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There were two kinds of excitement in Eddie’s truck.
Theo’s involved shouting every sea creature he knew at the back of Buck’s head.
Christopher’s involved insisting, for the sixth time, that he was only coming because Theo had begged.
Chris had asked Buck last night whether the aquarium still had the shark tunnel, then spent the entire morning acting like someone had forced him into the truck against his will. He had even brought headphones for credibility. They were currently hanging unused around his neck while he corrected Theo’s pronunciation of anemone.
Theo had given up on anemone after two tries and moved on to shouting about stingrays.
Buck matched him without hesitation.
Every time Theo leaned forward against his straps with a new addition to the list, Buck turned halfway around in his seat like this was urgent information that deserved his full attention.
“Definitely turtles,” he said. “Probably seahorses. Maybe an octopus if it feels like cooperating.”
“Two octopus.”
“Two octopuses.”
“Two octopus.”
“Sure.”
Buck smiled at him.
Eddie watched the smile from the corner of his eye, which was becoming an issue.
Buck had always been good with kids. Eddie had known this for years.
Apparently, knowing something did not stop it from becoming a problem every single time Buck demonstrated it.
Still, there was something about Buck meeting Theo’s excitement exactly where it lived, while also checking the mirror every few minutes to see whether Chris was listening. Something about knowing neither kid had to ask for Buck’s attention because Buck gave it before they could.
Eddie tightened his hands on the wheel.
The day had barely started, and Buck was already making it difficult to behave normally.
“I’ve already seen fish,” Chris said.
Eddie glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “Have you?”
“Yes.”
“All of them?”
“Enough of them.”
Beside him, Theo bounced against the straps of his car seat.
“We’re seeing sharks,” he announced. “And turtles. And octopus.”
“An octopus,” Buck corrected.
“And octopus,” Theo repeated, refusing to let grammar interfere with the important part. “And seahorses and stingrays and whales and those fish with the light on their head.”
“Anglerfish,” Chris said.
Theo pointed at him. “Those. And whales.”
Buck counted on his fingers. “Sharks, turtles, octopus, seahorses, stingrays, anglerfish…”
“And whales.”
Buck hesitated. “The whales might be where this plan falls apart.”
Theo stopped bouncing.
The silence from the back seat was immediate and severe.
Buck glanced over his shoulder. “They might have a whale skeleton.”
“A real dead whale?”
“Maybe.”
Theo considered this.
“Cool.”
Chris looked out the window. “Depends what kind of skeleton.”
Buck turned slightly. “Oh?”
“Like, is it mounted? Is it complete? Because if it’s a blue whale, the skull alone would be huge.”
Buck smiled. “You sound interested.”
“I’m making conversation.”
“Your voice went up.”
“My voice did not go up.”
Buck turned back around with a satisfied grin.
Eddie tried to keep his attention on the road.
Buck had been matching Theo’s energy since they’d left the house, answering every repeated question as though it were the first time Theo had asked. Yes, there would be sharks. Yes, they would find the turtles. No, the octopus probably would not come out of the tank and wrap around Theo’s head. Yes, Buck understood this was disappointing.
Buck had also packed snacks for a forty-minute drive.
They were separate snacks from the aquarium snacks he had also packed, which Eddie knew were in the backpack at Buck’s feet along with water bottles, wipes, spare clothes for Theo, sunscreen they would not need indoors, and the little first aid kit that Buck took everywhere now.
Eddie had made the mistake of watching him pack that morning.
Buck had stood at his kitchen counter, checking items off a list on his phone while Theo moved between his legs and Christopher stole apple slices from an open container.
“You know they sell food there, right?” Chris asked.
“It’s expensive food.”
“It’s still food.”
Buck added another packet of pretzels to the bag. “I like having options.”
Eddie had been leaning against the sink drinking coffee, having the kind of normal morning that had become increasingly dangerous to him.
Buck in his own kitchen, moving around it with Theo underfoot and Christopher stealing pieces of apple from the container he was packing while insisting he wasn’t hungry. Eddie leaning against the counter with his coffee while the four of them argued about whether pretzels counted as a real snack.
Nothing about it had felt unusual.
Eddie had spent years becoming used to Buck in his own house. Somewhere along the way, he had also become used to himself in Buck’s. He knew which cupboard held the mugs and where Buck kept the good knives. Christopher left chargers plugged in beside the couch. There was a spare pair of Theo’s socks in Eddie’s truck and one of Eddie’s jackets hanging over the back of Buck’s dining chair.
Lately, though, Eddie had started noticing it from a slight distance, like he’d walked into Buck’s life and found that he and Chris were already part of the furniture.
It was inconvenient.
Especially when Buck got excited.
Excited Buck smiled with his whole face, talked with his hands, and gave every new thing his complete attention. Eddie had been watching it happen for years and still felt a little helpless against it.
Which was fine.
Mostly.
“Oh,” Buck said, straightening in his seat as the aquarium sign came into view. “There it is.”
Theo made a sound that started as a squeal and became something only dogs could properly interpret.
“Sharks!” he shouted.
Christopher flinched. “They can’t hear you.”
“SHARKS!”
“I think he knows,” Eddie said.
Buck was laughing. He turned to look at Theo, one hand braced against the back of his seat.
“You ready?”
Theo stared at him as if the question were insulting.
“I've been ready.”
Eddie pulled into the car park.
From behind him, Christopher sighed with the exaggerated patience of a teenager being taken somewhere against his will, then opened the aquarium map on his phone.
Eddie watched him zoom in on the shark exhibit.
Eddie parked, turned off the engine, and looked back at them.
“Everybody ready?”
Theo immediately started fighting with the buckle of his car seat.
“I can do it.”
“Wait for Buck,” Eddie said.
“I can do it myself.”
“You can’t reach the bottom clip.”
“I can reach it.”
He could not reach it.
Buck got out and opened Theo’s door while Eddie went around to the back for Christopher’s crutches. Chris had already opened his own door and was shifting carefully toward the edge of the seat by the time Eddie reached him.
“I’ve got it,” Christopher said.
“I know.”
Eddie handed over the first crutch, then the second. He waited until Chris had his balance before stepping back.
Across the car, Buck had released Theo, who launched himself onto the pavement and immediately tried to run toward the entrance.
Buck caught the back of his shirt.
“Whoa. Parking lot. Cars.”
“The sharks are waiting.”
“They’ve been here a while. They can give us another two minutes.”
Theo twisted around. “How long?”
“Two minutes.”
“That’s so long.”
Christopher came around the front of the truck, setting the tips of his crutches with neat, practiced movements.
“You survived forty minutes in the car.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“I was sitting down.”
Chris looked at Eddie. “He has an answer for everything.”
“Yeah,” Eddie said. “He does.”
Buck slung the backpack over one shoulder and held out his hand to Theo. Theo took it without looking, already staring toward the entrance.
Eddie fell into step beside Christopher.
“Are you excited?” he asked.
Chris gave him a flat look.
“It's fish, Dad.”
“Didn’t answer the question.”
“I’m here because Theo asked.”
Theo heard his name and turned around while still walking forward.
“I asked fourteen times.”
