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By hour thirteen, Buck had decided Eddie was trying to kill him.
Not in any particularly dramatic way. There would be no weapon, no elaborate cover-up, no episode of *Dateline* devoted to the tragic end of Evan Buckley. Eddie was simply going to keep driving until Buck died of boredom somewhere between Nashville and Los Angeles.
“Slow down.”
“I’m doing the speed limit.”
“You’re doing eight over.”
“That’s basically the speed limit.”
“That is literally not how speed limits work.”
Eddie glanced sideways at him.
Buck grinned, and the corner of Eddie’s mouth twitched before he looked back at the road. There. Victory.
Buck stretched one leg out, sneaker finding the dashboard. Eddie knocked it down without even looking.
“Seriously?”
“Feet off.”
“You know, for someone who spends a lot of time reminding me I’m not Christopher, you spend a lot of time parenting me.”
“I don’t parent you.”
“You packed snacks.”
“They’re my snacks.”
Buck reached into the center console and closed his fingers around a familiar packet.
“Peanut butter crackers.”
“Congratulations.”
“My peanut butter crackers.”
“You become unbearable when you’re hungry.”
Buck tore the packet open. “So you admit you packed them for me.”
“I admit I wanted to survive the drive.”
“Same thing.”
Eddie shook his head.
Buck watched him for another second. It had been like this for hours. Actually, it had been like this for years. Buck talking, Eddie pretending not to listen, Eddie remembering everything anyway.
Buck knew exactly how Eddie took his coffee. Eddie knew Buck wouldn’t touch the stuff from the last gas station because it had been sitting on the burner long enough to qualify as a hazardous material. Eddie knew Buck got restless if they drove too long without stopping, and Buck knew Eddie’s right shoulder had started hurting almost an hour ago.
“You want me to take over?”
“No.”
“Your shoulder hurts.”
“It’s fine.”
“Critical Diaz levels of fine.”
“Buck.”
“Eddie.”
Eddie’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
Buck pointed. “That. Exactly that.”
“You got us lost.”
“One time.”
“Three.”
“The second two were consequences of the first.”
“That does not help your case.”
Buck grinned, and Eddie fought it for approximately two seconds before laughing under his breath.
Buck counted that too.
He pulled out another cracker. “You hungry?”
“I’m driving.”
Buck held it toward him anyway.
Eddie glanced down, then opened his mouth. Buck fed him the cracker without comment.
Neither of them thought anything of it.
---
They stopped for food forty minutes later.
The diner sat just off the highway, all red vinyl booths and chrome edges, with a neon OPEN sign buzzing in the front window. Buck slid into one side of the booth while Eddie dropped into the other.
“My ass is numb.”
“Thank you for sharing.”
“I thought we didn’t keep secrets.”
“I would like to start.”
Buck picked up the menu. “You’d last six minutes.”
“With you?”
“Exactly.”
A waitress appeared with two glasses of water.
“Coffee?”
“Yes,” Eddie said immediately.
Buck looked offended. “You didn’t even ask if it was fresh.”
“I no longer care.”
“That’s how I know you’re tired.”
The waitress smiled. “You boys been driving long?”
“Too long,” Eddie said.
Buck pointed across the table. “He refuses to let me navigate.”
“Because you’re bad at it.”
“I am excellent at navigating.”
“You took us forty miles in the wrong direction.”
“It was scenic.”
“There were cows.”
“Scenery.”
The waitress laughed as she pulled out her pad. “You two always like this?”
“Yes,” they answered together.
Buck looked at Eddie.
Eddie looked at him.
The waitress laughed harder. “Right. Married a long time, then.”
Buck snorted.
Eddie went still.
It was tiny, and anyone else probably would have missed it. Buck didn’t. He knew the shift in Eddie’s shoulders, the little crease that appeared between his eyebrows when something caught him wrong.
The waitress didn’t notice.
“What can I get you?”
Buck ordered, and Eddie did the same.
By the time she walked away, Buck had already decided not to push. People assumed things. They always had. Two men who had spent enough years in each other’s space apparently looked like something.
Buck didn’t mind.
At least, he didn’t think he did.
He ripped the wrapper from his straw while, across from him, Eddie reached for his water.
“You okay?”
Eddie looked up. “Yeah.”
“You got weird.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
“I’m tired.”
Buck watched him.
Eddie took a drink.
Buck let it go.
The food arrived quickly, and Buck stole one of Eddie’s fries.
Eddie slapped his hand away. “You have your own.”
“Yours are better.”
“They came out of the same fryer.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I watched her carry them over together.”
Buck stole another.
Eddie moved the plate away.
Buck reached farther.
“Are you five?”
“Give me a fry.”
“No.”
“You let Chris have some.”
“Chris is my son.”
“I’m your best friend.”
“That does not give you fry privileges.”
“It should.”
Eddie stared at him before shoving the plate into the middle.
Buck smiled. “See? Communication.”
“You’re exhausting.”
“You’d miss me.”
Eddie looked up.
Something changed in his face, and Buck’s smile faded a little.
Then, from two booths over, came a muttered, “Jesus. In front of kids.”
Buck only caught the end of it. The tone was enough.
Eddie heard all of it.
