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The first gold star appeared on Buck’s chest at 12:43 on a Tuesday afternoon.
He didn’t notice Eddie put it there.
One second Buck was sitting at the kitchen table in the firehouse, enthusiastically explaining to Ravi why the documentary he’d watched the night before had completely misrepresented the structural integrity of Roman aqueducts, and the next Eddie was leaning over him, pressing something firmly onto the front of his uniform shirt.
Buck stopped talking.
He looked down.
There, directly above his name, was a tiny metallic gold star.
He looked up at Eddie.
Eddie was already walking toward the fridge like nothing had happened.
“What,” Buck said slowly, “is this?”
Eddie glanced over his shoulder. “A sticker.”
“I know it’s a sticker, Eddie.”
“Then why’d you ask?”
Across the table, Ravi made a sudden choking noise into his coffee.
Buck ignored him. “Why did you put a gold star on me?”
“Because you ate lunch.”
There was a beat of silence.
Buck looked at the half-finished sandwich on his plate.
Then at Eddie.
Then back at the sticker.
“I eat lunch all the time.”
Hen, passing through the kitchen, snorted.
Eddie opened the fridge. “You had half a protein bar yesterday.”
“I was busy.”
“And the day before that you ate three gummy bears Chim found in the engine.”
“They were sealed!”
“They were six months out of date,” Chim called from the couch.
Buck twisted around. “Why were they in the engine if they were expired?”
“That is not the point.”
“The point,” Eddie said, returning with two bottles of water and setting one deliberately in front of Buck, “is that you remembered to bring actual food today, and then you actually stopped long enough to eat it.”
“So I get a sticker.”
“You get a gold star.”
Buck stared at him.
It was absurd.
It was childish.
It was deeply patronizing.
And—
Well.
It was kind of shiny.
Buck peeled it off immediately.
“Absolutely not.”
Eddie shrugged. “Okay.”
Buck stuck it onto the inside of his locker twenty minutes later.
Not that anyone needed to know that.
The second star appeared the following morning.
Buck had barely stepped into the locker room when Eddie looked up from tying his boots.
“You sleep?”
Buck paused.
There were several possible answers to this question, and experience had taught him that Eddie somehow possessed an internal lie detector specifically calibrated to Buck’s bullshit.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
Buck narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“Buck.”
“Seven hours.”
Eddie stopped.
Actually stopped.
One hand froze halfway through tightening his bootlace.
“Seven?”
“Yes.”
“As in consecutive?”
Buck rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dad.”
“What time did you go to bed?”
“Eleven thirty.”
Eddie stared at him.
Buck started to feel vaguely defensive.
“What?”
Eddie reached into his duffel bag.
Buck’s eyes widened.
“No.”
Eddie peeled something from a sheet of stickers.
“Eddie.”
“Come here.”
“Do not—”
Eddie stood, caught Buck gently by the shoulder when he tried to sidestep him, and stuck a gold star directly onto Buck’s chest.
“There.”
Buck looked down.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“You went to bed before midnight.”
“I’m thirty-something years old.”
“And yet here we are.”
“You can’t reward me for basic adult behavior.”
“Apparently I can.”
Buck ripped the star off.
Eddie smirked.
Buck waited until Eddie had left the locker room before smoothing that one onto the inside of his locker too, just beneath the first.
By Friday, there were six.
Lunch.
Sleep.
Remembering his physical therapy exercises for the old leg injury that had been bothering him after a rough shift.
Drinking an entire bottle of water instead of four cups of coffee.
Actually taking medication before his shoulder became unbearable rather than waiting until he could barely lift his arm.
And, most offensively, remembering to bring his jacket when the forecast said it was going to rain.
That one had started an argument.
“I checked the weather,” Buck protested.
Eddie pressed the star onto his sleeve.
“You remembered the existence of weather.”
“That is not star-worthy.”
“Last month you came over to my house soaked through because you decided sixty percent chance of rain meant forty percent chance of completely dry.”