“You asked more than fourteen times,” Chris said.
Buck looked back at Eddie.
Eddie had no idea what showed on his face, but Buck’s smile softened anyway.
It did that sometimes. Changed for Eddie.
The grin Buck gave Theo was bright and easy, willing to meet him wherever he was. With Christopher, it usually carried a little challenge, like Buck was inviting him into a joke Chris would pretend not to enjoy.
This one was quieter.
Eddie knew it well enough to recognise it from across a room. Buck used it when Eddie handed him coffee without asking, or when Christopher said something that made them both proud and neither of them wanted to embarrass him by saying so. Sometimes Buck looked at him like that for no reason Eddie could identify at all.
He tried not to think about those times.
He tried not to wonder whether Buck knew his smile changed.
Worse, whether Buck knew Eddie had noticed.
The entrance hall was bright and crowded, full of families clustered around ticket screens and children pulling toward a large suspended model of a blue whale. Theo stopped so abruptly Buck nearly tripped over his own feet.
“Whale,” Theo whispered.
Buck tilted his head back.
“Oh, wow.”
Eddie looked up too. The model stretched almost the entire length of the ceiling, its dark body hanging above them in the filtered blue light.
Theo’s mouth fell open.
Buck’s did too.
Christopher glanced up at the whale.
“It’s life-sized?” he asked.
Buck nodded. “Pretty close.”
Chris followed the length of it across the ceiling, his expression softening despite himself.
“That’s actually huge.”
Theo pointed upward. “Whales are my favorite.”
“We haven’t seen anything else yet,” Eddie said.
Theo looked at him.
Eddie had already learned what that look meant over the past six months. It meant Theo had asked for something simple and reasonable and was confused by Eddie’s failure to comply.
Buck cleared his throat.
“I agree,” he said solemnly. “The whale is currently the best one.”
Theo nodded, then looked at Christopher.
Chris sighed. “Yeah. It's the best one.”
Theo turned to Eddie.
Eddie glanced up at the whale again. “Best one.”
Satisfied, Theo resumed walking.
Buck leaned toward Eddie. “You’re going to be doing that all day.”
“I gathered.”
“He needs consensus.”
“He’s four.”
“Four and a half,” Theo called over his shoulder.
Buck lowered his voice. “Four and a half.”
They made it through the ticket line, though Theo asked every thirty seconds whether they were inside yet.
“We’re inside the building,” Christopher told him.
“No. Inside the fish.”
Chris looked toward the dark hallway beyond the ticket gates. “You mean where all the tanks are?”
Theo nodded. “Inside the fish.”
“Okay,” Chris said. “Then not yet.”
Buck handed over the tickets at the entry gate and glanced at him. “You’re being very patient.”
Chris adjusted his grip on his crutches. “He’s excited.”
“I’m always excited,” Theo said.
“That’s true,” Chris said.
They entered through a dark hallway lined with screens showing underwater footage. Theo immediately pressed both hands to the first screen and tried to follow a school of silver fish as they moved across it.
“Those are my favorite,” he said.
“The video fish?” Chris asked.
“Yes.”
Eddie took out his phone and checked the time.
Four minutes later, Christopher had one hand pressed flat against the glass of the shark tank.
The main gallery opened suddenly around them, the ceiling higher and the light deep blue. A broad tank took up the entire wall, full of slow-moving sharks and schools of fish flashing silver as they turned.
Chris had stopped mid-step.
His crutches were tucked securely beneath his arms, his weight steady. One hand rested against the glass.
A sand tiger shark drifted past him, close enough for them to see the uneven points of its teeth.
Christopher’s whole face changed.
His eyes widened, and his mouth parted a little, and he tracked the shark until it disappeared behind a rocky structure at the edge of the tank.
Buck noticed at once.
“Too old, huh?”
Chris’s expression closed so quickly it would have been impressive if Eddie hadn’t already taken out his phone.
“I’m keeping Theo company.”
Theo was twelve feet away, trying to persuade another shark to turn around.
Buck looked toward him, then back at Chris.
“Very supportive of you.”
“Shut up.”
“You had your hand on the glass.”
“I was looking.”
“You can look without touching.”
“I was leaning.”
“You don’t lean with your palm.”
Eddie aimed his phone discreetly.
Buck glanced at him. “Are you filming this?”
“No.”
“Dad.”
Eddie kept recording.
Chris pulled his hand away from the glass. “Delete it.”
“I’m taking a video of the sharks.”
“The camera is pointed at me.”
“You’re in front of the sharks.”
Buck moved into frame beside Chris and smiled at Eddie’s phone. “Christopher Diaz, age fifteen, overcome by the majesty of marine life.”
“I hate both of you.”
Theo hurried back toward them.
“This one is best,” he announced, pointing at a broad-headed shark cruising along the bottom of the tank.
“The hammerhead?” Buck asked.
“No, that one.”
“That is a hammerhead.”
Theo frowned at the shark. “It doesn’t have a hammer.”
“Its head is shaped like one.”
“It’s shaped like a T for Theo.”
Buck considered this. “That’s true.”
“T-shark,” Theo said.
Chris adjusted his crutch. “It’s called a hammerhead.”
Theo looked at him. “T-shark.”
Chris glanced at the shark again.
“Okay,” he said. “It does look like a T.”
Theo brightened. “T-shark.”
“T-shark,” Chris agreed.
Theo smiled. “Best one.”
Buck immediately agreed.
Eddie agreed because he had some interest in moving forward before the aquarium closed.
They made it approximately twenty feet before Theo stopped in front of a spotted ray and pointed with both hands.
“That one.”
Buck followed his finger. “The ray?”
“The best one.”
Chris looked back toward the hammerhead tank. “What happened to T-shark?”
Theo considered this for less than a second. “Still good.”
“But not the best?”
“No.”
Buck nodded as if Theo had made a difficult but defensible call. “Okay. Spotted ray takes the lead.”
Theo looked at Chris.
Chris sighed, though there was no real resistance in it. “Spotted ray.”
Then Theo turned to Eddie.
Eddie lifted the phone he was still holding. “Best one.”
Theo accepted that and moved closer to the glass, taking hold of the lower part of Chris’s crutch again as he went. Chris shifted automatically to make room for him, one hand settling briefly at the back of Theo’s shoulder when another family passed too close.
Eddie kept filming.
Technically, the ray was in the frame.
It glided over them with its pale underside pressed to the glass, and Theo tipped his whole head back to follow it. Chris said something Eddie couldn’t hear. Theo laughed and leaned against his side, still wrapped around the crutch.
Buck glanced at Eddie’s phone, then at Eddie.
“You getting the ray?”
“Mostly.”
Buck looked toward the kids and smiled.
Eddie adjusted the frame to fit all three of them.
At the next tank, it became a green sea turtle.
Then an eel.
Then a school of tiny orange fish because there were “just so many of them.”
Theo required individual responses.
“Buck?”
“Best one.”
“Chris?”
“Definitely.”
“Eddie?”
“Best one.”
Theo would nod each time, satisfied that the matter had been properly settled, then move on and betray the previous animal without a second thought.
Buck never got tired of it.
