.” She says, watching him go startled at her clear refusal. “No, I’m not leaving, not until I know what’s going on.”

“There isn’t-”

“Say there’s nothing one more time I swear to god, Evan-” She stops, taking a deep breath. “Whatever is happening, someone harassing you, or feelings you can’t handle, or just plain teenage hormones, I want to know Evan, I need to know, because when I didn’t know someone hurt you and I can’t-” Maddie stops as the tears well, a sob trapped in her throat, “My heart can’t take it, if something were to ever happen to you, I would never forgive myself.” Maddie gasps out.

“Maddie.” Buck says, tears streaming down his cheeks. “What happened, with mom and dad, that wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have known!” Maddie shouts, her own tears matching Buck’s, “I should have known you couldn’t have caused all those injuries by yourself, I was so focused on Doug I didn’t realize what was going on and you had to live in that house, and I’ll always be sorry for that-”

Buck cuts her off with a hug, a tight all encompassing one, one she feels in her bones, and she hugs him equally as tight, and they stand there for long enough that if she goes to work she’ll definitely be late now.

“I can’t lose you.” She whispers out.

“You’re not losing me,” He whispers back, “I’m a fungus you’re never getting rid of.”

Maddie laughs through the tears, pulling back and wiping her face. Buck mimics her and collapses back on the bed, seeming a tad lighter.

“If you can’t tell me yet,” Maddie says softly, “Can you at least promise to tell me when you can?”

Buck stares at her, still conflicted but raw from the tears. “Ok.” He whispers. “I will, I’ll tell you everything, just- please, not right now.”

“I love you.” She says, “So much.”

Buck wrinkles his nose, “Now you’re just being gross.”

“Soo much.” She exaggerates, taking advantage of Buck being shorter than her for once and ruffling his hair. Buck screeches, batting her hand away, and it only takes a few moments ‘til they’re play-fighting like kids, both of them giggling and out of breath as they lay side by side.

“You should go, you can still make your shift.” Buck says softly, and Maddie tenses.

“Evan-”

“I’ll be okay.” He says, “Just- can we keep the store closed tonight?” 

Maddie’s heart breaks, and in that moment she resolves to never make him work a shift alone again. “Of course. I’ll lock up downstairs, you just stay up here tonight ok?” He nods, and Maddie fixes her hair in the mirror, washing her face to try and hide the after effects of crying.

As she makes for the door, Buck calls out, “Hey Mads?”

She turns, “Yeah?”

“I love you too.” He says, and Maddie melts. 

___

Besides a mild scolding from her boss, Maddie’s night goes as usual. It’s slightly busier due to it being a saturday night, a few drunks wandering in and being too loud, but nothing breaks, and they gave her a nice tip so she considers the night successful. 

Her mind wanders to Buck between customers, but she shakes herself out of it, reminding herself she locked the doors and Buck’s probably playing some video game on his ancient gameboy. It nags at her still, however, and she pleads with her boss to let her leave early, a hard thing to swing when she’s already showed up late, but Tim is a sweet older man and relents when he hears her concern for her baby brother. Her mind settles with the knowledge that she only has an hour left, resolved to fix whatever’s been bugging Buck, already thinking of what movie to put on to get him out of his funk. 

She’s refilling coffee when she notices people at the front of the diner pressed against the windows, worried murmurs taking the place where casual conversation was. 

“Something going on outside?” She asks, trying to glance around the patrons to see. A firetruck siren comes from off in the distance, growing louder as it speeds past the diner, stopping close enough to ring alarm bells in Maddie’s mind.

“There’s something on fire,” A woman says to Maddie’s right, “I think it’s that old bookshop down the way, it’s going up like a tinderbox.”

Maddie doesn’t feel the hot coffee that splashes on her when she drops the pot, nor does she hear the shouts and questions that follow as she runs out the door, her feet carrying her faster than her car ever could as she sees the bright light down the street. Everything feels so fast and so slow and she can’t breathe but she can taste the smoke in her lungs as she pushes past the people crowding around, sliding past a police officer that shouts, but she doesn’t hear what he says, can only move towards the shop, that’s burning, snaps of wood louder than her heartbeat, making for the front door before something stops her, and she jerks, hard, something ripping in her shoulder but she pushes past it, she needs to, she needs to- 

“Maddie!” And it’s Bobby’s voice, cutting through the chaos, and startling her back in her body, and she can hear the sirens and the people around her shouting and none of it fucking matters-

Bobby stands in front of her gripping her shoulders hard when she moves towards the door again. A distant part of her brain registers that he’s in full turnout gear. A closer part of her brain reminds her that’s not what’s important right now. 

“You can’t go in.” He says, and Maddie shakes her head.