“That is mathematically accurate.”
“That’s not how weather works.”
“That is literally exactly how percentages work.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Yes, it is!”
“Keep arguing and I’m taking the star back.”
Buck slapped his hand protectively over it.
The whole kitchen went silent.
Buck froze.
Eddie froze.
Hen slowly lowered her mug.
Chim’s eyebrows climbed toward his hairline.
Ravi looked delighted.
Buck removed his hand.
“I mean,” he said, far too casually, “you already gave it to me. That would be unfair.”
“Right,” Eddie said.
There was something suspicious happening around the corners of his mouth.
Buck pointed at him. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were going to.”
“I really wasn’t.”
“You were thinking something.”
Eddie’s grin finally broke loose. “Can’t punish me for my thoughts, Buck.”
Hen made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh disguised as a cough.
Buck stormed downstairs.
He kept the star.
Obviously.
The first time Christopher found out about the gold stars, Buck immediately decided Eddie was the worst person alive.
It happened during dinner.
Christopher was at one end of the table doing homework between bites of pasta, Theo was sitting beside Buck carefully separating peas from everything else on his plate as if they had personally offended him, and Eddie was standing at the counter packing leftovers into containers.
Buck had just finished reminding Theo that yes, he did in fact have to eat more than garlic bread for dinner, when Eddie glanced over.
“You eat today?”
Buck looked at him.
“You know I did.”
“Do I?”
“You literally watched me.”
“Breakfast?”
“Yes.”
“Lunch?”
“Yes.”
“Water?”
Buck sighed. “Three bottles.”
Eddie nodded once, reached into the drawer beside the fridge, and pulled out the sticker sheet.
Buck’s jaw dropped.
“You brought them home?”
Christopher looked up immediately.
“Brought what home?”
“Nothing,” Buck said.
“Gold stars,” Eddie said at exactly the same time.
Christopher’s eyes moved between them.
“The little stickers?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Eddie walked over and stuck one directly onto Buck’s shirt.
Theo gasped.
Buck closed his eyes.
“Eddie.”
“What?”
“You cannot do this in front of the children.”
Christopher stared.
Theo stared.
Buck knew, with absolute certainty, that his dignity had just died.
“What’s it for?” Christopher asked.
Eddie pulled his chair out and sat down. “Buck gets one when he does something responsible.”
Christopher blinked.
Then he looked at Buck.
Then at the sticker.
Then back at Eddie.
“Why?”
Buck pointed at him. “Thank you.”
“Because Buck sometimes forgets that being responsible for everyone else doesn’t mean he gets to ignore himself.”
Buck’s finger slowly lowered.
Christopher considered that.
“That actually makes sense.”
“Traitor.”
Theo was practically vibrating in his chair.
“I want one.”
“No,” Buck said.
Eddie said, “Eat four peas.”
Theo narrowed his eyes.
Buck turned sharply.
“Do not weaponize the stickers.”
“I’m not weaponizing anything.”
Theo picked up a pea.
He stared at it with deep suspicion.
Then he ate it.
Everyone waited.
Theo ate another.
Then a third.
Then the fourth.
Eddie peeled off a gold star.
Theo lit up.
Buck watched in betrayal as Eddie pressed it onto Theo’s shirt.
“There.”
Theo looked down at himself.
His entire face transformed.
“Dad! Look!”
“I see it.”
“I got a star!”
“I see that too.”
“For peas!”
Christopher started laughing.
Buck looked at Eddie.
Eddie looked insufferably pleased with himself.
“This is how it starts,” Buck warned Theo. “Today it’s peas. Tomorrow he’ll be rewarding you for remembering your shoes.”
Theo looked horrified.
Christopher snorted.
Eddie leaned back in his chair. “You say that like you didn’t once make it halfway to the car without shoes.”
“That happened one time.”
“It happened last month.”
“I was thinking about something.”
“You were thinking about a podcast.”
“It was interesting.”
Theo looked between them.