He crouched at every low window, pointing out fish and reading signs aloud when Theo asked what something was. He had facts. Of course he had facts. Eddie had known he would.
“Parrotfish have teeth in their throats,” Buck said.
Christopher looked at him. “Why do you know that?”
Buck looked back. “Why don’t you?”
“They make sand,” Buck told Theo.
“The fish make sand?” Theo asked.
“They eat little pieces of coral and then the parts they don’t use come back out as sand.”
There was a pause.
Theo’s nose wrinkled.
“Out their butt?”
Buck glanced at Eddie.
Eddie folded his arms. “You started this.”
“Basically,” Buck admitted.
Theo stared down through the glass at the parrotfish.
“Poop beach.”
Christopher chuckled.
Buck turned away, shoulders shaking.
Eddie looked at a sign about coral preservation until he was sure he could speak normally.
This was his life now, apparently. Standing in a dimly lit aquarium while Buck lost it over fish digestion and Christopher tried not to laugh loud enough to encourage Theo.
Buck’s laugh was mostly silent, the kind that folded him in half a little and made him reach blindly for the nearest steady thing. This time, that steady thing was Eddie’s shoulder.
Buck’s palm was warm through his shirt, his fingers curled loosely near Eddie’s collarbone.
It was a completely ordinary touch.
Eddie noticed the exact moment Buck’s hand fell away.
Theo pointed at the largest parrotfish.
“That's one is best.”
Chris wiped at his eyes. “The poop fish?”
“The sand fish.”
“Right. Sorry.”
Buck squeezed Eddie’s shoulder once before letting go.
Eddie kept reading the sign.
He learned absolutely nothing about coral preservation.
They moved into a narrower gallery where the tanks were built into the walls at Theo’s height. The crowd thickened, and Eddie found himself checking Christopher more often, tracking where his crutches landed and whether people were leaving him enough space.
“I’m fine,” he said quietly.
Eddie nodded. “Okay.”
He didn’t hover. He had learned not to, mostly. Learning had been a long process of getting things wrong in slightly different ways until Christopher told him what he needed.
Buck was better at it.
Not because Buck worried less. Buck worried about Chris with the concentration of a person who could turn concern into a full-time occupation. He just managed to make it feel like company.
He slowed without making a show of slowing. He stood where Chris could see him without blocking the exhibits. When the crowd pressed too close, Buck drew Theo against his side and started an argument about whether eels looked angry or surprised, giving Chris space to move through.
Eddie watched him do it.
He watched Buck look over his shoulder once Chris had cleared the narrowest part, quick and automatic.
Buck caught Eddie looking.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Buck narrowed his eyes, then bit back whatever he had been about to say.
Eddie’s attention caught briefly on the movement of his mouth.
That was becoming a problem.
He’d once gone whole weeks without thinking about Buck’s mouth. He missed those times. He had not appreciated them enough.
Now it was apparently a constant background concern. Buck smiled, Eddie noticed his mouth. Buck bit the inside of his cheek, Eddie noticed his mouth. Buck said something completely ordinary like, “Did you bring the wipes?” and Eddie’s brain responded as if he’d been handed a private invitation to ruin his own life.
It was embarrassing.
They had reached the next tank without Eddie entirely noticing, a broad display where lionfish moved slowly between the rocks.
One drifted past the glass with considerably more composure than Eddie currently possessed, all elegant fins and venomous spines.
At least it had the decency to look dangerous.
“Dad,” Chris called.
Eddie looked around.
Theo had attached himself to one of Christopher’s crutches.
He held the shaft just below the handle with both hands and walked beside Chris with grave concentration.
Christopher stared down at him.
“What are you doing?”
Theo shrugged, still holding the crutch. “Helping.”
Chris looked at the small hand wrapped around his crutch.
“You want to help me walk?”
Theo nodded. “So you don’t fall.”
Something in Chris’s face softened.
“I’m not going to fall,” he said. “But you can walk with me.”
Theo considered that. “And hold it?”
“When I stop.”
“Why?”
“Because I need it while I’m moving.”
“Oh.”
Theo let go.
Christopher took one step.
Theo hurried after him, then grabbed the lower part of the crutch the second Chris stopped again.
“Now?”
Chris smiled. “Yeah. Now.”
Buck pressed his lips together.
Eddie knew that expression. Buck was trying not to make a big deal out of something that had already gone straight through him.
Eddie understood.
Chris had never treated Theo like he was in the way. He corrected him, answered every question, let him trail after him from room to room. Theo returned the favor by believing Chris could do absolutely anything while also appointing himself responsible for keeping him upright.
Neither of them seemed to find this arrangement unusual.
Theo looked up at Chris. “I’m helping.”
“You are,” Chris said. “You’re doing a great job.”
Theo beamed.
Chris smiled down at him, warm and unguarded.
Eddie felt the familiar pull of pride in his chest, followed closely by something softer.
He had always loved the person Christopher was.
Lately, he was getting to watch Theo love him too.
Eddie took out his phone.
By the time he started filming, they were already moving toward the next tank together, Christopher setting the pace and Theo matching each step with fierce concentration.
Buck leaned into Eddie’s shoulder to look at the screen.
“You should narrate.”
“I’m not narrating.”
Buck lowered his voice, deep and serious.
“Here, in the dimly lit coastal habitat, we observe the elusive teenage aquarium guide.”
Chris looked back. “I can hear you.”
“Usually solitary,” Buck continued, “he has unexpectedly acquired a much smaller companion.”
“I’m not his companion,” Theo said.
“You’re holding his crutch.”
“I’m helping.”
Buck nodded solemnly. “A mutually beneficial alliance. The smaller creature provides enthusiasm. The larger one provides highly specific facts.”
Chris tried not to smile. “That’s not how nature documentaries work.”
“Notice how the guide challenges the narrator to establish dominance.”
Eddie laughed, and the phone dipped.
“Careful,” he murmured. “We may be witnessing a rare migration toward the jellyfish exhibit.”
Buck reached over to steady it, his hand closing around Eddie’s wrist.
“Professional camera work,” he said.
“Move.”
Instead, Buck stepped neatly into frame beside Chris and Theo, smiling at the camera like he had been invited.
“Buck,” Eddie said.
“What? Family documentary.”
Chris groaned. “You’re ruining it.”
Theo pointed at Buck. “He’s helping too.”
Buck put a hand to his chest. “Finally, some recognition.”
Eddie kept filming.
Buck watched Chris and Theo keep walking with an expression Eddie rarely caught anymore. Not because Buck hid things. Buck was almost pathologically incapable of hiding things. Life had just put more weight behind his eyes over the last year.
He knew what Theo meant to Buck. Knew the shape of the fear Buck carried around him, the impossible love of being trusted with a child who had already lost too much. He knew the forms Buck filled out and the appointments he kept and the nights he checked the monitor twice because Theo’s breathing sounded different.
He also knew Buck watched Christopher with the same fierce attention he always had.
There was no hesitation in it. No careful division.
Buck loved them both.
Eddie had known that.
Seeing it all at once felt different.
Buck looked over and caught him watching.
Then Buck glanced toward the kids again. “They’re good together.”
“Yeah.”