“No,” She says or at least she thinks she does, trying to go around Bobby, and stomping in frustration when he stops her, “No, no, I have to- I have to go in-”

“Maddie.” Bobby says and Maddie’s focus shifts back to him, “Your brother, is he-”

“Inside,” She whimpers, “Please, he’s my baby brother, please-” She jerks in his arms, “Please I have to go inside! I won’t leave him, Bobby I can’t-”

“Listen to me,” He says urgently, shaking her shoulders when she pulls away, “Listen to me! I will get him, I promise, Maddie, I will get him out but you cannot go in there.”

She’s shaking, tears blurring her vision, and she can’t breathe and Buck- “You don’t understand-”

“I do,” he says, fiercely, “God forgive me, I do.”

Maddie quiets, a puppet with its strings cut. “Please.”

“I swear to you,” He says, squeezing her hand and putting his mask on, “I will bring him back to you.”

Then he turns and runs straight into the smoke, and all Maddie can do is stand there, a nearby paramedic trying to bring her to the ambulance, another bringing a shock blanket over, but Maddie is frozen, stuck in the spot she’s in, and she knows if Buck doesn’t make it out she will be frozen in this moment forever, staring into the flames of every mistake she’s made that led to this. And she knows, suddenly and achingly and oh so cruelly what her mother felt when Daniel died. 

A figure pushes out of clouds of flame, and Bobby stands, coughing and soot-ridden, cradling someone wrapped in his turncoat, and time restarts as Maddie sprints, running past a firefighter that shouts at her to stop, as if there was a force on this earth that could stop the momentum of her soul.

Bobby carries him towards her, kneeling as his lungs give out, and Maddie hits the ground with no thought of her knees, and Bobby pulls the coat away enough for Maddie to finally see him, see Buck, breathing wheezily into Bobby’s mask, unconscious, bleeding, skin reddened and blistered, but breathing, and Maddie sobs out holding him, turncoat and all, to her chest as she sobs a thank you out. 

Someone brings Bobby oxygen and then they’re turning towards them, and Maddie has to force herself not to cling onto Buck as he’s pulled away, vitals taken, a gurney rolled out and Buck placed on top of it, Maddie not willing to leave his side for a moment, getting into the ambulance with him before they can even offer.

“Is he-” She gets out as the paramedic starts a line, “Is he going to be okay?”

The woman can’t be much older than her, now that Maddie has the wherewithal to notice, giving Maddie a sympathetic look as she gets the IV in Buck’s arm. The motion drags the coat, it falling away and showing nothing underneath besides blisters and scrapes but no clothes, and Maddie’s brain scrambles to figure out why that’s important but too scattered to piece it together.

“He has a concussion, smoke inhalation, and a couple dozen second degree burns,” The woman says quietly, “I can’t say for certain, but he has strong vitals besides his oxygen levels, and he’s young. He should be able to bounce back from this.”

Maddie grips Buck’s hand trying to learn how to slow her own heartbeat.

“You're his sister right? Is there anything we should know about his medical history?” She gently prods.

“Naproxen.” Maddie says automatically, “He’s allergic to naproxen.”

“Any lung conditions, like asthma?”

“No, no,” Maddie breathes out, “No lung conditions.”

“That’s good,” She says, “I’ll let the doctors know. Once we get to the hospital he’ll be well taken care of.” She tries to assure, but all it does is make Maddie’s blood run cold.

Hospital.

Paperwork. Records. Questions about parents, guardians, addresses. All the things they’ve been avoiding for three years.

She looks down at Buck, small, shaking, alive, and knows that there’s no other way out, not now.

___

The hospital smells like antiseptic and lysol, a clean sharpness that doesn’t quite cover the smoke still clinging to Maddie’s clothes.

Buck is taken back quickly, words fly past her in clipped phrases, nurses efficient and kind in that practiced way that doesn’t ask questions you don’t have answers for yet. Maddie signs what she can, hands shaking so badly she has to steady herself against the counter.

She doesn’t let go of Buck’s hand until they make her.

The walls grey out around her, the sounds of beeping machines and ringing phones circling her until she’s surrounded, trapped, imprisoned. She tones out, her mind empty and her body numb. Distantly, her shoulder throbs.

The smell of coffee jars her senses, and she looks up to Bobby, still in a soot covered uniform, holding a cup in front of her with soft eyes. 

“Bobby.” She exhales, taking the cup with shaking fingers but putting it aside to hug him. He stills under her for a moment before hugging back, a careful hold like he’s scared she’s going to shatter if he presses too hard, and she doesn’t blame him, feeling like she’ll crack at the slightest pressure. “Thank you.” She cries, “Thank you.”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, you’re okay, you’re both okay,” He soothes, and Maddie pulls away but isn’t able to stop her tears, sure that they’ll be flowing for years.

“What happened?” She gets out, desperation tinging her words, and Bobby winces. 

