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Eddie Diaz was gay.

It had taken him long enough to piece it together — why things with women always fell apart, why those sharp, overwhelming feelings hit him whenever he crossed paths with an attractive man. Mostly Buck, if he was being honest. He’d finally untangled the knot he’d been carrying around for years. He was gay. He could say it now.

Some credit probably went to the hot priest. And really, the fact that he’d been calling Father Brian the hot priest should’ve been a flashing neon sign, but Eddie had never pretended to be the quickest study when it came to his own emotions.

He had to hand some of the credit to Frank. His therapist, who — and Eddie would never stop being annoyed at the pun — had quite frankly dismantled him and then put him back together properly. Frank was the one who’d delivered the metaphorical smack upside the head and told him to get his act together. 

But honestly, the moment of truth happened at wine night, sprawled on Karen and Hen’s couch while he was wine‑drunk and apparently in the mood to recite love sonnets about Buck to Buck’s sister. Maddie was there. Karen was there. Athena was there. Hen popped in on her nights off.

It was the one night a month where he dropped the whole “serious dad” thing — Chris safe at home with Buck — and fully embraced being one of the girls.

Tonight, Eddie Diaz was gay.

He was also, unfortunately, spectacularly drunk.

“You don’t understand. His eyes are like… tiny oceans,” Eddie declared, for what had to be the fifth time in five minutes. He was on a roll. A very Buck‑centric roll.

“Sweetheart, Buck’s eyes are not oceans,” Karen said gently, swirling her wine.

“That’s fine,” Eddie said, nodding sagely. “I don’t like oceans anyway. The ocean tried to steal Buck and Chris. Rude.”

He was pouting. He knew he was pouting. He also didn’t care.

“Ah‑ah,” Athena scolded gently. “No trauma talk at wine night. Eddie, we’ve talked about this.”

“Sorry, Thena,” Eddie sighed, instantly chastened.

The rule existed for a reason. Collectively, they had enough trauma to fill a library, and while talking about trauma was incredibly healthy — Eddie was a therapy guy now, thank you very much — wine night was sacred. A designated no‑trauma bubble. Only joy, nonsense, and questionable decisions allowed.

“His eyes are so pretty, though. Have you seen them?” Eddie asked Maddie. 

Maddie was nearly as drunk as Eddie. She’d finally wrapped up breastfeeding Nash and could drink again, but her tolerance was nonexistent. So even with half the alcohol Eddie had downed, she was matching his energy beat for beat. 

“They’re great eyes,” Maddie agreed, raising her glass. “But trust me, they were even brighter when he was a kid. He was ridiculously cute. Like, unfairly cute.” 

“He’s still unfairly cute. And hot. And handsome—”

A pillow smacked him in the face before he could finish.

“We are not spending the entire night listening to you swoon over Buck,” Athena declared. “You’re in love with him. We all know. Why doesn’t he?”

“Seriously,” Karen chimed in. “Sort out your tiny gay meltdown and confess already.”

“It’s not that simple,” Eddie said, lower lip jutting out in a pout that absolutely belonged on a five‑year‑old.

“Of course it is,” Karen shot back. “Hen and I figured it out just fine. Maddie and Chim, too.”

“And Bobby and I,” Athena chimed in. “Don’t forget Bobby and me.”

“You guys suck,” Eddie grumbled, pouting so hard it almost hurt.

His brain was mush. There was no witty comeback hiding in there. He just wanted to gush about Buck in peace. Was that so unreasonable? He hadn’t even made it past Buck’s eyes yet.

“Come on, Eddie, it’s not that scary. You could totally do it,” Maddie said, tipsy but sincere.

Eddie felt a wave of gratitude wash over him. Even drunk, he knew she meant it. 

“You just need a plan,” Karen said, slurring only a little.

“Yes! That’s it,” Maddie said, pointing at her like she’d solved world peace. “We already know Buck loves you, too.”

“We do?” Eddie asked, perking up instantly — the same way he reacted to the word Buck every single time. He didn’t know whether to blame conditioning, desperation, or Buck’s stupid face.

“Yes, Eddie,” Maddie said, rolling her eyes affectionately. “I’m Buck’s sister. I would know.”

She said it like she hadn’t just casually upended his entire existence.

“I’m pro‑plan,” Athena said, “but what does this plan actually involve? Nothing illegal, right?”

“Oh, the only illegal thing is Eddie’s ridiculous puppy eyes,” Karen said. “They activate instantly whenever Buck looks at him. It’s embarrassing.”

Eddie felt vaguely attacked. Sure, his eyes were pathetic — maybe — but that wasn’t on him. That was on Buck. Entirely Buck’s fault. Obviously. 

“Eddie, are you in?” Maddie asked, practically vibrating with excitement. 

“What if it doesn’t work?” Eddie blurted. Drunk or not, the anxiety gremlin in his brain was alive and thriving. 

“Of course it’ll work,” Karen said, waving her glass like a wand. “I designed it. It’s basically foolproof.” 

“Okay then,” Eddie agreed, and threw back the rest of his wine.

Athena refilled his glass before he even set it down. The woman was terrifyingly efficient.

Eddie set his glass down with a dramatic little thunk, like he’d just agreed to storm a castle instead of… confess his feelings to his best friend. Eddie would argue that storming a castle would probably be easier. 

“Alright!” Karen clapped, far too loudly for the size of the living room. “Operation Tell Buck You’re In Love With Him is officially underway.”

“That is not the name,” Athena said immediately.

“It is now,” Karen insisted.

Maddie gasped. “Wait—wait, no. I have a better one. Operation… Buckle Up.”

Karen stared at her. “Because… Buck?”

“Yes,” Maddie said proudly.

“That’s terrible,” Athena muttered.

“It’s amazing,” Eddie whispered, because everything was amazing right now. Or spinning. Hard to tell. He probably needed to slow down. 

Hen wandered in from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn, took one look at the scene, and sighed like she’d walked into a sitcom she absolutely had not signed a contract for. She must’ve just gotten back from dropping the kids off with her mother, which meant she was stone‑cold sober.