Theo was pointing into the tank now, his hand still resting against Chris’s crutch. Chris leaned down to hear him, smiling at whatever he said.
Buck watched them with that same open expression.
“He really loves Chris,” he said.
Eddie looked at him.
There was something careful in Buck’s voice now. Hopeful, maybe. Like he was asking more than he wanted to admit.
“Chris loves him too.”
Buck’s shoulders eased.
It was small. Eddie might have missed it if he hadn’t spent so many years learning Buck by heart.
“Yeah?” Buck asked.
“Yeah.”
Buck smiled, quiet and a little crooked.
Eddie had no defence against that one.
Theo had already moved on, pulling Christopher toward the next exhibit with the urgent confidence of someone who had personally planned the route.
The octopus tank sat in a darker corner of the gallery, built around a tangle of rocks and shadowed crevices. Theo hurried to the glass, searched the whole tank, then turned around with immediate suspicion.
The octopus was hiding.
Theo took this personally.
“We came to see him.”
“I know,” Buck said.
Theo frowned at the tank. “Where is he?”
Buck crouched beside him and leaned closer to the glass. After a few seconds, he pointed toward a narrow gap beneath one of the rocks.
“There. See that?”
Only the end of one tentacle was visible, curled against the sand.
Theo squinted.
“That doesn’t count.”
“It’s part of the octopus.”
“I want the rest.”
Buck glanced at Eddie, still wearing the last edge of that smile.
“Okay,” he said, turning back to Theo. “We’ll negotiate.”
“I want to see the head.”
“The octopus doesn’t know that.”
“Tell him.”
Buck crouched and leaned closer to the glass.
“Hey,” he said. “Octopus. We came a long way.”
Christopher glanced at Eddie. “He’s actually negotiating with it.”
Eddie watched Buck lean closer to the glass. “Seems optimistic.”
Buck tapped one finger lightly against his own knee, careful not to touch the glass.
“Theo would really like to see you.”
Nothing happened.
Theo pressed his face closer.
“Pleeeeease.”
The octopus remained beneath the rock, unmoved by manners.
Buck sat back on his heels. “He might be sleeping.”
“It’s daytime.”
“They’re nocturnal.”
Theo looked at Christopher. “What’s that?”
“Means it sleeps during the day and stays awake at night.”
“Like Buck,” Theo said.
Christopher laughed.
Eddie looked at Buck. “He’s got you there.”
“I sleep.”
“You called me at one in the morning to ask if penguins have knees.”
“I needed to know.”
“You could’ve Googled it.”
Buck gave him a crooked grin. “I wanted company.”
Theo turned back to the tank and folded his arms.
“I don’t like octopus anymore.”
Chris glanced at the rock. “Maybe he’s shy.”
“I said please.”
“You did.”
Theo shrugged, as though the logic were obvious. “So he should come out.”
Chris smiled a little. “I think he gets to decide.”
Theo thought about this, still visibly unconvinced.
Then something shifted beneath the rock.
One arm unfurled. Then another.
Theo gasped.
The octopus eased into view, changing from mottled brown to a pale rust as it moved along the glass.
Buck reached for Eddie without looking.
His hand found Eddie’s and closed around it.
He did that when he got excited. Reached for Eddie as though whatever he was seeing only counted if Eddie saw it too.
“Oh,” Buck whispered. “Look.”
Eddie did.
At Buck first.
Only for a second.
The aquarium light moved across his face, catching in the bright blue of his eyes. They were fixed on the octopus, wide with the same wonder as Theo’s, his fingers warm around Eddie’s hand.
Eddie made himself turn toward the tank.
The octopus pressed itself against the glass, its suckers pale and perfect.
Theo had gone silent.
Christopher leaned forward on his crutches.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Buck’s hand was still wrapped around Eddie’s.
That was probably fine.
Friends held hands all the time.
Probably not like this, with Buck’s thumb resting against the side of Eddie’s and Eddie suddenly aware of every nerve ending he owned, but there was no need to become dramatic about it.
He was at an aquarium with two children. There were families everywhere. A woman nearby was explaining camouflage to a toddler in a shark hat.
This was not the setting for a personal crisis.
Then Theo whispered, “Best one.”
Buck smiled.
Eddie looked at him again because apparently self-preservation had left the building.
“Yeah,” Eddie said.
He wasn’t talking about the octopus.
Thankfully, no one asked.
Theo stayed at the tank until the octopus folded itself back beneath the rocks, then accepted Buck’s promise that they could check again later.
By the time they made it through the next two exhibits, everyone was hungry.
They found a small patch of grass in the aquarium’s outdoor section, tucked behind the café and bordered by low shrubs. It overlooked a shallow pool where two seals moved lazily through the water.
Buck led them toward the patch of grass and pulled the folded picnic blanket from the bottom of the backpack.
Eddie looked at him. “You planned this.”
Buck glanced up. “I planned for this.”
“There’s a difference?”
“There was also a café option.”
Buck smiled and shook out the blanket.
Eddie should have been used to Buck building contingencies into every outing by now.
He wasn’t sure why it still made something warm settle in his chest.
They picked up drinks and a carton of fries from the café on the way out, because Buck’s carefully packed lunch apparently still required fries.
Theo sat cross-legged between them and immediately started stealing fries from Eddie’s carton.
Christopher lowered himself onto the blanket with careful dignity and watched Buck produce apple slices, pretzels, juice boxes, and enough sandwiches to feed a small field trip.
“You brought all this for Theo?”
Buck glanced at him. “For everyone.”
Chris looked down at the open container, then took half a sandwich.
Buck raised his eyebrows.
“What?” Chris said. “You said everyone.”
“I did.”
“Then I’m helping.”
Buck smiled. “Very generously.”
Chris took a bite. “You’re welcome.”
Theo held up one of Eddie’s fries.
“This is the best one.”
Eddie looked at the fry.
It was slightly longer than the others. That appeared to be its only qualification.
“Best one,” he agreed.
Theo turned to Buck.
Buck nodded solemnly. “Strong fry.”
Then to Christopher.
Chris leaned closer to inspect it. “Good shape.”
Satisfied, Theo ate it.
Eddie looked around at the blanket, the open containers, Chris pretending he had not been hungry, and Buck cutting Theo’s sandwich into smaller pieces because Theo had changed his mind about triangles.
There was plenty of room.
Buck’s knee still found Eddie’s.
Neither of them moved.
Christopher was halfway through the sandwich he had supposedly not wanted. Theo moved beside him, holding up apple slices one at a time and assigning each of them an animal.
“This one’s a shark.”
Chris looked at it. “Why?”
“It has a point.”
“Fair.”
Theo picked up another. “This one’s a turtle.”
“That one looks exactly the same.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Chris leaned closer, giving the matter proper consideration. “Okay. I see it.”
Theo handed him the turtle.
Across from them, Buck smiled down at his coffee.
Eddie watched the whole thing and felt something in him go quiet.
He and Chris had been fitting themselves into Buck’s life for years in small, unremarkable ways. A charger beside the couch. A jacket over a dining chair. Christopher knowing where Buck kept the extra blankets. Eddie sitting on a picnic rug with Buck’s knee against his while their kids argued about fruit.