“Why don’t we sit down?” He says, guiding her gently to the chair, taking the one next to her. Once she’s sitting he breathes out, a cough interrupting him.

“I don’t know all the details yet,” He rasps, “When we got the call, it was just smoke the neighbor had reported but by the time we got there it was already engulfed. Theory is all the books and the dry weather caused the fire to spread rapidly.”

“And?” Maddie prompts, and Bobby makes a complicated face, dragging a hand down his face before sighing.

“The start of the fire is estimated to have happened on the first floor, at the back of the shop,” He pauses.

“What are you afraid to say?” Maddie pleads, “I need to know, please.”

Bobby looks at her, something angry and sad in his eyes, but mostly just looking resigned. “We found Buck near the source of the fire, unconscious. From what we could tell, it looked like arson.”

“What? What are you saying? That Buck started-”

“No.” Bobby cuts through, “Not at all. Maddie,” Bobby takes a moment, “It would probably be best for you to hear it from the doctor, or policemen.”

“Just tell me.” Maddie grits out, something in her eyes making Bobby sigh, and nod.

“Buck was naked, and bruised when we found him, it looked- it looked like someone hurt him, and set the fire to hide the evidence.” Bobby says, evenly, like it pained him to do so.

Maddie’s head pounds, “Hurt him.”

“I think,” Bobby says as Maddie tries to wrap her mind around the words, “It would best, when the police ask, to give them the name of that man you were worried about.”

“Oh god,” and it’s tiny, like Maddie is, so small in a situation so big and Buck is- “Oh god- I can’t-”

Bobby must recognize the signs because he flags a nurse down and has the basin in front of her before the first wave hits, and she vomits, gagging with tears still streaming down her face.

When there’s nothing left, a nurse takes away the basin and Bobby brings her water, advising her to take small sips.

“I didn’t protect him.” She whispers. “I knew something was wrong, and I didn’t protect him.”

“This wasn’t your fault, Maddie,” Bobby says gently, “Whoever this person was, they broke in, there were signs of a broken lock at the scene. You couldn’t have known.”

“I should’ve. I should’ve stayed.”

“You can’t know if that would have changed anything. Most likely, it would mean I would have had to drag your body out of there too.”

Maddie puts her face in her hands, feeling completely undone. “What am I going to do?”

“Let’s just focus on the first steps, and go from there.” Bobby suggests, “Find a hotel, get some rest, and be there for your brother when he wakes up.”

Maddie shakes her head, “I don’t-everything we owed was in that fire, Bobby, everything. I don’t have the money for a hotel.”

Bobby pauses, “Well, the insurance company-”

“The shop’s not in my name,” Maddie gasps out, “We couldn’t have anything tying us to our real names.”

Bobby’s brow wrinkles in confusion, and Maddie has lost too much to keep it a secret any longer.

“We’re runaways,” she explains, “From our parents, or at least he is.”

“They hurt him,” She continues as his eyes connect all the dots of her messing life, “Buck was always a clumsy kid, and he used to do dangerous stuff for attention, so I just thought-” She shakes her head, “I was visiting, it was my third year of college, and my boyfriend at the time was hinting towards proposal, and I knew if that happened I wouldn’t be able to go home as often, and I wanted to see Buck.” 

She sniffs as more tears well, “He had a broken arm, and bruises all over his face, and mom made some stupid excuse, a bike riding accident or something, and I just believed it.” Maddie lets out a humorless laugh, “I didn’t even question it. Then that night, Buck came in my room and he was so upset-” 

Maddie breathes harshly, “He told me the truth, about how our father had been beating him for years, how mom knew and covered it up. He pleaded with me to take him away and I- I didn’t even think, just grabbed him and a suitcase of clothes and started driving.”

They sit in relative quiet as Bobby digests this, his expression hard to read, “You’re afraid if this goes through the system they’ll take him away.”

 “If CPS gets involved, if this turns into a whole investigation- they’ll know I’m not his legal guardian, they’ll give him back to my parents.” Maddie looks skyward, but she has no more tears to give.

Bobby’s hands clench at his sides like he’s holding back a thousand things he wants to say.

“No one is taking Buck away from you.” Bobby declares, determination overtaking his mournful features.

Maddie looks up at him, struck between feeling like laughing and feeling like crawling into a deep hole and never coming out. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” he says. “Because I won’t let it happen.”

She shakes her head. “You can’t promise that.”

“I can,” Bobby says, “I know some good lawyers, and a few judges that owe me favors. I’ll get you both out of this.”

She stares at him for a moment, uncomprehendingly. “Why are you helping us?” she asks. “You barely know us.”

Bobby’s expression softens, something deeply human breaking through that firefighter’s calm, “Because you both suffered because of a flawed system, and that should have never happened. And because Buck deserves to feel safe.” He hesitates, then adds, “So do you.”