His head snapped toward the man sitting with a woman and two children. The guy looked away too late, and Eddie’s chair scraped against the floor.
Buck caught his wrist before he could stand.
“Don’t.”
Eddie looked at him. “I heard him.”
“So did I.”
“You heard half of it.”
“I got enough.”
Eddie’s jaw flexed.
Buck tightened his grip. “Eddie.”
That did it. It was the voice Buck used on calls when he needed Eddie to actually hear him.
Eddie looked down at Buck’s hand around his wrist. His pulse jumped beneath Buck’s thumb, and something passed over his face before he pulled his hand away.
“Fine.”
Buck watched him. “You sure?”
“Yeah.”
The rest of the meal never quite recovered. Buck talked. Eddie answered. Neither mentioned the guy again.
When the waitress eventually dropped the bill between them and asked, “Together or separate?” Eddie said, “Together,” before Buck could open his mouth.
Buck looked at him.
Eddie looked at the check.
---
Ten miles later, Buck decided the silence was worse than the diner.
He lasted another three before giving in.
“So.”
“No.”
Buck turned toward Eddie. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“That’s profiling.”
“It’s experience.”
Buck smiled.
Eddie didn’t.
The smile disappeared.
Buck watched the road for a few seconds. “Apparently we’re giving married couple today.”
Eddie answered too quickly.
“We’re not.”
Buck stopped.
Eddie did too, in a different way. His whole body seemed to realize what his mouth had done one second too late.
Buck looked at him.
Eddie stared ahead.
The tires hummed against the road.
Buck waited, but nothing came.
“Yeah,” he said eventually, turning toward the window. “I know.”
“Buck.”
“It was a joke.”
“I know.”
“Okay.”
Buck reached for his phone because he did know. He had never expected anything from Eddie.
Even after Tommy. Even after figuring himself out had made him look backward at parts of his life differently.
Eddie had ended up in those thoughts. Of course he had.
But there was too much attached to Eddie. Christopher. The station. Sunday dinners and late-night phone calls and a house Buck walked into without knocking.
Buck wasn’t going to pull on that thread and risk watching everything unravel.
So he hadn’t.
Usually.
And Eddie saying *we’re not* still hurt.
Buck opened a game on his phone.
Five minutes later, Eddie reached into the console. Usually he would have tossed the crackers at Buck.
Instead, he set them between them.
Buck noticed.
He hated that he noticed.
---
An hour passed.
Buck talked less.
Eddie got quieter.
Not normal Eddie quiet. Different.
Finally, Eddie said, “You’ve been quiet.”
Buck kept his eyes on his phone. “You complain when I talk.”
“I complain while you talk. Different thing.”
Buck almost smiled. “I’m tired.”
“You said you weren’t.”
“I changed my mind.”
Eddie was quiet.
Buck tapped his screen, lost the game and started again.
“You’re doing it.”
Buck looked up. “Doing what?”
“Pulling away.”
That landed harder than Buck wanted it to.
“I’m sitting eighteen inches away from you.”
“You know what I mean.”
Buck did.
That was the problem with knowing someone this long. They learned your tricks. Eddie knew Buck got louder when he was nervous and quieter when something actually hurt. Buck knew Eddie crossed his arms when he felt cornered and cleaned when he had too much in his head.
“I’m not pulling away.”
“You are.”
“I’m tired.”
“Right.”
Buck looked back out the window. “You’re the one who said it.”
Eddie’s grip tightened. “Said what?”
Buck shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Buck.”
“Forget it.”
“Don’t do that.”
Buck laughed once. “You literally invented doing that.”
Eddie opened his mouth.
Rain struck the windshield.
One drop, then another, and then suddenly all of them.
The sky opened so quickly Eddie swore and flipped the wipers to full speed. Within seconds the road disappeared behind blurred headlights and sheets of water.
Buck checked his phone. A weather warning appeared before he even got the map open.
“Oh.”
“I don’t like that.”
“It’s fine.”
“That made it worse.”
“There’s some flooding ahead.”
“How much is some?”
Buck zoomed in. “Do you want the optimistic answer?”
“No.”
“There’s a road closure.”
Eddie closed his eyes for one second. “Of course there is.”
“Two exits ahead.”
“You couldn’t have checked earlier?”
“I was busy.”
“Playing that stupid knight game?”
“The knight has a name.”
“I don’t care about the knight.”
Buck gasped. “Sir Reginald heard that.”
Eddie stared at him.
Buck waited.
A tiny smile appeared, then disappeared.
It was enough.
Buck’s chest loosened for the first time in an hour.
---
The motel was twenty-five minutes off the interstate.
Buck stared through the rain-streaked windshield at the flickering neon sign.
“No.”
Eddie shut off the engine. “Yes.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You want to sleep in the car?”
“I want to keep driving.”
“The road is closed.”
“There are other roads.”
“Not ones I’m driving tonight.”
Buck looked at him. “You admit you’re tired.”
“I admit I don’t want to drown because you’re impatient.”
“The reviews say—”
“You looked at the reviews?”
“Obviously.”
“Why?”
“Because this place looks like somebody named Norman owns it.”
Eddie opened his door.