“Did Dad get a star for shoes?”
Christopher lost it completely.
Buck dropped his face into his hands.
“No.”
Eddie was laughing now too.
Buck lifted his head just enough to glare at him.
“You started this.”
“And I have no regrets.”
—
By the end of the week, the gold star system had spread through the Diaz-Buckley household like a highly contagious disease.
Theo got stars for trying new foods, remembering to put his pajamas in the laundry basket, and brushing his teeth without requiring three separate reminders.
Christopher, who initially declared himself “too old for sticker charts,” lasted approximately thirty-six hours before Eddie gave him one for finishing a particularly awful school assignment early instead of leaving it until Sunday night.
Christopher had stared at the star.
Then at Eddie.
Then muttered, “Okay, but don’t make a big deal about it.”
Buck nearly fell off the couch.
“Oh, now they’re cool?”
Christopher shrugged. “I never said they weren’t cool.”
“You literally did.”
“I said they were kind of childish.”
“That means not cool!”
Christopher peeled the star off his sleeve and stuck it onto the corner of his laptop.
Buck pointed dramatically.
“Hypocrite.”
“You have thirty-one of them in your locker.”
Silence.
Buck slowly turned his head.
Eddie froze halfway through drinking his coffee.
Theo stopped coloring.
Christopher smiled.
Buck stared at him.
“How do you know that?”
Christopher’s smile grew.
Buck turned to Eddie.
“How does he know that?”
Eddie very carefully put his mug down.
“You tell me things.”
“You told him?”
“No.”
Christopher raised a hand. “Ravi did.”
Buck stared at the ceiling.
“Of course Ravi did.”
Theo frowned. “You have thirty-one stars?”
“No.”
“Thirty-two,” Eddie corrected.
Buck whipped around. “Why are you helping?”
“I gave you one this morning.”
“That is not the point.”
Theo’s eyes went wide.
“Can I see them?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Dad.”
“Theo.”
“Daaaaad.”
Christopher joined in.
“Come on, Buck.”
“No!”
Eddie made the mistake of smiling.
Buck pointed at all three of them.
“This is a private collection.”
Every face in the room changed.
Buck froze.
Christopher’s eyebrows shot up.
Eddie slowly turned toward him.
Theo looked delighted.
Buck shut his eyes.
“I hate all of you.”
Eddie leaned over and kissed his temple.
“Sure you do.”
Buck’s heart did something deeply inconvenient.
He ignored it.
Mostly.
—
The kids started helping Eddie hand out stars.
This was somehow worse.
Buck came home after a late shift one night and found Theo waiting in the hallway in dinosaur pajamas.
“You’re supposed to be asleep.”
“I was waiting.”
“For what?”
Theo held up a sticker sheet.
Buck stared.
“No.”
“You came home safe.”
“That is not a reason for a star.”
Theo frowned.
“Uncle Eddie said getting home safe is always a reason.”
Buck’s breath caught.
That was—
Well.
That was unfair.
Theo peeled off a slightly crooked star and pressed it onto Buck’s jacket.
“There.”
Buck looked down at it.
Theo looked very serious.
“You keep it.”
Buck swallowed.
“Yeah, buddy.”
Theo smiled.
Buck crouched and hugged him.
“Thanks.”
“Can I have one tomorrow if I eat broccoli?”
Buck laughed into his hair.
“We’ll negotiate.”
—
Christopher was more selective.
He treated the stickers like a scarce resource.
“You don’t get one just because you did something normal,” he told Buck one Saturday afternoon.
Buck stared at him.
“That is literally the entire basis of the system.”
“No, it’s for things that are hard for you.”
“That seems judgmental.”
“It’s accurate.”
Eddie, standing at the stove, made a suspicious coughing sound.
Buck looked toward him.
“Stay out of this.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You encouraged this.”
Christopher gestured at Buck. “Like yesterday. You were tired and instead of staying up cleaning the kitchen, you went to bed.”
Buck frowned.
“So?”