Their kids.
After lunch came the tropical gallery, then penguins.
Buck read aloud from a sign that some penguin species paired for life.
Theo looked up at him. “Like married?”
“Kind of.”
“Do they kiss?”
“I don’t know if penguins kiss.”
“They have beaks,” Christopher said. “That would make it difficult.”
Buck glanced at Eddie. “They find a way.”
Eddie looked at the penguins.
One of them stood very close to another, their shoulders pressed together while they stared out at the water.
He refused to assign that any meaning.
After that came an exhibit on coastal habitats, where Theo spent ten minutes watching a hermit crab do almost nothing.
The hermit crab became the best one.
Buck took approximately forty photographs of it.
“It hasn’t moved,” Eddie said.
“It moved its leg.”
“You have that picture already.”
“This is a different leg.”
Eddie looked at the screen of Buck’s phone. “That’s the same photo.”
“You have no appreciation for wildlife photography.”
“I have appreciation. I just don’t think the crab needs a portfolio.”
Buck smiled. “Jealous?”
“Of the crab?”
“It’s getting a lot of my attention.”
Eddie looked at him.
Buck held his gaze for half a second longer than necessary, pleased with himself.
Ahead of them, Theo called, “Chris, wait,” and hurried after him.
Eddie stepped closer to Buck. “You’re very confident for a man taking blurry pictures through dirty glass.”
Buck’s smile widened. “You’ve been looking at me more than the crab.”
“That’s because the crab isn’t doing anything.”
“And I am?”
Eddie glanced at his mouth before he could stop himself.
Buck's smile turned slow and crooked.
Eddie walked past him toward the kids, and Buck called after him, “For someone with no appreciation for my photography, you spend a lot of time looking at the photographer.”
“You were blocking the tank.”
“I was standing beside you.”
“Exactly.”
Buck’s shoulder brushed Eddie’s as they walked and stayed there for two steps longer than the crowded gallery required.
Before Eddie could decide whether he had imagined it, Theo shouted from across the gallery.
“JELLY!”
They found the jellyfish exhibit at the end of a dark corridor.
The room was cool and almost black, lit only by the tanks built into the walls. Blue light spilled across the floor. Translucent bodies drifted upward, pulsing slowly, their thin tentacles trailing behind them.
Theo stopped at the entrance.
Christopher stopped beside him.
There were no questions this time. No demand that everyone agree. Theo let go of Chris’s crutch and moved toward the largest tank with careful steps.
Christopher followed.
They stood side by side in front of the glass, Theo’s head tipped back and Christopher balanced easily on his crutches.
The jellyfish rose and sank.
Eddie came to a stop several feet behind them.
Buck stepped in beside him.
The room made silence feel natural. Other visitors moved quietly around them, voices lowered without anyone asking. The water in the tanks shifted in slow currents, carrying the jellyfish through light that changed from blue to violet and back again.
Theo lifted one hand toward the glass but didn’t touch it.
Christopher glanced down at him.
Theo whispered something.
Chris leaned closer to hear.
Eddie couldn’t make out the words. He didn’t need to. Chris smiled, small and unguarded, then looked back at the tank.
There were a hundred ordinary reasons for standing close in a dark room. Limited space. Crowds. A shared view. The slight instinct people had to draw together when they were watching something beautiful.
Buck’s arm rested against his from shoulder to elbow, warm through the thin fabric of Eddie’s shirt.
Then Buck’s hand shifted between them, slower this time.
He let the backs of their fingers brush and stayed there, giving Eddie plenty of time to understand what he was doing.
For one suspended second, neither of them moved. The jellyfish drifted behind the glass. Theo stood with his face tipped toward the light.
Buck turned his hand over.
Palm up.
Eddie looked down.
He slid his hand into Buck’s.
Buck’s fingers closed around his carefully, as if Eddie had given him something fragile.
The feeling had been there for so long that Eddie sometimes wondered whether it had a beginning. There had been moments, sure. Buck showing up at his door with beer. Buck in the kitchen with Christopher. Eddie beneath forty feet of earth. Buck at the hospital, at the table, on the couch, in every bad year and all the good days between.
Eddie had been skilled at giving each moment another name.
Trust. Gratitude. Habit. Family.
All of those names were true.
They just weren’t complete.
Buck’s thumb moved once across Eddie’s knuckles.
Eddie watched the jellyfish and held on.
A jellyfish opened beneath the light, its body spreading like a clear umbrella.
Buck exhaled beside Eddie.
Eddie let his shoulder settle more firmly against Buck’s.
He didn’t look over.
Buck didn’t move away.
It was enough to make the room feel different.
After several minutes, Theo finally spoke at normal volume.
“They’re the very best one.”
Christopher nodded.
“Yeah,” he said. “They are.”
Theo didn’t ask anyone else.
Maybe he assumed they agreed.
Theo moved toward the next room with Christopher beside him.
Eddie and Buck followed a few steps behind, still holding hands.
At the doorway, the light changed. The quiet blue of the jellyfish room gave way to brighter walls, splashing water, and children calling across the touch pool.
Their hands loosened slowly.
Buck’s fingers slid from Eddie’s one at a time.
Eddie felt the loss of them immediately, which seemed excessive considering they were still walking shoulder to shoulder.
The touch pool was louder than the jellyfish room, full of splashing water and children calling for their parents.
Theo was immediately beside himself.
“What can I touch?”
“A sea star,” Buck said, reading the sign. “Maybe a sea cucumber.”
“Cucumber?”
“Not the food kind.”
“Why’s it called that?”
“Because it looks like one.”
Theo peered into the shallow pool.
“That does not look like a cucumber.”
Buck leaned over beside him. “A little.”
“No.”
“No," Christopher agreed. “He’s right.”
A staff member explained how to touch the animals gently with two fingers. Theo listened with the deep seriousness he usually reserved for instructions involving fire trucks or mixing ingredients.
“Two fingers,” he repeated.
“That’s right,” the staff member said.
“Not three.”
“Two is best.”
Theo looked back at Buck. “Two.”
“I heard.”
“You have big fingers.”
“I know.”
“Be gentle.”
Buck put a hand to his chest. “I’m always gentle.”
Theo reached into the water first.
He touched the back of a sea star with two careful fingers, barely breathing. The sea star did nothing visible, but Theo reacted as though it had shaken his hand.
“It’s rough,” he said, delighted. “Chris, it’s rough.”
Christopher moved nearer to the edge of the pool.
Eddie’s attention sharpened automatically. The floor was wet. Chris adjusted his crutches and checked the space before settling one against the low barrier.
Buck was already there.
He didn’t take over. He put one hand near the crutch to steady it if needed, waiting for Chris to decide.
He gave Buck a brief nod, then leaned forward and reached into the pool.
Theo crowded close beside him.
“Two fingers,” he reminded.
“I know.”
“Gentle.”
Chris touched the sea star.
Theo watched his face instead of the animal.
“Rough, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You like it?”
“It’s okay.”
Theo beamed.
Chris looked down at him.
Something shifted in his expression.