That was unacceptable.

Eddie squinted at her with the solemnity of a man who had made many, many poor choices tonight and was prepared to make several more.

“Hen,” he said, pointing at her like she was a problem he intended to solve. “You’re behind.”

Hen raised an eyebrow. “Behind what?”

Maddie gasped dramatically. “Behind us.”

Karen nodded, swirling her wine like she was conducting a spell. “You need to catch up, babe. It’s a requirement.”

Athena sighed. “It is not a requirement.”

“It is tonight,” Eddie declared, which would’ve sounded authoritative if he hadn’t been slumped sideways on the couch like a Victorian woman fainting on a chaise lounge.

Hen looked at him, then at the others, then at the bottle on the coffee table.

“Lord, give me strength,” she muttered, and handed the popcorn to Athena before grabbing a glass.

The room erupted in cheers.

Hen took a sip, winced, and glared at him. “This is your fault.”

Eddie nodded proudly. “Most things are.”

Karen snorted so hard she nearly spilled her wine. “At least he knows.”

“He’s very self‑aware when he’s drunk.” Maddie leaned against Eddie’s shoulder, giggling.

Athena topped off Hen’s glass with the same terrifying efficiency she’d used on Eddie. “Welcome to the madness.”

Hen sighed again, but she didn’t leave. She just took another sip.

Eddie grinned, triumphant. “Now we can plan properly.”

“Plan what?” Hen asked. “What did I miss?”

“Eddie’s in love with Buck,” Karen announced.

Hen blinked. “Yes, and…?”

“And we’re making a plan,” Maddie said, pointing at Eddie like he was a contestant on a game show.

Hen nodded slowly. “Okay. And how drunk are we?”

“Very,” Athena answered for all of them.

Hen sat down. “Alright. Continue.”

Karen leaned forward, elbows on her knees, eyes sparkling with the kind of chaotic determination that should’ve been a warning sign. “Step one: Eddie stops being a coward.”

“Hey,” Eddie protested weakly.

“Sweetheart, you’re adorable, but you’re also a coward,” Karen said, patting his knee.

Maddie nodded solemnly. “A very cute coward.”

Athena raised her glass. “The cutest.”

Eddie groaned and covered his face with both hands. “Why are you all like this?”

“Because we love you,” Maddie said, leaning against him. “And because watching you pine is exhausting.”

Hen then decided to throw a piece of popcorn at his head. 

Eddie watched it arc through the air in slow motion, like it was a tragic scene in a nature documentary. A single kernel bounced off his shoulder and fell to the couch cushion beside him.

He stared at it.

He would’ve eaten that.

He felt a little sad about it. Deeply sad. Existentially sad. The kind of sad that only hit when he was wine‑drunk and emotionally compromised.

“That was good popcorn,” he muttered, looking betrayed.

Hen blinked. “Eddie… there’s a whole bowl.”

“It’s not the same,” Eddie insisted, scooping up the fallen kernel and holding it like it was a fallen comrade. “This one had a journey.”

Karen snorted. “Oh my god, he’s eulogising popcorn.”

Maddie leaned over, squinting at the kernel in his hand. “It does look a little sad.”

Athena sighed. “Put the popcorn down, Eddie.”

“Right… Back to the plan,” Karen steered them back on track. 

“Seriously. Watching the two of you pine after each other is like watching a bad soap opera, but slower,” Hen continued to tease. 

Eddie peeked out between his fingers. “I’m not that bad.”

All four women said, in perfect unplanned harmony:

“YES YOU ARE.”

Eddie flinched. “Okay! Okay. Fine. Maybe. A little.”

“A lot,” Athena corrected.

“Fine. I’ve got it. Step one: stop being a coward. Say that’s possible, what’s next?” Eddie said, accepting his fate.

Karen snapped her fingers. “Step two: you flirt.”

Eddie blinked. “I do flirt.”

“No, honey,” Maddie said gently. “You stare. That’s not flirting. That’s… longing.”

Hen nodded. “It’s very Jane Austen of you.”

Eddie frowned. “Is that bad?”

“It’s slow,” Athena said. “Painfully slow.”

Karen leaned in again, eyes bright with mischief. “So. You flirt. Real flirting. Words. Smiling. Maybe a compliment that isn’t about his eyes being a marine ecosystem.”

Eddie blinked at her, slow and owlish. He could feel his brain trying to process that sentence and failing spectacularly. Flirting. Real flirting. With Buck. Using words.

Words were hard.

Words were impossible when Buck was involved.

He opened his mouth, then shut it again. His thoughts were sloshing around like loose change in a dryer.

He flirted. He totally flirted. Didn’t he?

…did he?

He frowned, trying to replay every interaction he’d ever had with Buck, which was a terrible idea because it was like opening a firehose of feelings directly into his face. Every smile, every touch, every stupidly soft moment—yeah, okay, maybe he didn’t flirt. Maybe he just… stared. A lot. With intensity. And yearning. And the emotional subtlety of a heroine pressed against a rain‑soaked window.

He winced. 

Oh well. 

“They ARE tiny oceans though,” he defends himself. 

“NO,” all four women said.

Eddie slumped. “Fine.”

Karen snapped her fingers again, like she was unveiling a master plan. “So. You flirt. Real flirting.” 

Real flirting. Eddie’s stomach swooped. He could barely flirt with a barista. He once forgot how to say the word “latte.” And Buck wasn’t a barista. Buck was… Buck. Buck with the smile that made Eddie’s chest feel too small. Buck with the eyes that absolutely were tiny oceans, no matter what anyone said. Buck, who made Eddie’s brain short‑circuit so violently, he was amazed he hadn’t walked into traffic. 

Real flirting sounded like a death sentence.

He swallowed hard.

“…Define flirting,” he said.

The women groaned in perfect, exasperated harmony.

Karen clapped her hands together like a coach about to run drills. “Alright, Eddie. We’re teaching you how to flirt.”