“So you hate leaving things unfinished.”
“I do not.”
“You reorganized our spice rack at midnight.”
“That needed doing.”
“It did not.”
Eddie finally gave up pretending not to laugh.
Christopher peeled off a star.
Buck crossed his arms.
“What’s that for?”
“For going to bed.”
Buck stared at him.
Christopher leaned over and stuck it on Buck’s shoulder.
“There.”
Buck looked at the sticker.
Something warm unfurled under his ribs.
“Thanks, Chris.”
Christopher shrugged, suddenly looking a little shy.
“Yeah.”
Eddie looked over.
Their eyes met.
For one quiet second, the room seemed to shrink around them.
Buck looked away first.
—
At the firehouse, the situation had become public entertainment.
“So,” Chim said one morning, dropping into the chair opposite Buck, “I hear the program has expanded.”
Buck looked up from his cereal.
“No.”
“Christopher has supervisory authority now?”
“No.”
“Ravi says Theo is an assistant sticker distributor.”
Buck slowly turned toward Ravi.
Ravi was sitting at the counter.
He raised both hands.
“Christopher texted me.”
“Why are you texting my kid about my stickers?”
“He wanted to know if you’d gotten one for eating lunch.”
Buck stared at him.
Ravi smiled.
Hen walked in.
“How many now?”
“No.”
“Thirty-eight?”
“Stop tracking them.”
“That means I’m close.”
“You should all have hobbies.”
“We do,” Chim said. “This is one.”
Bobby walked by carrying his coffee.
Buck looked desperately at him.
“Tell them to stop.”
Bobby took one look at the gold star stuck to Buck’s sleeve.
“What’s that one for?”
Buck looked down.
He had forgotten it was there.
“Christopher gave it to me because I went to bed early.”
Bobby nodded approvingly.
“Good job.”
The entire kitchen erupted.
Buck groaned and dropped his forehead onto the table.
—
The problem was that somewhere along the way, Buck had stopped pretending he didn’t like them.
Not publicly.
He still rolled his eyes.
He still complained.
He still called Eddie a menace every time another little gold sticker appeared on his shirt.
But he didn’t rip them off anymore.
Not immediately.
Sometimes he forgot they were there.
Sometimes he caught himself smiling at one.
Sometimes Theo climbed into his lap and counted them.
Sometimes Christopher looked at Buck over dinner and asked, “Did you get one today?”
And Buck would answer.
And the stupid thing was—
It felt good.
Not because the behavior itself was difficult.
Not always.
It felt good because someone had noticed.
Eddie noticed if Buck ate lunch.
Christopher noticed if Buck rested.
Theo noticed if Buck came home safe.
Tiny things.
Ordinary things.
Things Buck had spent years believing weren’t worth anyone’s attention.
He was used to being noticed when he was bleeding.
When he was reckless.
When he saved someone.
When he failed.
When he was too loud, too much, too impulsive, too needy, too something.
This was different.
This was someone seeing him pour a glass of water and deciding that mattered too.
And maybe that was why, when Eddie forgot one day, it hurt far more than it should have.
—
It happened on a Thursday.
Nothing terrible had happened.
That was the stupid part.
No catastrophic call.
No argument.
No emergency.
They were just busy.
Two back-to-back calls before breakfast, then a warehouse fire that kept them out until well past lunch.
Equipment checks when they returned.
Reports.
Cleanup.
Bobby corralling everyone into finishing chores that had been ignored during the chaos.
By the time things finally settled, it was almost seven.
They were all scattered around the loft, tired and hungry.
Buck sat at the table eating leftover pasta Bobby had reheated.
He’d remembered to eat.
He’d finished two bottles of water after the warehouse fire.
His shoulder had started aching halfway through the afternoon, and instead of ignoring it, he’d stretched it, taken some pain relief, and asked Hen to check it.
He’d even texted Christopher to let him know they were running late and called Theo before bedtime.
Responsible.
Very responsible, actually.