“You’re dramatic.”
“You’re going inside first.”
“Because it’s raining.”
“You’re always the guy who goes into the basement.”
“I don’t go into basements.”
“The well.”
“That was a well.”
“Outdoor basement.”
Eddie stopped halfway out of the car. “You have said some incredibly stupid things in eight years.”
Buck smiled. “Top ten?”
“Top three.”
The door slammed.
Buck sat there for another second before following.
---
The woman behind the desk looked like she had seen every kind of stranded traveler imaginable and disliked all of them equally.
“One room,” Eddie said.
She tapped at the computer.
Buck leaned against the counter, dripping rain onto the mat. “Preferably one without a documented murder.”
She looked up.
Buck straightened. “Undocumented is fine.”
Eddie rubbed a hand over his face.
“One room left,” she said.
“We’ll take it.”
“One queen bed.”
Eddie paused.
Half a second, maybe less.
Buck still felt it.
A few hours ago, he would have made a joke.
Instead, he said, “I’ll take the floor.”
Eddie turned. “What?”
“I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“Why?”
Buck shrugged. “Because there’s one bed.”
“We’ve shared beds before.”
“Not really.”
“We’ve slept in the same room.”
“Not the same thing.”
Eddie stared at him.
Buck wished the woman would stop pretending she wasn’t listening.
“It’s fine.”
“No.”
“Eddie.”
“You’re not sleeping on that floor.”
They both looked down.
The carpet had once been red.
Probably.
Buck grimaced.
Eddie pointed. “Exactly.”
“I can put towels down.”
“You’re six-three. You’re not sleeping on bathroom towels.”
“Then you take the floor.”
“Why does anybody have to take the floor?”
Buck looked at him.
Eddie stared back, and understanding moved over his face.
“Buck.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“You think I don’t want to share a bed with you.”
The woman behind the desk cleared her throat.
Neither of them looked at her.
Buck shoved his hands into his pockets. “I think it’s been a weird day.”
“Because of what I said.”
Buck didn’t answer.
Eddie’s jaw tightened.
The woman slid the key card toward them. “Room twelve.”
Buck took it.
“Great.”
Then he walked out.
---
The room was terrible.
That helped.
It was difficult to have any kind of emotionally charged moment while Buck inspected a chair like it might attack him.
“I’m not sitting on that.”
Eddie dropped his bag beside the bed. “No one asked you to.”
“It’s looking at me.”
“It’s a chair.”
“It has intentions.”
Eddie walked into the bathroom, and Buck heard the shower curtain rings scrape.
“There are two towels.”
“Luxury.”
“And no bodies.”
“You checked?”
Eddie appeared in the doorway. “Do you want the shower first?”
Buck shrugged. “Sure.”
He grabbed his bag.
Eddie moved aside.
Usually Buck would have bumped his shoulder on the way past. Nothing deliberate, just contact. The kind neither of them thought about anymore.
Buck angled around him instead.
Eddie noticed.
Buck knew because his eyes followed him into the bathroom.
He shut the door.
---
Eddie stood in the middle of the motel room and stared at the bathroom.
Buck was giving him space.
It shouldn’t have bothered him.
Instead, Eddie hated it.
Buck had stopped nudging him, stopped reaching across him, stopped taking things straight from his hand. Now he had offered to sleep on a motel floor rather than lie beside him because of something Eddie had said. Something Eddie hadn’t even meant the way Buck had heard it.
He sat on the edge of the bed.
The springs groaned.
He hadn’t been uncomfortable when the waitress thought they were married.
That was the problem.
He hadn’t wanted to correct her.
Not immediately.
For one second, he had looked at Buck across the table and—
Eddie stood.
“No.”
He grabbed a bottle of water, opened it and drank half.
The shower ran behind the bathroom door.
He could picture Buck in there without trying.
That meant nothing.
He had changed beside Buck at the station hundreds of times. Seen him shirtless, bruised, filthy, bleeding. Buck’s body had never been some forbidden mystery.
So why did the fact that he was ten feet away behind a closed door suddenly make Eddie feel like his skin was too tight?
He paced toward the window.
Rain hammered the glass.
He was tired.
That was all. Too many hours driving, too little sleep, a weird day.
Buck came out ten minutes later with damp curls, gray sweatpants and a T-shirt Eddie recognized because it had lived in a drawer at Eddie’s house for months before Buck finally remembered to take it home.
Eddie stared.
Buck stopped. “What?”
“Nothing.”
Buck’s mouth tightened. “Right.”
There was that distance again.
“Buck.”
“Shower’s free.”
Buck walked past him without touching.
Eddie stood there for another second before grabbing his things.
---
When Eddie came back out, Buck was already on the bed with his phone in his hand and his back against the headboard.
Eddie tossed his clothes onto the chair.
Buck looked up. “You’re putting your clothes on the murder chair?”
“They’re clothes.”
“You’re gonna regret that when they hatch.”
Eddie almost laughed.
Buck looked down before he could.
Eddie climbed into bed.
The mattress dipped, and Buck adjusted automatically.
That tiny movement got him.
Buck knew which side Eddie slept on. Eddie knew Buck hated having the sheet tucked around his feet. Buck knew Eddie slept colder.