Eddie’s stomach dropped. Oh no. Oh no. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t even ready to be taught how to be ready.

Maddie scooted closer, eyes bright with tipsy determination. “Okay. Start simple. Compliment me.”

Eddie blinked. Compliment Maddie. Easy. He could do that. Probably. Maybe. His brain scrambled like eggs.

He cleared his throat. “Uh… you have… hair.”

Maddie stared at him.

Hen choked on her wine.

Athena put her face in her hands.

Karen wheezed, “Oh my god, he’s hopeless.”

Eddie winced. “I panicked.”

Maddie patted his knee. “Okay. Let’s try again. Something Buck would like to hear.”

That was worse. That was so much worse. His brain immediately flooded with a thousand things he wanted to say to Buck — too many, too honest, too much.

He swallowed. “Your… smile is… nice?”

Maddie blinked. “That’s… not terrible.”

Hen shook her head. “It’s terrible.”

Athena nodded. “It’s very terrible.”

Eddie groaned and slumped sideways. “I’m bad at this.”

Karen snapped her fingers. “New tactic. Practice on Hen.”

Hen raised an eyebrow. “Why me?”

“Because you’re the least likely to encourage him,” Karen said.

Hen sighed. “Fine. Go ahead, Eddie. Flirt.”

Eddie sat up straighter, trying to look confident. He failed immediately. His brain was a blank page. A blank page on fire.

He pointed at Hen. “You… have… strong… arms?”

Hen stared at him like he’d just confessed to a crime. “Eddie. I’m a firefighter. Of course I have strong arms.”

Eddie nodded vigorously. “Exactly. See? Compliment.”

Hen took a long drink. “This is painful.”

Karen groaned. “Okay, okay, new plan. Athena. He respects Athena. Maybe that’ll help.”

Athena crossed her arms. “Alright, Diaz. Impress me.”

Eddie swallowed. His palms were sweating. Why were his palms sweating? This wasn’t Buck. This was Athena. Athena, who terrified him in a comforting way.

He opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

Athena raised an eyebrow. “Any day now.”

Eddie blurted, “You’re very… authoritative.”

Karen slapped her forehead.

Maddie burst out laughing.

Hen whispered, “Oh my god.”

Athena blinked once. Twice. Then sighed. “Sweetheart, that is not flirting. That is… an observation.”

“Maybe it’s not working because we are women,” Karen added. “Maybe he can flirt better with men. He is gay after all.”

Eddie groaned and flopped back against the couch cushions. “I can’t do this. I’m going to die alone.”

Maddie grabbed his face between her hands, squishing his cheeks. “You are NOT dying alone. You are confessing to my brother.”

Karen nodded. “And you’re going to flirt. Badly. But you’re going to do it.”

Hen tossed popcorn at him again. “And Buck’s going to eat it up because he’s already in love with you.”

Athena refilled his glass. “Now drink. You’ll need the courage.”

“Okay, so maybe the flirting stage needs a little work,” Karen observed. “We will just move on to step three.”

“What’s step three?” Eddie asked. He had a feeling it was probably going to be a trainwreck. 

Maddie squeezed his arm. “Step three: you ask him out.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide, pupils dilating like someone had just shone a flashlight directly into his soul. “Like… on a date?”

Karen stared at him, deadpan. “Yes, Eddie. That is generally what asking someone out means.”

Eddie swallowed hard. His throat felt tight. His palms were sweaty. His brain was screaming.

A date. With Buck. Buck, who made his heart do gymnastics. Buck, who made him forget how to breathe. Buck, whom he’d been in love with for so long it felt like part of his DNA.

“What if he says no?” Eddie asked, voice small.

Maddie shook her head immediately. “He won’t.”

Eddie wanted to believe her. God, he wanted to. But the anxiety gremlin in his chest was doing cartwheels now.

Hen shrugged, casual as anything. “And if he does, we’ll kill him.”

Athena pointed a stern finger at her. “No murder talk at wine night.”

Hen sighed dramatically. “Fine. We’ll… emotionally intimidate him.”

Athena nodded. “Much better.”

Karen leaned forward, as if about to unveil a PowerPoint. “Okay. We’re teaching you how to do this. Properly.”

Properly. Eddie wasn’t sure he’d ever done anything properly in his entire romantic life.

Maddie clapped her hands. “We’ll give examples! That’ll help.”

Eddie doubted that very much, but he nodded anyway because resisting them was pointless.

Karen went first, because of course she did. “Hen asked me out by accident.”

Hen groaned. “Oh my god, Karen—”

“No, no, it’s relevant,” Karen insisted. “She was trying to ask if I wanted to grab dinner, but she panicked halfway through and said, ‘Do you want to go out with me?’”

Hen covered her face. “I misspoke.”

Karen grinned. “And I said yes. And then she panicked. And then I panicked. And then we kissed.”

Eddie blinked. “That sounds… chaotic.”

Karen pointed at him. “Exactly. Chaos works. You thrive in chaos.”

Eddie wasn’t sure if that was a compliment.

Maddie raised her hand like she was in class. “Okay, my turn. Chim asked me out by leaving a note that said, ‘Dinner?’ with a little smiley face. It was after months of karaoke not-dates.”

Eddie blinked. “That’s… cute.”

“It was adorable,” Maddie said proudly. “And then he pretended he didn’t write it because he got nervous, and I had to ask him if he meant it.”

Hen snorted. “That tracks.”

Athena cleared her throat. “Bobby asked me out like an adult.”

Everyone turned to her.

She shrugged. “He said, ‘Athena, I enjoy spending time with you. Would you like to have dinner with me?”

Karen groaned. “That’s so boring and responsible.”

Maddie sighed. “And unfairly healthy.”

Eddie stared at Athena like she’d just spoken in tongues. “You can just… say that?”

Athena patted his knee. “You can. You won’t. But you can.”

Eddie felt personally attacked.