Eddie sat beside him eating.
Buck waited.
Nothing happened.
He finished his food.
Eddie stood and carried his plate toward the sink.
Buck frowned.
Maybe after dinner.
They cleaned the kitchen.
Nothing.
Maybe Eddie didn’t have the stickers.
Except Buck had seen the sheet earlier when Eddie had dug through his bag for a charger.
Buck knew exactly which side pocket they were in.
Not that he was paying attention.
Obviously.
They headed downstairs.
Changed.
Buck opened his locker.
Forty-six tiny gold stars glittered back at him.
Forty-six.
There should have been forty-seven.
Possibly forty-eight considering the water situation.
He stood there staring.
This was ridiculous.
He was not upset.
There was nothing to be upset about.
It was a joke.
A dumb little thing Eddie had started because Buck occasionally forgot that a human body required food, water and sleep.
He didn’t need praise.
He definitely didn’t need praise from Eddie specifically.
He shut the locker harder than necessary.
“You good?”
Buck looked over.
Eddie was sitting on the bench pulling on his sneakers.
“Yeah.”
Eddie studied him.
Buck hated that look.
That quiet, patient Eddie look that said he had already noticed something and would wait exactly as long as necessary for Buck to admit it.
Buck grabbed his bag.
“Night.”
“Buck.”
He stopped.
“What?”
Eddie tilted his head.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay.”
Which was somehow worse than Eddie pushing.
Buck took two steps toward the door.
Stopped.
Turned around.
Eddie was watching him.
Buck suddenly felt about six years old.
This was humiliating.
Absolutely humiliating.
He should leave.
He should walk out the door and never speak of this again.
Instead he heard himself say, very quietly,
“…Do I not get a star?”
Eddie blinked.
Buck immediately wanted the ground to open beneath him.
“Forget it.”
“Buck.”
“No, seriously, I—”
Eddie was already reaching for his bag.
Buck looked away.
“I know it’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid.”
“It is.”
“It’s really not.”
“I’m a grown man asking you for a sticker because I ate dinner.”
Eddie pulled the sheet of stars from his bag.
Buck rubbed a hand over his face.
“This is a new low even for me.”
“Hey.”
Buck looked at him.
Eddie’s expression was soft.
Not amused.
Not teasing.
Just soft.
“I forgot.”
Buck swallowed.
“I know.”
“Today got busy.”
“I know.”
Eddie peeled off a star.
“You ate?”
“Yeah.”
Star.
Eddie pressed it carefully to Buck’s shirt.
“Drank water?”
“Two bottles.”
Another star.
“Took care of your shoulder?”
“Hen checked it.”
A third.
Buck laughed weakly. “Okay, now you’re overcompensating.”
“Probably.”
Eddie studied him.
Then peeled off a fourth.
Buck frowned.
“What’s that for?”
Eddie stuck it beside the others.
“For asking.”
Buck went still.
Eddie smoothed the edge down with his thumb.
“For asking for something you wanted instead of pretending you didn’t care.”
Oh.
That—
Buck stared at him.
“That’s not fair.”
“What isn’t?”
“You can’t just say things like that when I’m emotionally compromised.”
Eddie’s mouth twitched.
“Emotionally compromised by stickers?”
“You made this happen.”
“I did.”
“You conditioned me.”
“I gave you stickers.”
“You created a reward response.”
“Pretty sure that’s still just stickers.”
Buck looked down at the four stars lined across his chest.
Then back at Eddie.
“You know it’s not really about the stars, right?”
Eddie’s smile faded slightly.
Not in a bad way.
Just enough that Buck suddenly realized they had wandered into dangerous territory.
“Yeah,” Eddie said.
Buck’s heart kicked.
“You do?”
“Yeah.”
The locker room suddenly felt very quiet.
Buck fiddled with the strap of his bag.
“What’s it about, then?”
Eddie looked at him for a long moment.
“You like knowing somebody notices.”
Buck’s throat tightened.