None of it had ever required discussion.
Eddie switched off the lamp.
Darkness filled the room.
Buck slid under the covers.
So did Eddie.
Six inches separated them.
It felt ridiculous.
Buck shifted, then shifted again.
A minute passed.
Finally, Buck said, “You know I’m not going to accidentally bisexual you in your sleep, right?”
Eddie turned his head. “What?”
“I’m just making sure.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Yeah.”
“That isn’t what this is.”
Buck went quiet.
Eddie immediately wished he had stopped there.
“What is it?”
Eddie stared into the dark. “Go to sleep.”
Buck breathed out.
“Okay.”
Then he rolled away.
Eddie closed his eyes.
Sleep didn’t come.
---
He remembered the waitress.
*Married a long time, then.*
His first thought hadn’t been *she thinks I’m gay*. It hadn’t really been about being a man with another man at all.
It had been Buck.
Buck stealing his fries. Buck feeding him a cracker in the car like it was the most natural thing in the world. Buck arguing about directions. Buck beside him.
And for one stupid second, Eddie had thought, *What if she was right?*
Not about everything.
Just about Buck.
That thought had followed him out of the diner, into the car, into the rain, into this bed.
Eddie opened his eyes.
Buck’s back was turned toward him.
He knew that shape. Could pick Buck out in turnout gear from half a block away. He knew the scar on his shoulder, knew the laugh he used when he was actually amused and the one he used when he wanted everyone to think he was.
He thought about Christopher younger, asleep across Buck’s chest on Eddie’s couch, both of them taking up so much room Eddie had ended up sitting on the floor.
He thought about Shannon dying and Buck simply being there afterward.
The hospital room where Eddie had told him about the will.
Buck hanging from the ladder after the lightning strike, utterly still.
That one hurt enough that Eddie moved on quickly.
Maybe there wasn’t a moment. Maybe nothing had switched from one thing into another. Maybe Buck had just become so much a part of Eddie’s life that Eddie had stopped asking what that meant.
Buck shifted.
Then, without turning over, said, “You’re thinking too loud.”
Eddie almost laughed. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I was trying.”
“Try harder.”
“I was until you started having an existential crisis six inches from me.”
Eddie went still.
Buck rolled onto his back. “You want me to ask?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
Silence settled between them.
Five seconds.
Ten.
“Are you going to ask anyway?”
“Probably.”
Eddie huffed.
Buck turned his head. “Did it bother you?”
There it was.
Eddie’s throat tightened. “What?”
“Don’t.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You know what I mean.”
Eddie looked away.
“The diner,” Buck said, his voice dropping. “When they thought we were together.”
Eddie said nothing.
“If it bothered you, you can tell me.”
“It didn’t.”
Buck looked at him.
“I mean it.”
“Okay.”
“No.”
Buck frowned.
Eddie dragged a hand over his face. “That isn’t the problem.”
“Then what is?”
Eddie’s heart pounded.
“It didn’t bother me.”
“I heard you.”
“That’s the problem.”
Buck stopped moving.
Eddie closed his eyes.
Too late now.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Eddie.”
“I don’t.”
Buck stayed quiet.
That was somehow worse than if he’d pushed.
“When she said it…” Eddie stopped.
Buck waited.
“I thought about it.”
“About us?”
Eddie’s mouth went dry. “Yeah.”
Buck went very still.
Eddie turned his head. “I wasn’t thinking about her assuming I was with a man.”
Buck’s expression shifted.
“I was thinking about her assuming I was with you.”
Buck’s lips parted.
“And then that guy said what he said, and I got angry.”
“Because he thought we were together?”
“No.”
Eddie shook his head. “Because he looked at you like there was something wrong with you.”
Buck blinked.
“I wanted to hit him.”
“That part isn’t new.”
Despite himself, Eddie smiled. “No.”
The smile disappeared almost immediately.
“And then you made the married joke.”
Buck’s shoulders tightened. “I shouldn’t have.”
“No. That’s not what I mean.”
Eddie sat up.
Buck did too.
“I said we weren’t.”
“We aren’t.”
“I know.”
Buck’s voice had gone careful again.
Eddie hated it.
“I hated the way you looked at me.”
Buck looked away.
“I wasn’t trying to say being with you would be…”
Eddie stopped.
Buck looked back. “Would be what?”
Eddie opened his mouth.
Nothing came.
There it was.
Being with Buck.
The words themselves felt dangerous.
Eddie got out of bed. There were maybe three feet of space before he hit the wall.
Buck watched him.
“I don’t know how to do this.”
“You don’t have to do anything.”
“That’s not helping.”
“I’m not trying to make you.”
“I know.”
Eddie rubbed the back of his neck. “I was married.”
Buck’s expression softened. “I know.”
“To a woman.”
Buck went quiet.
“I’ve only ever dated women.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve never…”
Eddie stopped.
Buck waited.
“I’ve never had to ask myself this before.”
Buck didn’t move.
Eddie laughed once, frustrated. “Maybe there were things I didn’t see.”
“Okay.”
“Maybe there weren’t.”
Eddie shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Buck’s voice softened. “You don’t have to.”
“I know, but—”
Eddie looked at him.