Hen pointed at him. “Okay, Diaz. Your turn. How would you ask Buck out?”

Eddie’s brain immediately short‑circuited. His mouth went dry. His palms went sweaty. His heart tried to escape through his ribs.

He opened his mouth, and nothing came out.

Karen groaned. “Oh my god, he’s buffering.”

Maddie leaned in. “Try again. Pretend I’m Buck.”

Eddie looked at her. Maddie. His friend. Buck’s sister. Not Buck. Not even close to Buck. And yet his brain still screamed BUCK BUCK BUCK like a fire alarm.

He swallowed. “Uh… hey.”

“Good start.” Maddie nodded encouragingly.

Eddie tried again. “Do you… want to… maybe… go out sometime?”

Maddie gasped. “Eddie! That was actually good!”

“Shockingly good,” Hen complimented. If that could even be a compliment. 

Karen raised her glass. “Look at you! Using words!”

Athena nodded. “See? You can do this.”

Karen clapped her hands again, far too loudly for the size of the living room. “Alright, Eddie. Speech time. We’re rehearsing.”

Eddie’s stomach dropped. Speech. Oh god. He hadn’t prepared a speech. He hadn’t prepared anything. He could barely prepare toast.

Maddie scooted closer, eyes bright with tipsy determination. “Okay. Start with something simple. Something honest. Something Buck will melt over.”

Eddie tried to imagine Buck melting. Unfortunately, instead of picturing Buck looking at him with soft, heart‑stopping affection, his brain served up an image of Buck’s face stuck on an iceberg. He blamed the wine. And the fact that they’d watched Titanic earlier. Mostly the Titanic part.

Hen sighed. “Just… say what you feel.”

Eddie’s heart lurched. Absolutely not. That was a horrible idea. What was Hen thinking? What he felt was too much. Too big. Too loud. Too everything. Buck would run the other way screaming. 

Karen waved her wine glass like a conductor. “Okay, repeat after me: ‘Buck, I really like you.’”

Eddie swallowed. “Buck, I really—”

His voice cracked like a teenager’s. He thought he had gotten over puberty years ago. It must be the wine. 

“Oh, dear,” Athena winced.

Maddie patted his knee. “Try again. Softer. Less like you’re being held at gunpoint.”

What did it say about Eddie that, in this moment, he would genuinely rather be held at gunpoint? At least he knew how to handle that. That was something he had dealt with before. Multiple times. Unfortunately. 

Eddie took a breath. “Buck, I… really like you.”

Karen nodded. “Good! Now add something personal. Something sweet.”

Hen offered, “Maybe mention how much he means to you.”

Eddie’s brain immediately flooded with every soft moment he’d ever had with Buck. Too many. Too much. His brain was struggling to latch on to something specific. 

He tried anyway. “You mean… a lot to me. Like… a lot a lot.”

Karen snorted. “Okay, maybe not that.”

“He sounds like he’s confessing to a crush in middle school,” Athena said while shaking her head. 

Maddie beamed. “I know, and it’s adorable.”

Eddie groaned and buried his face in his hands. “I can’t do this. I sound stupid. I’m going to sound stupid. I’m going to ruin everything.”

Karen leaned forward. “You’re not going to ruin anything.”

Hen added, “You’re just drunk.”

Athena nodded. “Very drunk.”

Maddie squeezed his arm. “Which is why you’re practising.”

Eddie lifted his head, eyes wide and glassy. “No. No, I can’t practice. I have to tell him now.”

Now, Eddie hadn’t really thought anything through. His brain wasn’t… braining. Not properly. Not at all. It was doing that thing where thoughts slid around like loose marbles on a hardwood floor. So really, none of this was his fault.

But in that moment telling Buck right now felt like the most logical plan he had ever had in his entire life.

All four women froze.

Karen blinked. “Now?”

Eddie nodded vigorously, wine sloshing dangerously close to the rim of his glass. “Right now. If I wait, I’ll chicken out. I know myself. I’ll panic. I’ll hide. I’ll pretend I’m fine. I’ll— I’ll do the thing where I avoid him for three days and then act normal as if nothing happened.”

Hen pointed at him. “Yes. Exactly. That’s why you should NOT do this right now.”

Athena nodded firmly. “You are drunk, sweetheart. You are not going anywhere.”

Eddie shook his head, wobbling. “No. No, I have to. I have to tell him. Right now. Before I lose my nerve. Before I— before I think.”

Karen gasped, delighted. “YES. DO IT.”

Hen stared at her. “Karen.”

Maddie grabbed Eddie’s hands. “He’s right! He should tell him now! Strike while the gay panic is hot!”

“Absolutely not.” Athena folded her arms. “He is not confessing anything in this state.”

Karen waved her off. “He’s fine.”

“He is not fine,” Hen said.

“He’s emotionally ready,” Maddie insisted.

“He’s physically sideways,” Athena countered.

Hen rubbed her temples. “He can’t even walk in a straight line.”

Karen shrugged. “He doesn’t need to walk. We can drive him.”

Athena snapped, “We are NOT driving him to confess his love while he’s wine‑drunk!”

Maddie raised her hand. “I vote yes.”

Karen raised hers. “Yes.”

Hen raised hers. “Absolutely not.”

Athena raised hers. “No.”

All eyes turned to Eddie. He didn’t really know why they were looking at him, so he just raised both hands. 

Karen cheered. “Majority rules!”

Athena stared at him. “Eddie, that is not how voting works.”

Oh, so that’s what they were doing. 

Maddie grabbed his arm. “He’s ready!”

Hen muttered, “He’s going to fall on his face.”

Karen grinned. “He’s going to fall into Buck’s arms.”

Athena sighed the sigh of a woman who had seen too much. “Lord help us.”

Getting out the door turned out to be significantly harder than Eddie had anticipated. Mostly because his legs had apparently decided to stop participating in basic human function.

He took one step toward the hallway and immediately veered left like a shopping trolley with a broken wheel.

Maddie grabbed his arm. “Okay! Okay, we’ve got him!”