Eddie continued, quieter now.
“You take care of everybody. The team. Maddie. Christopher. Theo. You notice when people are tired, or upset, or hungry, or trying to pretend they’re fine.”
Buck looked down.
“And you’re terrible at letting people do the same thing for you.”
“That feels unnecessarily accurate.”
“It is accurate.”
Buck huffed out a laugh.
Eddie stepped a little closer.
“The stickers started as a joke.”
“I knew it.”
“But then you kept them.”
Buck’s ears burned.
“And the kids got involved.”
“They are tiny traitors.”
Eddie smiled.
“They love you.”
Buck went still.
Eddie’s expression softened even more.
“Chris notices when you’re exhausted. Theo notices when you come home. They want to take care of you too.”
Buck swallowed hard.
“And I…”
Eddie hesitated.
Buck looked at him.
“You what?”
Eddie let out a slow breath.
“I like having a way to tell you I noticed.”
There it was.
The thing Buck had apparently been circling around for weeks.
Not the sticker.
Not the joke.
Not even the praise.
I noticed.
Eddie noticed when Buck slept.
When he ate.
When he hurt.
When he rested.
When he made the tiny, unremarkable choices that kept him safe and whole.
Christopher noticed.
Theo noticed.
They all noticed.
Buck had spent a lot of his life believing people noticed him most when he was useful, impressive, reckless, bleeding.
The Diaz family gave him gold stars for drinking water.
Which was—
Honestly, kind of devastating.
Buck breathed out shakily.
“Well.”
Eddie’s eyebrows rose.
“Well?”
“That’s incredibly rude.”
Eddie laughed.
Buck smiled.
Then Eddie reached out and straightened one of the stars that had gone slightly crooked.
His fingers brushed Buck’s chest.
Neither of them moved.
Buck’s smile faded.
Eddie’s eyes dropped briefly to his mouth.
Oh.
Oh.
Buck knew that look.
Or at least, he’d spent an embarrassing amount of time hoping he knew that look.
He swallowed.
“So,” he said softly.
“So.”
“Do I get anything when I reach fifty?”
Eddie looked at him.
Buck tried for casual.
Probably failed spectacularly.
“I mean, most reward systems have milestones.”
“Is that right?”
“Absolutely.”
“What do you want?”
There were approximately four hundred possible answers.
Buck chose the terrifying one.
“You.”
Eddie inhaled.
Buck’s heart immediately attempted to escape through his ribs.
“That was—” Buck started. “Okay, wow, that came out significantly more direct than I intended.”
Eddie stepped forward.
Buck stopped talking.
“Buck.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re at fifty.”
Buck blinked.
“No, I’m not.”
“You were at forty-six.”
Buck looked down.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
“Oh.”
Eddie was smiling.
“So I guess this is the milestone.”
Buck stared at him.
“That seems suspiciously convenient.”
“Maybe.”
Buck dropped his bag.
Then kissed him.
It wasn’t graceful.
Buck caught Eddie somewhere between surprise and laughter, one hand landing against his shoulder while the other found the back of Eddie’s neck.
For half a second Eddie didn’t move.
Then his fingers curled into Buck’s shirt.
And he kissed him back.
Warm.
Certain.
Like maybe this wasn’t nearly as unexpected as Buck had thought.
Buck smiled into it.
Eddie made a quiet noise that might have been Buck’s name.
Then Eddie pulled back just far enough to breathe.
Their foreheads rested together.
Buck grinned.
“So.”
Eddie’s eyes were still closed.
“So.”
“Does that count as responsible behavior?”
Eddie laughed, breathless and bright.
“No.”
“Seriously?”
“Absolutely not.”
Buck leaned back, offended.
“I communicated my feelings.”
“You kissed me mid-conversation.”
“After communicating my feelings.”
“Debatable.”
“I think that deserves at least two stars.”
Eddie opened his eyes.
“You are not getting gold stars for kissing me.”
Buck considered that.
“What do I get?”