It was there and gone quickly, but Eddie saw it. The softness. The faint ache beneath it. Christopher had spent most of his childhood being the youngest person in any room full of adults who loved him. Then Theo had arrived with his sticky hands and endless questions and total certainty that Chris belonged to him.
Chris complained about him constantly.
He also answered every video call.
Eddie watched his son reach back into the water, this time guiding Theo’s hand toward the edge of a sea cucumber.
Theo squealed when it moved beneath his fingers.
Chris smiled.
Eddie had his phone out before he really decided to.
He kept the frame low, catching Theo’s delighted face, Chris’s hand guiding his toward the sea cucumber, the way Chris kept smiling even after Theo squealed loud enough to turn three heads.
Buck leaned in beside him to look at the screen.
“Here we see the elusive teenage older brother,” he murmured.
Chris looked over. “I can hear you.”
Buck lowered his voice further. “Highly protective. Pretends not to enjoy enrichment activities.”
“I’m touching a sea cucumber.”
“Exactly.”
Theo laughed and grabbed Chris’s wrist again.
Eddie kept filming.
Chris noticed the phone this time, but instead of protesting, he only shook his head and turned back to Theo.
Buck’s shoulder pressed against Eddie’s.
“Good footage,” he said quietly.
Eddie looked at the screen.
“Yeah,” he said. “It is.”
Theo took hold of Christopher’s wrist.
“Touch this one.”
Chris looked down. “Which one?”
“This little guy.”
“That’s a rock.”
“He’s still nice.”
Chris touched the rock.
Theo laughed.
Buck moved beside him.
“He’s good with Theo,” Buck said quietly.
“Yeah.”
“I mean, I knew he was. But…”
Buck trailed off.
Eddie looked at him.
Buck’s gaze stayed on the kids.
Theo was trying to convince Chris to touch a shell. Chris was explaining that the shell did not count as an animal unless something lived inside it.
Buck’s mouth curved.
“He’s really good with him.”
Eddie heard what Buck wasn’t saying.
Thank you.
For Christopher. For letting Theo attach himself so completely. For all the ways their lives had begun crossing over before either of them had thought to ask permission.
Eddie wanted to tell him he didn’t need to be grateful.
He wanted to say that Christopher loved Theo. That Eddie loved Theo. That Buck had been part of Christopher’s life for so long there was no clean line between what belonged to whom anymore.
He wanted to say that none of this felt borrowed. That Buck did not have to keep standing at the edge of it like someone might eventually ask him to leave.
He wanted to say too much.
So he said, “Chris likes being useful.”
Buck glanced at him.
“Wonder where he got that.”
“Probably his mother.”
“Definitely not the guy who rebuilt my cabinets because one hinge was loose.”
“It was crooked.”
“It was a hinge.”
Buck smiled at him for a second too long.
Eddie felt that smile in the quiet place the jellyfish room had opened.
Then Theo shouted, “BUCK, THIS ONE FEELS LIKE A BOOGER,” and the moment ended.
By the time they reached the gift shop, Theo had named twenty-three different animals as the best one.
The final ranking, as far as Eddie could determine, had jellyfish in first place, sharks second, the octopus third, sea otters fourth, and the hermit crab near the bottom due to poor audience engagement.
Theo had also decided he needed one item from every exhibit.
Eddie stopped him at the entrance.
“One thing.”
Theo looked up at him.
“One,” Eddie repeated.
Theo nodded with the grave sincerity of someone who had no intention of respecting the agreement.
Buck walked past them and immediately picked up a three-foot plush shark.
“Oh, this is incredible.”
Eddie stared at him. “You’re supposed to be helping.”
“I am helping.”
“You’re holding a shark the size of Theo.”
Buck turned it sideways, examining it. “It’s anatomically accurate.”
“It’s bright blue.”
“Some sharks look blue underwater.”
“It has eyebrows.”
Buck looked down at the shark’s face.
“They’re expressive markings.”
Theo reached for it.
Eddie caught him gently around the middle and redirected him toward a display of smaller stuffed animals.
“One thing.”
Buck tucked the shark under one arm. “I’m buying this one for Theo.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Theo loves sharks.”
“Theo currently loves jellyfish.”
Theo had already found a stuffed jellyfish and was pressing it to his cheek.
“Jellyfish is best.”
Buck looked at the shark.
Then at Theo.
Then back at the shark.
Eddie waited.
Buck put it down with visible reluctance.
For half a second, Eddie thought reason had prevailed.
Then Buck picked up a smaller one.
Eddie closed his eyes.
“Buck.”
“This one is for me.”
“You don’t need a stuffed shark.”
“You don’t know that.”
Buck held the shark against his chest and looked down at it.
Buck held the shark against his chest and looked down at its badly stitched eyebrows.
“He gets me,” Buck said.
Eddie looked at him, bright-eyed and completely serious about a stuffed animal, and felt his annoyance dissolve.
This was a recurring problem.
Buck could be ridiculous in a way that should have been exhausting. Instead, Eddie mostly wanted to stand there and watch him enjoy things.
Christopher moved past them toward a rack of T-shirts.
“You’re buying it, aren’t you?”
Buck hugged the shark closer. “Obviously.”
Chris nodded. “Yeah. I figured.”
Eddie looked at him. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am,” Chris said. “I just know when you’ve already lost.”
Eddie sighed.
The shark stayed.
Eddie followed Buck deeper into the shop, he had already collected a mug shaped like an octopus.
“No.”
Buck looked at him. “What?”
“You have enough mugs.”
“I don’t have an octopus mug.”
“You don’t need an octopus mug.”
“It has tentacles for feet.”
“I can see that.”
Buck turned it around. “And one of them makes the handle.”
“That is generally where mug handles go.”
“You’re being negative.”
“I’m thinking about our available cupboard space.”
Buck’s eyebrows lifted.
Eddie looked at the mug.
Buck looked at Eddie.
Behind them, Theo was telling Christopher that the jellyfish needed a name. Christopher suggested Jellyfish. Theo rejected this immediately.
“Our cupboard space?” Buck asked.
“You gave Chris an entire shelf for snacks.”
“He kept eating mine.”
“And half the cabinet by the sink is full of cups you bought for Theo.”
“He needs options.”
“My coffee’s in there too.”
Buck’s mouth twitched. “Yeah. It is.”
Buck looked down at the octopus mug. “So you’re saying we need to make room.”
“I’m saying you don’t need it.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
Buck put the mug in his basket and moved on before Eddie could reopen the argument.
Three steps later, he stopped in front of a display of shark-shaped tea infusers.
“Oh,” Buck said.
“No,” Eddie said.
Buck added one to the basket.
Eddie took it back out.
Buck looked at him. “Why?”
“You already have three tea infusers.”
“None of them are sharks.”
“One is a manatee.”
“Completely different animal.”
“They both sit in hot water.”
Buck took the tea infuser from him and put it back in the basket.
Eddie sighed. “You’re impossible.”
Buck smiled. “And yet you keep following me around.”
Buck found a pair of socks covered in stingrays.
He put them in the basket.
“At least two of those things are for you,” Eddie said.
“Three.”
“That’s worse.”
“Four if you count the magnet.”
“What magnet?”
Buck held up a tiny rubber jellyfish magnet.