Karen grabbed his other arm. “He’s aerodynamic!”

Trust the rocket scientist to bring up physics in a time like this. 

Hen stared at them. “He is not aerodynamic. He is floppy.”

Athena pinched the bridge of her nose. “Everyone, stop grabbing him at once. You’re pulling him in four different directions.”

Eddie blinked up at them, swaying. “I’m fine.”

He was not fine. He was listing like a ship taking on water. And that was just physically. Mentally, the ship had already sunk — deeper than the Titanic, honestly. He really needed to stop thinking about that movie.

Maddie tugged him forward. “Come on, we’re going to the car!”

“No, we are not,” Hen said as she stepped in front of the door.

Karen stepped around Hen. “Yes, we are.”

Athena stepped in front of Karen. “No, we are not.”

Eddie felt like he was watching a tennis match. The back-and-forth was not helping with the dizziness. 

He groaned softly. “Stop… talking in different directions. My brain is… sloshing.” 

Watching the others distracted Eddie enough that he ended up stepping into Athena. Literally. He walked straight into her.

Athena caught him by the shoulders. “Sweetheart, you cannot confess your love like this.”

Eddie blinked at her, eyes wide and glassy. “I have to. If I don’t do it now, I’ll chicken out. I know myself. I’m a chicken.”

Karen patted his cheek. “You’re a brave chicken.”

Hen muttered, “He’s a drunk chicken.”

Maddie gasped. “He’s a gay chicken.”

Eddie nodded solemnly. “I’m a gay chicken.”

“You’re a gay chicken with a mission,” Karen agreed while pointing at him. 

Athena sighed. “Please stop encouraging him.” 

Athena and Hen eventually gave up trying to discourage them. They were on a mission and — through a combination of pushing, pulling, guiding, and one moment where Eddie tried to sit down on a shoe rack because he thought it was a bench — they managed to get him out the front door. 

The walkway was another challenge. He could have sworn it had changed since he last walked it. Eddie kept stopping to point at things. Things he could have sworn were not there earlier. 

“That’s a tree,” he announced proudly.

He knew that one. 

“Yes, Eddie,” Hen said, steering him around it. “It’s been there for years.”

Hen was a lying liar who lies, because Eddie could swear that it hadn’t. 

“That’s a mailbox,” he added.

He was acing this quiz. He couldn’t even remember someone telling him to name things, but someone must have. 

Karen nodded. “Incredible observational skills.”

Oh, yay, so he must be doing well. He was going to be the best at this game. 

“That’s… that’s my shoe,” he said, staring down at his foot.

Maddie squeezed his arm. “You’re doing amazing.”

By the time they reached Athena’s car, Hen had taken over full wrangling duty, because she was the only one sober enough to keep Eddie upright without falling over herself.

Athena opened the back door. “Alright. Everyone in. Hen’s driving.”

Karen gasped. “Athena, you’re not driving?”

“I’ve had two glasses,” Athena said. “Hen’s had half of one.”

Hen nodded. “I’m the designated adult.”

Karen slid into the backseat. “I reject that title.”

Maddie climbed in after her. “I accept it.”

Eddie attempted to get in and missed the seat entirely, landing half on the floor, half on Karen’s lap.

Karen shrieked. “Oh my god, he’s crushing me!”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie mumbled into her thigh. “Gravity hates me.”

Athena got into the passenger seat, turning around to face him. “Eddie. You do not have to do this tonight.”

Eddie shook his head, eyes huge. “I do. If I wait, I’ll panic. And then I’ll avoid him. And then I’ll pretend everything’s fine. And then I’ll die.”

Karen leaned forward. “See? He’s committed.”

“He’s dramatic, that’s what he is,” Athena muttered. 

As Hen pulled out of the driveway, the debate continued.

Athena twisted in her seat. “Eddie, sweetheart, you need to be sober for this.”

Karen leaned forward between the seats. “No, he doesn’t! Drunk courage is still courage.”

“Drunk courage is how people end up in the ER,” Hen replied with all the knowledge of someone who had dealt with enough drunk people throughout her career. 

Maddie shook her head. “No, no, this is romantic. This is like… like a movie.”

Athena raised an eyebrow. “A bad movie.”

Karen shrugged. “A chaotic movie.”

Hen muttered, “A movie that should’ve been cancelled in pre‑production.”

Eddie stared out the window, heart pounding, wine buzzing through his veins, courage and fear wrestling in his chest.

Buck was at his house.

Buck was waiting.

Buck was… Buck.

And Eddie Diaz — drunk, terrified, and held upright by sheer determination — was on his way to confess his feelings.

This was either going to be the best decision of his life.

Or the worst.

But he was doing it anyway.

— — — — — —

Hen pulled Athena’s car up to the curb outside Eddie’s house, and the moment the engine stopped, Eddie’s stomach dropped straight through the floor. Oh no. Oh no. They were here. They were actually here.

There was no going back. He was going to die.

Athena twisted around in her seat before he could even unbuckle himself. “Don’t move.”

Eddie froze. Mostly because he couldn’t move without tipping sideways. But also because Athena could be terrifying sometimes. 

Athena rummaged in her bag with the grim determination of someone preparing for triage. “You need something in your system before you go in there.”

Eddie blinked. “Like… courage?”

“No,” Athena said, pulling out a granola bar. “Food.”

Hen reached into the cupholder and handed back a half‑empty bottle of water. “Drink.”

Karen gasped. “Oh my god, hydration!”

Maddie clapped. “He’s going to be so sober!”

He appreciated their support and enthusiasm, but he was still very confused. 

Eddie took the granola bar and stared at it as if it were a foreign object. “This is… crunchy.”

“That’s the point,” Athena said.

He took a bite. It was, in fact, crunchy. And dry. And somehow both too sweet and not sweet enough. He chewed slowly, as if he were being punished.

Hen held the water bottle to his mouth. “Sip.”

Eddie sipped. Because he really needed everyone to tell him what to do at that point. 