There was one thing. One thing that didn’t turn to static when he tried to examine it.
“But I know I want you.”
Buck moved.
One instinctive step, like his body had made the choice before the rest of him caught up.
Then he stopped himself.
Eddie saw that too.
His heart kicked hard.
“I don’t know when that happened.”
Buck stayed where he was.
“I don’t even know if happened is the right word.”
“Eddie.”
“I thought this was just…”
Eddie gestured helplessly between them.
“Us.”
Buck stared at him.
“I thought this was what loving my best friend felt like.”
His throat tightened.
“And maybe some of it is.”
Buck’s lips parted.
Eddie swallowed. “But it’s not all of it.”
Silence.
Eddie’s hands started shaking, and he shoved them into his pockets.
“I love you.”
Buck went completely still.
Eddie’s voice dropped.
“I love you, Buck.”
There was no catastrophe. No lightning. Just Buck standing in front of him looking, unexpectedly, scared.
Eddie frowned.
Buck inhaled. “You don’t have to figure out what you are tonight.”
Something in Eddie’s chest loosened.
“Or tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
Buck stepped back.
Half a step.
Eddie felt it.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Buck.”
Buck laughed quietly. “Seriously?”
“You’ve been doing that all night.”
“So have you.”
“I’m trying to stop.”
Buck looked at him.
“So stop.”
Buck’s shoulders dropped.
“I believe you.”
Eddie frowned.
“When you say you love me.”
“I do.”
“I know.”
“Then what?”
Buck sat on the edge of the bed.
His hands rubbed against his sweatpants. Eddie knew that habit. Hospital waiting rooms. Bad calls. Nerves.
Buck stared at his hands.
“I’m scared you’re going to wake up tomorrow and hate that you told me.”
Eddie stopped.
Buck laughed once, nothing funny in it.
“You’re allowed to not know what any of this means.”
“Buck.”
“You are.”
He looked up.
“But I’m not…”
Buck stopped, his jaw tightening.
“I’m not neutral here, Eddie.”
Something raw broke through.
Eddie stared at him.
Buck looked away.
“If you kiss me tonight, I’m not going to be able to pretend it was just you figuring something out.”
Eddie’s chest hurt.
Buck’s voice dropped. “I want this too much for that.”
That hit harder than Eddie expected.
“So yeah, take your time. Be confused. Whatever.”
Buck rubbed his hands again.
“But I can’t be something you try and then wish you hadn’t.”
Eddie sat beside him, not touching yet.
“I wouldn’t be ashamed of you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“You don’t know what you want.”
“I know I want you.”
Buck’s head snapped toward him.
Again, his body shifted forward.
Again, he stopped. Barely.
Eddie saw how much effort that cost him.
“I don’t know what wanting you means about me,” Eddie said.
Buck didn’t move.
“But it isn’t curiosity.”
Eddie’s voice dropped.
“It’s you.”
Buck closed his eyes for just a second.
When he opened them again, the fear was still there.
Eddie asked quietly, “Have you thought about it?”
Buck blinked. “About what?”
“Me.”
Buck looked away.
Eddie’s heart stumbled.
“Buck.”
“This is already complicated.”
“That isn’t a no.”
Buck huffed. “Sometimes.”
The word was nearly swallowed.
“Sometimes?”
“Don’t make me repeat it.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
Buck rubbed the back of his neck. “After Tommy, I guess. After I figured myself out enough to start looking backward.”
“At us?”
Buck gave him a look. “Yeah.”
Eddie waited.
Buck’s shoulders lifted and fell.
“There were things that made more sense afterward.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
Buck stared at him.
“You were straight.”
Eddie winced.
“Or I thought you were. You thought you were. Whatever.”
Buck shook his head.
“And you’re Eddie.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re not some guy.”
The answer came immediately.
Buck looked irritated now, but not with Eddie. With himself.
“You’re…”
He stopped and looked at the wall.
“Your house is where I go.”
Eddie frowned.
Buck laughed softly. “When I don’t want to be alone. When I’m bored. When something goes wrong. When nothing goes wrong.”
His voice got quieter.
“I show up because I know you’ll open the door.”
Eddie’s throat tightened.
“So yeah. I thought about it.”
Buck shrugged.
“And then I stopped.”
“Why?”
“Because I already had you.”
Eddie stared.
“Not like this.”
Buck gestured vaguely between them.
“But I had you in my life.”
His voice went rough.
“And Chris. And dinners at your house. And someone who knows when I’m lying about being okay.”
Buck looked down.
“I wasn’t going to risk all of that because maybe I wanted something else too.”
Eddie’s eyes burned.
Buck smiled faintly.
“I thought that had to be enough.”
Something inside Eddie broke open.
He reached out.
His hand stopped before Buck’s face.
Buck looked at it, then at him.
Eddie’s fingers were shaking.
He almost pulled away.
Instead, he touched Buck’s jaw.
Buck inhaled sharply.
Warm skin. Rough stubble. Real.
Eddie’s thumb moved once.
Buck’s eyes dropped to his mouth.
Eddie leaned in.
Buck’s hand came up against his chest.
Eddie stopped instantly.
The good feeling vanished so fast it hurt.