Eddie looked at the magnet, then at Buck.
Buck smiled, hopeful enough that the argument was already over.
Eddie took it from him and dropped it into the basket.
The smile Buck gave him then was softer, pleased in a way that made the three-dollar magnet feel like a much bigger concession.
This was how Buck got him. He didn’t need an argument, or even the ridiculous shark tucked under one arm. He only had to look that pleased, and Eddie’s judgment quietly gave up.
Buck was still smiling at him.
Eddie looked down at the basket. “It’s for the fridge.”
“Of course.”
“The jellyfish were Theo’s favorite.”
“Right.”
“And it’s small.”
“Very practical.”
Eddie gave him a look.
Buck’s smile only widened.
“Dad,” Christopher called.
Eddie turned with more relief than the situation warranted.
Chris stood near the T-shirts, holding up a navy one with a sand tiger shark across the chest, its mouth open to show the same crooked rows of teeth that had stopped him at the first tank.
Eddie looked at him.
Chris glanced down at the shirt. “Can I get this?”
Eddie looked at Buck.
Buck’s eyes widened in triumph.
Christopher pointed at him. “Don’t.”
Buck pressed his lips together.
Eddie said, “Yeah, you can get it.”
Theo came over holding the stuffed jellyfish by one tentacle.
“His name is Pickle.”
Christopher looked down at it. “Pickle?”
Theo nodded. “He likes pickles.”
Chris smiled. “Yeah? What kind?”
“Green ones.”
“Good choice.”
Theo held Pickle up for inspection.
Christopher gave the jellyfish’s head a careful pat. “He looks like a Pickle.”
Theo held Pickle up to Buck.
“Can he come home?”
Buck looked at Eddie.
Eddie looked at Theo.
Theo hugged the jellyfish to his chest and waited.
Eddie had no authority here. Technically, Buck was Theo’s parent and this was Buck’s decision.
In practice, Buck had already surrendered somewhere around the words his name is Pickle.
The only mystery was why Buck was looking at Eddie like they were taking a joint vote.
That had been happening more lately.
Not with the big things. Those were still Buck’s, and Eddie was careful about that. But the small things had started drifting toward the middle. Bedtime extensions. Another cookie. Whether Theo needed a jacket. Which stuffed jellyfish would apparently be joining the family.
Buck asked with a look.
Eddie answered without thinking.
Somewhere along the way, they had developed a system.
A dangerous system, considering Eddie’s answer was usually yes and Buck knew it.
Eddie glanced at the jellyfish.
Pickle had eight uneven tentacles and a cheerful stitched smile.
He looked perfect for them.
“One thing,” Eddie reminded Theo.
Theo nodded seriously.
“Pickle is the one.”
Buck crouched. “You’re sure? Because once we buy Pickle, that’s your thing.”
“Yes.”
“You can’t change your mind at the register.”
“I won’t.”
“You changed your favorite animal twenty-three times.”
“Pickle is different.”
Buck looked at the jellyfish.
Then at Theo.
“Okay.”
Theo threw both arms around Buck’s neck.
Buck rocked back on his heels, and Eddie caught him by the shoulder before either of them could tip sideways into a display of stuffed stingrays.
Buck laughed, one arm tightening around Theo. His other hand came up over Eddie’s where it still rested on his shoulder.
Theo was clinging to Buck, Pickle crushed happily between them, which gave Eddie a perfectly reasonable excuse to stay where he was.
Then Christopher glanced over from a nearby display of keyrings.
Eddie met his eyes.
Chris’s mouth curved slightly before he looked back down at the jellyfish keyring in his hand.
Theo wriggled free of Buck and hurried over to him, holding Pickle up to Chris.
“Pickle gets to come home.”
Chris smiled and gave one of the jellyfish’s tentacles a careful tug. “Looks like it.”
Theo kissed Pickle directly on the nose.
At the register, Eddie discovered Buck had purchased the stuffed shark, the octopus mug, the stingray socks, the jellyfish magnet, the shark-shaped tea infuser, two postcards, a book about marine animals for Theo, Christopher’s shark T-shirt, and the jellyfish keyring Chris had been quietly turning over in his hand.
“You said you were buying four things for yourself,” Eddie said as they walked outside.
“I lost count.”
“You bought a shark-shaped tea infuser.”
“I drink tea.”
“You bought two postcards.”
“One’s for Maddie.”
“And the other?”
Buck glanced at him, then held it out.
“You.”
Eddie took it.
Two sea otters floated side by side on the front, holding hands.
Buck looked at it over Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie felt the moment he registered exactly what he had chosen.
“They hold hands so they don’t drift apart,” Buck said.
“I know.”
Buck rubbed the back of his neck. “It was near the register.”
“Convenient.”
“I picked it because of the otters.”
“Obviously.”
“I wasn’t trying to make a whole thing out of the hand-holding. Our hand-holding, I mean. Not that it was—” Buck stopped. “It was. But I didn’t buy this to say anything.”
Eddie let him struggle for another second.
“That’s too bad.”
Buck blinked. “What?”
Eddie slipped the postcard carefully into the side pocket of the backpack so it wouldn’t bend.
Buck stared at him.
Ahead of them, Theo made Pickle swim through the air while Christopher reminded him not to run.
Eddie started after them, smiling to himself.
Buck caught up a moment later, still pink around the ears.
They walked back toward the car.
Theo lasted less than three minutes before asking to be carried.
Buck shifted the bags to one hand and lifted him with the other. Theo curled against his chest, Pickle trapped between them.
“Are you tired?” Buck asked.
“No.”
His eyes were already closing.
“Okay.”
“I’m awake.”
“Sure.”
Christopher moved beside Buck, his pace slower now.
Eddie stayed on the other side of him.
They crossed the car park together, an uneven line of crutches, shopping bags, a half-asleep preschooler, and Buck’s ridiculous stuffed shark sticking out of the backpack.
Eddie unlocked the truck.
Buck settled Theo into his car seat, moving carefully so he didn’t wake him fully. Theo mumbled something about jellyfish and tightened his hold on Pickle.
Christopher got in beside him.
Eddie loaded the bags into the back, then came around to the driver’s seat. By the time he started the truck, Theo woke enough to announce that Pickle had also enjoyed the aquarium. Christopher argued that stuffed animals could not form opinions. Theo said Pickle’s opinion was that Chris was wrong.
Buck sided with Pickle.
Christopher told him this was why no one respected him.
Then Theo’s words got slower.
Five minutes later, he was asleep.
His head rested against the side of the car seat, mouth slightly open. One arm remained wrapped around the sea otter’s middle.
The truck grew quiet.
Buck adjusted the air-conditioning lower and turned the music down without being asked.
Christopher looked out the window.
Eddie drove.
Traffic moved steadily around them. The afternoon had softened toward evening, sunlight flashing between buildings and trees.
Buck rested one hand on the center console, palm loose against the edge, close enough to Eddie’s without quite reaching for it.
Eddie looked down once, then again.
He knew that hand.
Knew the scar near Buck’s thumb, the shape of his knuckles, the way his fingers curled around a coffee mug or Theo’s small hand or the back of Christopher’s neck when he pulled him into a hug.