Karen squealed. “He’s doing it!”

Maddie giggled. “He’s so brave.”

Eddie felt as if he were watching himself from outside his body. His brain was spiralling. His heart was spiralling. His entire soul was spiralling.

I’m going to tell Buck I love him.  

I’m going to tell Buck I love him.  

I’m going to tell Buck I love him.

He was going to throw up.

Hen opened the door. “Alright. Out you get.”

Eddie stumbled out of the car, legs wobbly, heart pounding. The girls spilled out after him, all giggles and whispered encouragements.

Karen grabbed his shoulders. “You’ve GOT this.”

Maddie nodded vigorously. “He’s going to say yes.”

Hen muttered, “He’d better.”

Athena sighed. “Please don’t fall over.”

Eddie took a deep breath. The air felt too cold. Too sharp. Too real. His house loomed in front of him like a final exam he hadn’t studied for.

He turned to the girls. “Okay. I’m going in.”

Karen squealed.

Maddie clapped.

Hen winced.

Athena said under her breath, “Someone help us.” 

Eddie marched—well, wobbled—up the walkway and onto the porch. His heart was beating so loudly, he was sure Buck could hear it from inside.

He raised his hand.

Knocked.

And then—

Chaos.

The girls scattered like startled pigeons. Karen dove behind the mailbox. Maddie crouched behind a bush that absolutely did not cover her. Hen pressed herself against the side of the house like she was avoiding sniper fire. Athena crouched behind the trash bin with the dignity of a woman who regretted every choice that led her here.

Eddie stared at them, horrified. “What are you doing?!”

Karen hiss‑whispered, “We’re hiding!”

Maddie added, “For moral support!”

Hen muttered, “This is humiliating.”

Athena sighed. “I’m too old for this.”

Eddie didn’t have time to argue because the door opened.

And there stood Buck. Hair rumpled. Wearing sweatpants and a soft T‑shirt. Bare feet. Like he had been relaxing before he opened the door. His blue eyes were wide and confused. His beautiful ocean blue eyes. 

“Eddie?” Buck asked, blinking at him. “What… what’s going on?”

Eddie’s brain short‑circuited. His mouth went dry. His heart stopped. What was he doing?

And somewhere behind him, Karen whispered loudly:

“OH MY GOD IT’S HAPPENING.”

Buck blinked at him from the doorway, confusion written all over his face. “Eddie? What are you doing here? I thought you were at wine night—”

Eddie opened his mouth, and absolutely nothing came out. His brain was a blank sheet of paper. A blank sheet of paper on which someone had spilled wine.

Buck frowned gently. “Hey. You okay?”

Eddie tried again. “I— I’m— I’m here.”

Buck’s eyebrows lifted. “Yeah, I can see that.”

Behind Eddie, the bushes rustled, and Karen’s whisper floated out, far too loud to be a whisper: “TELL HIM HE LOOKS PRETTY.”

Buck’s head snapped toward the yard. “What was that?”

Eddie panicked. “Wind.”

There was no wind.

Buck looked back at him slowly. “Uh‑huh. Okay. Why didn’t you use your key?”

Eddie blinked. His key. His key that he absolutely had. He had forgotten he had the key. His key was currently in his pocket, doing nothing.

“I… forgot,” he said.

Buck’s eyes narrowed. “Forgot? Eddie, you’ve never forgotten your key in your life.”

Another rustle.

Maddie whisper‑yelled, “TELL HIM YOU MISSED HIM.”

Buck’s head whipped toward the bushes again. “Okay, seriously, what is—”

Eddie panicked harder. “Possum.”

Buck stared at him. “A possum.”

“Yes,” Eddie said, nodding too fast. “A… loud possum.”

Hen’s voice hissed from behind the side of the house, “Stop talking about possums and tell him the thing!”

Buck’s eyes widened. “Hen? Is that Hen?”

Eddie’s heart stopped. “No.”

Buck leaned sideways, trying to see around him. “Eddie, why are there people in your yard?”

Athena’s voice, low and stern, floated out from behind the trash bin: “Everyone, stay DOWN.”

Buck’s jaw dropped. “Athena?!”

Eddie felt his soul leave his body. He was going to die. Right here. On his own porch. Of embarrassment.

Buck looked back at him, eyes wide, voice soft with concern. “Eddie… are you drunk?”

Eddie opened his mouth. His brain screamed lie. His heart screamed, tell the truth. His mouth said, “No.”

Buck blinked. “You’re swaying.”

“I’m… breezy,” Eddie said.

“There’s no breeze,” Buck replied.

Eddie wobbled. “Internal breeze.”

Buck stared at him like he was trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces. “Why are you here? Why are you drunk? Why are our friends hiding in your yard?”

The bushes rustled violently.

Karen whisper‑shouted, “JUST SAY IT!”

Maddie whisper‑shouted, “YOU CAN DO IT!”

Hen whisper‑shouted, “PLEASE DO NOT DO IT.”

Athena whisper‑shouted, “LORD HELP US ALL.”

Buck’s eyes widened even more. “Okay, I definitely heard that.”

Eddie needed to take control of the situation fast. Okay plan. He needed a plan. He didn’t really have long to devise said plan, though, before his son joined the party on his porch. 

Christopher blinked up at them, rubbing his eyes. “Dad?”

Eddie froze.

Buck turned. “Hey, buddy. What are you doing up?”

Christopher frowned. “I heard knocking. And talking. And… whispering?”

Buck looked back at Eddie, eyebrows raised. “Yeah, I’d like to know about the whispering, too.”

Christopher stepped closer, squinting at his father. “Why are you home early? And why do you look… wobbly?”

“I’m fine,” Eddie said quickly. Too quickly. “I’m— I’m great. I’m—”

He hiccuped. He really tried to hold it back, but hey, at least he didn’t vomit everywhere. 

Christopher blinked. “You’re drunk.”

Eddie winced. “I’m… a little drunk.”

Buck sighed. “Yeah, I figured.”