Buck saw it.
“Eddie.”
Eddie looked at him.
“I’m not saying no.”
“Then what?”
Buck’s hand stayed where it was, and his voice softened.
“Tell me what you want.”
Eddie didn’t hesitate.
Not this time.
“I want to kiss you.”
Buck’s breath caught.
“Okay.”
Eddie waited.
Buck’s mouth curved faintly.
“So kiss me.”
Eddie did.
He had expected something enormous. Some obvious line between before and after.
Instead, Buck’s mouth was warm and soft.
Eddie knew the shape of his face beneath his hand. Knew the smell of his shampoo. Knew the way Buck breathed in when something surprised him.
Familiar.
That was what startled Eddie.
Not that it felt strange.
That it didn’t.
Buck stayed still and let Eddie decide how much, how long.
Eddie pressed closer.
His thumb moved across Buck’s cheek. His heart pounded beneath Buck’s palm.
Then Eddie pulled back, barely an inch.
Buck opened his eyes.
Rain tapped against the window. The air conditioner rattled. Somebody walked past outside.
That was it.
Buck was still Buck.
Eddie let out a breath.
Buck searched his face.
“You okay?”
Eddie laughed quietly. “That felt…”
Buck waited.
“Normal.”
Buck’s mouth curved. “Is that bad?”
Eddie looked at his mouth.
“No.”
He kissed him again.
This time Buck met him.
The difference was immediate.
Buck’s hand slid around Eddie’s side. Still careful, but no longer pretending he didn’t want him.
Eddie felt it in the way Buck kissed him back, in the way his fingers flexed against Eddie’s shirt, in the quiet sound that escaped him when Eddie’s hand moved into his hair.
Heat curled through Eddie fast enough to startle him.
He pulled back.
Buck loosened his grip immediately.
“You okay?”
Eddie breathed out. “I think so.”
“That sounded convincing.”
“Shut up.”
Buck smiled.
Eddie stared at him.
There were still a thousand questions. None of them made Eddie want to move away.
So he kissed Buck again.
Just because he could.
Buck laughed into his mouth.
That felt even better.
When Eddie pulled away, Buck said, “That one seemed pretty intentional.”
“It was.”
“Just checking.”
“You ask too many questions.”
“You like that about me.”
Eddie opened his mouth with a comeback ready, then stopped.
Buck’s smile faded.
Eddie touched his cheek again.
“Yeah.”
Buck went still.
“I do.”
---
They lay back down eventually.
Buck stayed on his side.
Eddie stayed on his.
For maybe thirty seconds.
Their knees bumped.
Neither moved.
Buck stared at him.
“This is weird.”
Eddie frowned. “You just spent twenty minutes telling me it didn’t have to be.”
“No. This part.”
“What part?”
Buck looked genuinely annoyed with himself. “I don’t know what to do with my hands.”
Eddie stared at him.
Then laughed.
Buck shoved his shoulder. “I’m serious.”
“You’ve never had trouble touching me before.”
Buck’s expression changed.
“That was before.”
The word landed.
Eddie reached between them, took Buck’s wrist and pulled his arm over his waist.
Buck blinked.
“There.”
Buck’s fingers settled against Eddie’s back.
“You sure?”
“Buck.”
“Right.”
Eddie moved closer, slowly, until his forehead ended up near Buck’s collarbone.
Buck’s hand moved once along his back.
Eddie closed his eyes.
It felt like Buck.
That was all.
Buck’s heartbeat was fast beneath Eddie’s palm.
He smiled. “You’re nervous.”
“No.”
“You’re terrible at lying.”
“So are you.”
“Not the point.”
Buck’s hand moved again.
“What happens tomorrow?”
There it was.
Eddie opened his eyes. “I don’t know.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
Eddie lifted his head. “I’m going to have things to figure out.”
Buck nodded.
“And I don’t want you sitting around waiting for me while I do.”
Buck frowned. “I’m not—”
“No.”
Eddie shook his head.
“This isn’t just happening to me.”
Buck went quiet.
Eddie struggled for the words.
“You get to be scared too. Or pissed off. Or whatever.”
That got a tiny smile.
“Very generous.”
“Shut up.”
Buck’s fingers pressed against his back, and Eddie settled down again.
“Can tomorrow just be tomorrow?”
Buck was quiet for a moment.
Then he said, “Yeah.”
Another silence settled between them.
Buck’s breathing never quite slowed.
Eddie knew he was still awake. Still thinking.
So Eddie said, “This isn’t only tonight.”
Buck went completely still.
Eddie lifted his head.
Buck looked at him with so much cautious hope it hurt.
“You don’t have to promise anything.”
“I’m not.”
Eddie’s thumb moved against Buck’s shirt.
“I’m saying I’m not waking up and pretending this didn’t happen.”
Buck watched him.
“And I’m not calling it a mistake.”
Something in Buck relaxed.
Eddie kissed him slowly, no question attached.
When he pulled away, Buck’s eyes stayed closed another second.
“Okay,” Buck whispered.
Eddie lay back down against him.
This time they stopped talking.
---
Eddie woke with hair in his face.
He frowned.
His first thought was that Buck needed a haircut.