Eddie had watched Buck use those hands to fix things, carry things, hold everyone he loved together.
Now one of them was waiting for him.
It was a little unfair.
Buck was already too much to look at most days. The bright eyes, the crooked smile, the way he gave his whole attention to whoever was in front of him. Eddie had built up some resistance over the years, though recent evidence suggested it had been mostly theoretical.
Buck’s hand remained open.
Patient.
Eddie set his own beside it.
Their little fingers touched first.
Buck turned his hand palm-up, slow and careful, and Eddie felt something in his chest give way with embarrassing ease.
There was no dark room this time. No excitement. No jellyfish drifting behind glass. No accidental brush of fingers he could explain later.
Eddie slid his hand into Buck's.
Buck’s fingers closed around his, warm and sure, and his thumb moved once across Eddie’s knuckles.
Eddie loved him.
He loved Buck’s hand in his. Loved the quiet concentration on his face when Eddie glanced over. Loved that Buck was trying not to smile too much and failing at it.
Eddie turned back to the road before he drove them into a curb.
He kept one hand on the wheel and held on with the other.
Theo slept. Buck’s thumb rested against the side of Eddie’s hand, warm and still. Christopher watched the city pass outside.
Then, quietly, Chris said, “It was actually pretty cool."
Eddie looked at him in the mirror.
Christopher’s gaze stayed fixed on the window.
“The aquarium?” Eddie asked.
“No, the parking lot.”
Eddie nodded. “Yeah. Good parking lot.”
Chris rolled his eyes.
A second passed.
“The jellyfish were cool,” he said.
“They were.”
“And the shark tunnel.”
“Yeah.”
“And Theo liked it.”
Eddie glanced at Theo, asleep with Pickle tucked beneath his chin.
“He did.”
Chris adjusted his head against the seat.
“So it wasn’t bad.”
Eddie let him have it.
“Glad you came.”
Buck’s hand tightened around Eddie’s.
By the time they reached Buck’s house, Theo was too deeply asleep to wake properly. He opened his eyes when Buck unbuckled him, mumbled something about sharks, then dropped his head onto Buck’s shoulder.
Buck got Theo changed while Eddie started toward the couch with a spare blanket.
Chris looked into Theo’s room, then toward the hall closet. “We can just put the spare mattress in here.”
Eddie glanced at him. “You sure?”
“Yeah.”
Twenty minutes later, Theo was asleep in his bed with one hand hanging over the edge, Pickle crushed beneath his other arm. Christopher lay on the mattress beside him, still awake and scrolling through his phone.
Eddie stood in the doorway.
“You good?”
Chris nodded.
Then he reached for his school bag, which he had dropped beside the mattress, and pulled the jellyfish keyring from his pocket.
Eddie watched him clip it carefully onto the zipper.
“It reminds me of Theo,” Chris said, not looking at him.
Eddie nodded like that was a normal thing to say and not something that made his chest ache.
“Yeah,” he said. “I can see that.”
Chris turned the keyring once between his fingers.
“He’s annoying.”
“Obviously.”
“But he’s funny.”
“Sometimes on purpose.”
Chris smiled.
From the bed, Theo made a small sound and rolled onto his side, facing the mattress.
Christopher put his phone down.
“I’ll make sure he’s okay.”
Eddie looked at him.
Chris rolled his eyes, but gently. “Go.”
“Go where?”
“Anywhere that isn’t the doorway.”
Eddie narrowed his eyes.
Eddie pulled the door nearly shut behind him, leaving it open just enough for the hall light to reach the mattress.
Buck was waiting in the kitchen.
The aquarium bags covered half the counter. The octopus mug sat beside the sink. Buck had already stuck the jellyfish magnet to the refrigerator, slightly crooked and right between a preschool calendar and a photo of Christopher holding Theo at the park.
Eddie walked over and straightened it.
Buck leaned against the counter behind him.
“You moved my magnet.”
“It was crooked.”
Eddie looked over his shoulder.
Buck was smiling.
Buck glanced toward the hallway. “They asleep?”
“Chris is pretending to be. He put the keyring on his school bag.”
Buck’s face softened. “He did?”
“Said it reminded him of Theo.”
For a second, Buck didn’t say anything.
Then he looked down, smiling to himself.
Something in Eddie gave way.
Eddie crossed the kitchen before he could reconsider.
He caught Buck’s face between both hands and pulled him in.
Buck made a startled sound against his mouth, one that disappeared when Eddie kissed him harder.
There was nothing careful about it.
Eddie had been careful all day. Careful in the dark beside the jellyfish. Careful with Buck’s hand in his. Careful not to read too much into postcards or crooked smiles or the way Buck had looked at him across every room.
He was done being careful.
Buck’s hands found Eddie’s waist and gripped tight, pulling him closer until Eddie’s hips met the edge of the counter and Buck was pressed against him from chest to thigh.
The kiss deepened.
Buck opened for him with a soft, broken sound that went straight through Eddie.
Eddie tilted Buck’s head, one thumb sliding over the edge of his birthmark, and kissed him like he had spent years waiting to find out whether Buck would kiss him back.
Buck did.
Enthusiastically.
His fingers caught in the back of Eddie’s shirt. His mouth was warm and a little desperate, all that restless Buck energy finally turned in one direction.
Buck chased him when he pulled back for air, mouth brushing Eddie’s once, twice, before resting his forehead against Eddie’s.
They were both breathing too hard for a kitchen containing several newly purchased marine-animal products.
Buck’s hands stayed on Eddie’s waist.
Eddie kept holding his face.
“Well,” Buck said.
Eddie kissed the corner of his mouth.
Buck’s eyes closed briefly.
“That was,” Buck tried again. “You just—”
“Yeah.”
“You grabbed my face.”
“I know.”
“And then you—”
“I know.”
Buck opened his eyes.
They were bright and stunned and so happy Eddie wanted to kiss him until neither of them remembered how sentences worked.
“That wasn’t because of the otter postcard, right?” Buck asked.
Eddie stared at him.
“I’m just checking.”
“You think I kissed you because of stationery?”
“It was a very suggestive postcard.”
Eddie laughed, quiet enough not to wake the Theo.
Buck smiled against his mouth.
Then something uncertain moved through his expression.
“Eddie.”
“I love you.”
Buck went completely still.
For once, Eddie didn’t feel the urge to take it back, explain it, or find a safer word. He kept his hands against Buck’s face and waited.
Buck stared at him, eyes wide.
Eddie brushed his thumb over Buck’s cheek. “You heard me.”
“I did. I’m just—” Buck swallowed. “You said that really fast.”
“I’ve had a while to think about it.”
Buck stared at him. “How long?”
Eddie brushed his thumb over Buck’s cheek. “Long enough.”
“I love you too,” Buck said, the words coming out quickly, as though he had been holding them behind his teeth. “Obviously. I mean, maybe not obviously to you, which is concerning, considering everything, but—”
“I knew.”
Buck blinked. “You knew?”
“I had a theory.”
“You let me stutter about otters.”
“It was cute.”
“It was humiliating.”
“Also cute.”
Buck kissed him again.
Slower this time, but no less certain.