Christopher looked between them, then toward the yard. “And why are Athena and Hen hiding behind the trash cans?”

Buck’s head whipped around so fast Eddie heard his neck crack.

Athena immediately ducked lower as Hen pressed herself flatter against the siding.

Karen popped up from behind the mailbox like a deranged meerkat. “HI CHRISTOPHER!”

Maddie waved from behind a bush that covered approximately none of her. “HEY SWEETIE!”

Buck stared at them, horrified. “What— what are you all DOING?”

Eddie groaned, covering his face with both hands. “Oh, my god.”

Christopher looked up at his dad, confused and concerned. “Dad… what is happening?”

Eddie opened his mouth.

A sound came out. So at least that was something. It was better than whatever the hell was happening before. It wasn’t a word. Not even a syllable. More like the noise a kettle makes right before it boils over. But it was something. 

Buck blinked. “Eddie…?”

Eddie tried again. “I— I’m— I’m the Titanic.”

God, that fucking boat. If it wasn’t already rotting at the bottom of the Atlantic, Eddie would’ve sunk it himself out of pure spite. 

Buck stared at him. “You’re… what?”

Behind him, the bushes rustled violently. He was going to have to do some extra gardening after this. 

Karen whisper‑yelled, “GOOD START, SWEETIE, KEEP GOING!”

Hen whisper‑groaned, “That is NOT a good start.”

Athena hissed, “Give me patience.”

Maddie whisper‑encouraged, “He’s doing AMAZING.”

Buck looked between Eddie and the shrubbery, utterly baffled. “Why are you the Titanic?”

Eddie swallowed hard. “Because I’m sinking.”

Buck’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re sinking.”

“Yes,” Eddie said, nodding too fast. “Emotionally. Mentally. Spiritually. I’m— I’m underwater.”

Buck blinked. “Do you need to sit down?”

“No!” Eddie said, louder than intended. “No sitting. Sitting is bad. Sitting is— sinking.”

Buck opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Eddie, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Eddie dragged both hands down his face. “I’m trying to say something important.”

Karen whisper‑shouted, “TELL HIM YOU LOVE HIM!”

Hen whisper‑countered, “NO, BUILD UP TO IT!”

Maddie whispered-added, “START WITH HOW MUCH HE MEANS TO YOU!”

Athena whisper‑ordered, “EVERYONE STOP YELLING.”

None of them were whispering. 

Buck stared at the yard. “Why are they all here?”

Eddie ignored that. He couldn’t afford to think about the fact that his friends were hiding in his lawn like deranged garden gnomes.

He took a breath. “Buck… you’re… you’re like… like…”

His brain spun the wheel of analogies and it landed on the worst possible option. He was good at that. 

“…like an iceberg.”

Buck blinked. “An iceberg.”

“Yes,” Eddie said, nodding solemnly. “But in a good way.”

“There’s a good way to be an iceberg?” Buck asked.

“Yes,” Eddie insisted. “Because you’re… big. And… cold. No. Not cold. You’re warm. You’re a warm iceberg.”

Buck stared at him. “Eddie, that doesn’t make any sense.”

Eddie groaned. “I KNOW. I KNOW IT DOESN’T. I’M TRYING.”

Karen whisper‑yelled, “YOU’RE DOING REALLY GREAT, HONEY.”

Hen whisper‑muttered, “He is absolutely not.”

Maddie whisper‑encouraged, “JUST SAY THE THING.”

Athena whisper‑sighed, “Please, for the love of God.”

Eddie took another breath. His heart pounded. His palms sweated. His courage wobbled. He would do it. He was going to do it. 

“Buck,” he said, voice cracking. “I’m trying to tell you that you’re… important. To me. Really important. Like… like the most important.”

Buck’s expression softened. “Eddie…”

“And I’m scared,” Eddie blurted. “I’m so scared. Because you’re— you’re everything. And I’m— I’m a shipwreck. And I keep sinking. And you keep saving me. And I don’t know how to— how to say it right.”

Buck’s breath caught.

Eddie pressed on, words tumbling out faster now, messy and raw and unstoppable.

“I love you,” he said. “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for— for forever. And I’m drunk, and I’m stupid, and I’m probably going to regret telling you it all like this, but I had to tell you. I had to. Because if I didn’t do it now, I never would.”

Silence. Real silence. Even the bushes stopped rustling. Which was surprising as they hadn’t been still the entire night. 

Then—

A chorus of whisper‑cheers exploded from the yard.

“HE DID IT!” Karen whisper‑screamed.

“FINALLY,” Hen whisper‑groaned.

“YESSSSS,” Maddie whisper‑squealed.

Athena whisper‑muttered, “Thank you, Lord.”

Eddie didn’t look at them. He could only look at Buck. 

Buck took a slow step forward, eyes wide, breath caught somewhere between shock and something softer. Something warm. Something that made Eddie’s knees wobble even more than the wine did.

“You…” Buck said quietly. “You’re in love with me.”

Eddie swallowed. “Yes.”

Buck blinked once. Twice. His voice came out low, almost disbelieving. “Good.”

Eddie’s brain short‑circuited. “Good?”

Buck nodded, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. Good. Because I—”

“WAIT,” Christopher said, stepping fully into the doorway now, hands on his hips like a miniature adult. “Good how?”

Buck froze.

Eddie froze harder.

Behind them, the bushes rustled like a wildlife documentary.

Karen whisper‑squealed, “OH MY GOD HE SAID GOOD.”

Maddie whisper‑gasped, “HE SAID GOOD.”

Hen whisper‑muttered, “Everyone shut up.”

Christopher looked between the two grown men, confused but invested. “Dad said he loves you. And you said good. What does good mean?”

Buck opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Uh— well— I—”

Eddie stared at him, heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his teeth. “Buck?”

Buck looked at him, eyes softening again. “It means… I’m glad. Really glad.”

Christopher frowned. “Glad like… ‘yay, pizza for dinner’? Or glad like… ‘yay, Dad’s in love with me’?”