His second was that Buck had somehow managed to take over most of a queen-size bed.
His third was, *Oh.*
His eyes opened.
Buck was asleep half on top of him, one arm across Eddie’s waist, their legs tangled, his face tucked into Eddie’s neck.
Memory arrived all at once.
The diner.
The motel.
*I know I want you.*
*I love you.*
*So kiss me.*
Eddie stared at the ceiling.
His heart started racing.
He had kissed Buck.
A man.
His best friend.
He had kissed him more than once and then slept wrapped around him.
Eddie swallowed.
He had spent most of his life assuming he knew this about himself. One of those facts that simply existed.
And now?
Had he always been wrong? Had there been things he had never recognized? Did that matter?
What would Christopher think?
His parents.
Old rules he hadn’t realized he still carried.
The church.
Eddie’s stomach tightened.
Buck made a sleepy sound and moved closer, completely unconscious.
Eddie’s arm tightened around him automatically.
He froze and looked down.
Buck didn’t wake.
Eddie waited for the panic to spike.
It didn’t.
His brain was still loud. His chest was still tight.
But Buck was warm against him.
Familiar.
Annoyingly heavy.
Eddie closed his eyes.
Whatever scared him, it wasn’t Buck.
That settled somewhere solid.
A minute later, Buck stirred.
Eddie felt the exact moment he woke. His breathing changed, his fingers flexed once against Eddie’s side, and then he went still.
Slowly, Buck lifted his head.
His hair was flattened on one side.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
Buck looked at him.
Really looked.
Sleep disappeared, and yesterday’s fear came back.
Buck’s arm started sliding away.
“Hey.”
Eddie caught his wrist.
Buck stopped. “What?”
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Leaving before I ask you to.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“You know what I mean.”
Buck looked away.
Eddie exhaled. “I’m freaking out.”
Buck froze.
His face emptied.
“Okay.”
He started moving away.
Eddie tightened his grip.
“Buck.”
“You said—”
“Not about you.”
Buck stopped.
Eddie sat up.
Buck did too, leaving space between them.
“I am freaking out.”
“Got that.”
“Because…”
Eddie rubbed a hand over his face.
“You’re a man.”
Buck went very still.
Eddie closed his eyes.
“Jesus. That came out wrong.”
“A little.”
“That isn’t what I mean.”
Buck waited.
“I mean I spent my whole life thinking I knew this about myself.”
Eddie looked at him.
“And now I don’t.”
Buck said nothing.
“I don’t know what that means yet. I don’t know what I tell anyone. I don’t know what happens when we get home.”
He looked down at Buck’s wrist still caught in his hand.
“But I know about you.”
Buck’s fingers shifted.
Eddie looked back up.
“That part isn’t confusing.”
Something changed in Buck’s face.
Eddie squeezed his hand.
“I woke up and immediately had an existential crisis.”
“Sounds fun.”
“It sucked.”
Buck almost smiled.
“And then you moved closer.”
Eddie swallowed.
“And I didn’t want you to stop.”
Buck’s smile appeared slowly.
Eddie rolled his eyes. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking loudly.”
“That’s my line.”
“I stole it.”
Buck laughed.
The sound loosened something in Eddie.
He leaned forward and stopped close enough that Buck could meet him halfway.
Buck didn’t.
He waited.
Eddie understood.
So Eddie closed the distance.
Morning was different.
There was no dark room, no rain loud enough to hide behind.
He could see Buck’s eyes close, the crease beside them, the way Buck’s hand lifted and then hesitated before touching him.
Eddie caught it and put it against his side.
Buck breathed out against his mouth.
Eddie kissed him again.
Daylight.
No accident. No excuse.
When he pulled away, Buck stayed close.
“So.”
“No.”
Buck laughed. “You don’t know what I was gonna ask.”
“You were going to ask what this makes us.”
“I was.”
“I need coffee before you make me name something else.”
“Boyfriends?”
“Buck.”
“Dating?”
“Buck.”
“Friends who—”
“Can I have twelve hours?”
Buck smiled. “Yeah.”
Eddie nodded, then saw the tiny uncertainty beneath it.
“Twelve hours before I name it.”
Buck went quiet.
“Not twelve hours before I decide if I want it.”
The smile came back.
Real this time.
“Okay.”
---
Buck drove.
Eddie claimed it was because his shoulder hurt.
Buck knew it was at least partly because Eddie had barely slept.
He didn’t say that.
He was trying very hard not to ruin this before they crossed the California state line.
So naturally they made it eleven minutes before arguing.
“You’re in the wrong lane.”
“I’m following the GPS.”
“It says stay right.”
“I am right.”
“It means stay right at the fork.”
“This is the fork.”
“This is not the fork.”
Buck pointed through the windshield. “There are two roads.”
“That doesn’t make it a fork.”
“What do you think a fork is?”
“Not that.”
“You know what? You drive.”
“I offered yesterday.”
“You complained yesterday.”
“You got us stuck in a motel.”
“The weather got us stuck in a motel.”
“Your route got us onto that road.”
“My route got you kissed.”
Silence.
Buck realized what he had said.
He kept his eyes on the road.
Beside him, Eddie turned slowly.