A nurse appears at the end of the hall. “Maddie? Dr. Molina would like to have a word with you.”

Maddie wipes her face, nodding. She turns back to Bobby, voice trembling but fierce. “What about the man who hurt him?”

“He’ll be dealt with,” Bobby says firmly. “One way or the other, I won’t let him near either of you again.”

She squeezes his hand and lets go, steeling nerves long lost as she follows the nurse, knowing that, for the first time in a very long time, she has someone to watch her back. 

___

Dr. Molina is a short older woman that radiates warmth in a way that feels almost juxtaposed with the topic at hand.

“I’d like to start by saying that I’m confident that your brother will make a full recovery.” She says, and Maddie sags in her chair with relief, forcing herself not to cry again, “Thank god,” She whispers out.

“The burns are all fairly superficial. A bit of burn cream and aloe should be enough to heal all of them fine enough to not leave a scar, but they’ll be uncomfortable for a few weeks and should start peeling. The concussion and smoke inhalation were more severe, but we’ve been able to bring up his oxygen levels and he regained consciousness briefly, but we will need to keep him overnight to rule out any brain injuries.”

Maddie takes it in, heart plummeting at brain injury but knowing there’s more to brace for.

Dr. Molina takes off her glasses at this point, and sets aside the report. “Now, for the reason I had you come in here. While examining your brother, something came up that requires your permission to continue treatment.”

Maddie nods, knowing what’s coming and hoping she’s wrong, that she misunderstood Bobby’s implications.

Dr. Molina holds only sympathy and kindness in her eyes, “I wish there was an easier way to deliver this news, but there isn’t. There’s evidence of sexual assault-”

Maddie gasps out, clenching her heart as she shakes, unable to keep the tears at bay. Dr. Molina quietly passes her tissues, not continuing until Maddie breathes.

“We would like your permission for a SAFE kit, as well as an STI panel.”

“God,” Maddie sobs, “Yes, please, do what you think is best, I-” Maddie looks up at the doctor, eyes red and raw from hours of crying, most likely blotchy and ragged looking. “Can I see him? Please?”

Dr. Molina’s expression softens even further. “Of course,” She says gently. “You can see him. He’s still pretty out of it, and he may not remember everything clearly when he wakes up, but hearing a familiar voice can help.”

Maddie nods, wiping her face again even though it feels pointless. She signs the consent forms with steadier hands than she expects- because this, at least, she can do. 

The walk down the hall feels endless. Every step is heavy with guilt and fear, but the need to see her brother, alive and in one piece, surpasses any other feeling that ricochets throughout her being.

The room is dim when she enters. Machines hum softly, monitors blinking in calm, steady rhythms. Buck lies in the bed, smaller somehow, swallowed by white sheets and hospital rails. His curls are singed at the ends, skin pinked and bandaged in places, an oxygen cannula resting beneath his nose.

For a moment, Maddie can’t move, and then she’s at his side, her body moving faster than her mind, fingers trembling as they hover over his hand before finally settling there, warm and real and so amazingly alive.

“Oh, Buck,” She whispers, voice breaking. “I’m here, I’m right here.”

His brow furrows faintly, lashes fluttering. His grip tightens around her fingers just a little, like muscle memory kicking in before consciousness fully follows.

“You’re okay,” She murmurs, leaning closer. “You don’t have to do anything. Just rest.”

She presses her forehead to his knuckles and feels the warmth of his skin against hers. 

“I’m so sorry,” She whispers, for everything: Markus, the fire, their parents, for not trusting her instincts, “I should’ve kept you safer. But I promise- this part? I’ve got you. No one is ever hurting you again. I swear.”

Buck shifts, a soft sound leaving him, somewhere between a sigh and a whimper. His head turns slightly toward her voice.

“Mads…?” It’s barely audible.

Her heart lurches, “Yeah, Buck, It’s me.”

His eyes crack open, unfocused and glassy. Confusion flickers there, fear too as his heart monitor ramps up, until he sees her and he sags. ““Maddie.” He says, like he didn’t expect her to be here. “Maddie, the shop-”

“Forget the shop,” Maddie interrupts, “The only important thing that was in there is right in front of me.”

Buck’s eyes well up, tears falling down, “I tried to stop him.” He whispers.

“I know,” Maddie says back, “I know you did everything you could. It’s going to be okay, Evan, just try to get some rest, please.”

“You’ll be here?” He asks, as if Maddie wouldn’t bleed herself dry for him.

“Always.” She promises, “I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

His eyes drift shut again, exhaustion pulling him under, but his grip doesn’t loosen. If anything, it tightens, like he’s anchoring himself to her.

Outside the room, Maddie knows there will be questions. Police. Paperwork. Doctors and lawyers and painful truths laid bare. 

But that’s outside. Inside it’s just her and her brother, two siblings against the world, like it always has been, and always will be.