Eddie made a strangled noise.

Buck choked. “Chris—”

Christopher shrugged. “What? I’m trying to understand.”

Behind them, Karen whisper‑yelled, “HE’S ASKING THE REAL QUESTIONS.”

Hen whisper‑hissed, “Karen, please.”

Buck took a breath, steadying himself. “Chris… it means I’m glad because… I care about your dad. A lot.”

Christopher blinked. “Like… love?”

Buck hesitated.

Eddie’s heart stopped.

The bushes held their breath.

Buck looked at Eddie again — really looked — and something in his expression shifted. Softened. Brightened.

“Yeah,” Buck said quietly. “Like love.”

The bushes exploded.

Maddie whisper‑screamed, “YESSSSS.”

Karen whisper‑shrieked, “WE DID IT.”

Hen whisper‑groaned, “Oh my god.”

Athena whisper‑muttered, “Finally.”

Christopher turned toward the yard, squinting. “Why are they hiding in our bushes?”

Buck threw his hands up. “THANK YOU. I’ve been asking that.”

Eddie groaned, covering his face. “Please stop looking at them.”

Hen stood up next, brushing leaves off her jacket. “This was not my idea.”

Karen popped up from behind the mailbox. “It was absolutely my idea.”

“And I supported it wholeheartedly.” Maddie emerged from the bush, twigs in her hair. “I knew it was going to work. We are great love mentors.”

Maddie and Karen shared an overly enthusiastic high five, which ended with Karen almost face-planting the ground. 

Buck stared at them, then at Eddie, then back at them. “Why— why were you all hiding?”

 “Moral support!” Karen beamed.

Athena muttered, “Poor judgment.”

Maddie nodded. “Love.”

Buck blinked. “Love?”

Maddie pointed at Eddie. “He needed backup.”

Buck smiled — soft, warm, and a little stunned — and stepped closer to Eddie.

“You really love me?” he asked quietly.

Eddie lowered his hands, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy. “Yeah. I do.”

Buck’s smile widened, slow and bright and real. “Good. Because I love you too.”

Buck stepped closer and reached out to take Eddie’s hand, still looking at him like he was something bright and impossible.

Eddie’s breath caught. His heart was doing somersaults. His knees were doing interpretive dance. His brain was doing absolutely nothing, but he was used to that by now. 

Buck’s voice dropped, “Come inside. Please.”

Eddie nodded because words were no longer an option. His whole body felt like it was buzzing — from the wine, from the adrenaline, from the fact that Buck had just said he loved him too.

Buck gently guided him over the threshold, steadying him with a hand at his back. Eddie didn’t fall, but only because Buck was there.

Christopher grinned, stepping aside like he’d been waiting for this exact moment his entire life. “I’m gonna go get water,” he announced, already heading toward the kitchen. “Dad needs it.”

Buck huffed a soft laugh. “Yeah, he does.”

Eddie felt warm all over. Embarrassed. Relieved. Terrified. Happy. Everything at once.

Buck closed the door behind them.

Locked it.

And the second the lock clicked, a chorus erupted from outside.

“HEY—” Karen’s voice.

“LET US IN—” Maddie’s voice.

“WE BROUGHT HIM HERE—” Hen’s voice. 

“WE DESERVE TO WITNESS THE ENDING—” Karen again. 

Buck pressed his forehead to the door, laughing under his breath. “Oh my god.”

Eddie groaned, covering his face. “They’re never going to let me live this down.”

Buck turned back to him, eyes soft. “Probably not.”

Another round of knocking.

“EDDIE, SWEETIE, ARE YOU ALIVE?” Karen yelled.

“BUCKLEY, IF YOU HURT HIM I WILL—” Hen started.

“NO THREATS,” Athena snapped.

Another knock. “LET US IN, WE CAN’T SEE ANYTHING,” Maddie called.

Buck reached past Eddie and flipped the porch light off.

The yard went dark.

A chorus of confused shrieks followed.

Buck grinned. “There. Now they really can’t see anything.”

Eddie laughed — a soft, breathless sound he couldn’t hold back.

Buck looked at him, eyes warm, steady, full of something that made Eddie’s heart feel too big for his chest.

And then Buck kissed him. 

It wasn’t desperate or frantic like Eddie always imagined first kisses were supposed to be. It was careful. Tentative in the way something precious usually is.

Buck’s lips were warm against his, barely there at first, like he was waiting for Eddie to change his mind.

Eddie answered by kissing him back. Obviously. That was the whole point of the plan. Eddie was exceeding thank you very much. 

That seemed to shatter something in Buck because he made this tiny noise low in his throat — relieved more than anything — and his hand slid carefully to Eddie’s waist.

The kiss deepened slightly, but it remained gentle. Still undeniably tender. 

It was everything Eddie had been dreaming of. 

“ARE YOU TWO DONE YET? IT’S COLD OUT HERE!” Karen yelled.

Buck froze.

Eddie froze harder.

Maddie’s voice followed, scandalised. “KAREN, LET THEM HAVE THEIR MOMENT!”

Hen added, “I swear to God, if you two don’t open this door—”

Athena cut in sharply, “NO. They are NOT opening this door.”

Buck pressed his forehead to Eddie’s, laughing under his breath. “They’re unbelievable.”

Eddie huffed a soft, breathless laugh. “They’re never going to let us forget this.”

Buck pulled back just enough to look at him — really look at him — eyes bright and full of something that made Eddie’s chest ache in the best way.

“I love you,” Buck said quietly. Certain. Sure.

Eddie felt the words settle into him like they’d always belonged there. “I love you too.”

Eddie Diaz was gay. And for the first time in his life, he felt entirely at peace with it. He was happy with the love he’d finally stopped running from. The love he’d finally spoken aloud. The love Evan Buckley returned. And maybe, just maybe, he was still riding the last traces of wine. But mostly, he was drunk on joy. 

And if this was what being drunk on love felt like, Eddie decided he never needed to sober up.