Buck fought the smile.
Failed.
Eddie started laughing.
Buck glanced at him.
“That’s what I thought.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“You kissed me.”
“I’m reconsidering.”
Buck’s smile disappeared theatrically. “That’s really insensitive after everything I shared.”
“Watch the road.”
“I’m vulnerable now.”
“You’re annoying now.”
“I’ve always been annoying.”
“True.”
Buck put one hand over his heart.
Eddie shook his head.
Buck kept smiling.
This part was easy.
The same arguments. The same rhythm. Eddie still Eddie beside him.
Buck had been afraid the kiss would turn everything strange.
Maybe it had.
A little.
But it hadn’t taken anything away.
At the next red light, Eddie moved.
Buck caught it from the corner of his eye.
Eddie’s hand rested on the center console, palm up.
Buck stared.
Eddie raised his eyebrows like this wasn’t a huge thing, like Buck’s chest hadn’t just gone tight.
Buck put his hand in Eddie’s.
The light changed.
He started driving.
Neither said anything.
Buck’s thumb moved once over Eddie’s knuckles before he could stop himself.
Eddie looked down.
Buck’s stomach dropped.
Maybe too much.
Maybe—
Eddie’s grip tightened.
Buck looked at him.
Eddie was staring out the window, a little tense but not pulling away.
Buck understood.
This was new for Eddie.
Buck turned the radio up slightly.
A song he knew came on, and he started humming badly. Intentionally badly after Eddie glanced over.
“Please stop.”
Buck smiled. “I’m creating atmosphere.”
“You’re creating a headache.”
“You used to like this song.”
“I did before you murdered it.”
Buck sang louder.
Eddie laughed.
He didn’t let go.
Buck looked back at the road.
For the first time since Eddie had said *I know I want you*, Buck let himself believe that maybe tomorrow had actually arrived.
And Eddie was still here.
---
Christopher opened the front door before Eddie got his key into the lock.
“You took forever.”
“Hello to you too.”
Chris moved aside.
Buck came up behind Eddie with both duffel bags over one shoulder.
Christopher looked at Buck.
Then Eddie.
Then Buck again.
Eddie immediately felt suspicious.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Buck made a noise behind him.
Eddie elbowed him.
“Ow.”
Christopher narrowed his eyes. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
Buck snorted.
Eddie turned. “Do you want to go home?”
Buck’s eyebrows rose.
Christopher’s did too.
Eddie heard it after he said it.
Buck recovered first. “You just spent two days trying to get me home.”
“Your home.”
Buck’s expression changed.
Very slightly.
Christopher caught it.
Of course he did.
Eddie cleared his throat. “Did you eat?”
“There’s nothing here.”
“There’s food.”
“There are eggs.”
“Eggs are food.”
“I’m not making eggs.”
Buck leaned toward Eddie. “He gets that from you.”
“I cook.”
“You make four things.”
“I make more than four things.”
“Name five.”
Eddie stared at him.
Buck smiled. “You can’t.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
The words landed.
Buck’s smile disappeared.
Not because he thought Eddie meant it.
Because now they meant something else too.
Eddie felt heat crawl up his neck.
Christopher looked between them.
“Okay, you’re definitely weird.”
“You’re hungry,” Eddie said.
“I can be both.”
He walked toward the kitchen.
Buck waited until he was a few steps ahead, then murmured, “Smooth.”
“Shut up.”
They followed.
Christopher stood in front of the open refrigerator.
“Ingredients aren’t food.”
“That sentence makes no sense.”
“It does to me,” Buck said.
Eddie pointed at him. “Do not encourage him.”
Buck leaned past Eddie for something on the counter.
Their hands brushed.
Buck immediately started pulling away.
Habit now.
Giving Eddie the choice.
Eddie looked down, then turned his palm over, caught Buck’s fingers and held them.
Buck went completely still.
So did Eddie.
Christopher turned from the refrigerator.
His eyes dropped.
Eddie’s stomach tightened.
There it was.
The first real thing.
Not a hypothetical conversation in a motel. Not a question waiting for another day.
Christopher looked at their hands.
Then at Eddie.
Then at Buck.
Eddie waited.
Chris frowned slightly. “Okay.”
Eddie blinked. “Okay?”
Christopher shrugged. “Yeah.”
Buck looked like he had forgotten how breathing worked.
Eddie hesitated. “We should probably talk.”
Christopher nodded. “Okay.”
A beat passed.
“After pizza?”
Eddie almost laughed. “After pizza.”
“Good.”
Christopher pulled out his phone. “Because there is literally nothing here.”
“There are eggs.”
“I’m not eating eggs.”
He walked out of the kitchen already scrolling through pizza options.
Eddie stood there with Buck beside him, their hands still joined.
Buck finally breathed out.
“That was…”
“Don’t.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“You were absolutely going to say something.”
Buck smiled.
Eddie looked toward the doorway Christopher had disappeared through, then back at him.
There would be conversations. Real ones.
There were still pieces of himself Eddie didn’t understand, questions he didn’t even know how to ask yet.
But Buck’s hand was warm in his.
Buck’s thumb moved over his knuckles.
Eddie tightened his grip.
And didn’t let go.