Eddie kissed him again.
Buck decided the new reward system was significantly better.
—
They made the mistake of thinking they could keep it from the kids until morning.
They lasted eleven minutes.
The front door had barely closed behind them when Theo came skidding into the hallway in pajamas.
“You’re home!”
Buck crouched automatically and caught him when he launched himself forward.
“Whoa. Hey, buddy.”
Theo wrapped both arms around his neck.
“You got stars.”
Buck froze.
Eddie stopped behind him.
Theo pulled back and counted.
“One, two, three, four.”
Buck looked down at his shirt.
Right.
Evidence.
Christopher appeared at the end of the hallway.
“You got four?”
Buck looked at Eddie.
Eddie looked at Buck.
Christopher’s eyes narrowed.
“Oh my God.”
Buck’s face immediately heated.
“Nothing happened.”
Christopher stared at them.
Theo looked between everyone.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
Christopher folded his arms.
“Buck.”
“Christopher.”
“You’re both acting weird.”
“We always act weird.”
“Not like this.”
Eddie rubbed a hand over his face.
Christopher’s eyes widened.
Then he smiled.
“You finally kissed.”
Buck nearly dropped Theo.
“What?”
Theo gasped.
“You kissed Uncle Eddie?”
Buck closed his eyes.
Eddie started laughing.
Christopher looked unbearably smug.
“I knew it.”
“You knew nothing.”
“Everyone knew.”
“Everyone?”
“The entire firehouse.”
Buck turned slowly toward Eddie.
Eddie shrugged.
“I didn’t tell them.”
“That is not reassuring.”
Theo was bouncing in Buck’s arms.
“Did you kiss?”
Buck looked at Eddie.
Eddie looked at him.
Buck sighed.
“Yes.”
Theo cheered.
Actually cheered.
Christopher fist-pumped.
Buck stared at both of them.
“This feels deeply disrespectful.”
Theo grabbed Buck’s face.
“Do it again.”
“Theo!”
Eddie laughed so hard he had to lean against the wall.
Christopher was practically crying.
Buck looked at the ceiling.
“This family is a nightmare.”
“Our family,” Eddie said.
Buck stopped.
The hallway went quiet.
Eddie seemed to realize what he’d said a second after he said it.
Buck stared at him.
Christopher looked between them.
Theo, completely oblivious to the emotional bomb that had just gone off, patted Buck’s cheek.
“Star?”
Buck’s eyes were still on Eddie.
“What?”
Theo wriggled down.
He ran to the kitchen.
Christopher followed.
Buck and Eddie stood frozen in the hallway.
“Our family?” Buck said softly.
Eddie swallowed.
“If you want.”
Buck’s chest hurt.
In the best possible way.
“Yeah,” he whispered.
“I want.”
Theo came running back holding the sticker sheet.
Buck laughed wetly.
“Of course.”
Theo carefully peeled off a star.
“For kissing.”
Eddie immediately said, “No stars for kissing.”
Theo frowned.
“Why?”
Buck looked at Eddie.
“That is an excellent question.”
Christopher came back carrying a marker.
“I have a better idea.”
Five minutes later, there was a new chart stuck to the fridge.
Christopher had written across the top:
BUCK’S GOLD STAR SYSTEM
Underneath:
50 STARS = KISS EDDIE
Buck stared at it.
Then at Christopher.
Then at Eddie.
Then at Theo, who was adding approximately twelve completely unearned stars to the bottom.
“This has gotten out of control.”
Christopher capped the marker.
“You started it.”
“Eddie started it!”
Eddie leaned against the counter.
“You kept them.”
Buck pointed at him.
“You’re on very thin ice.”
Eddie smiled.
Buck hated how much he loved that smile.
Theo climbed onto a chair and carefully stuck one gold star right beside Buck’s name.
“What’s that one for?” Buck asked.
Theo thought about it.
Then smiled.
“For coming home.”
Buck went quiet.
Christopher looked away, suddenly very interested in the marker.
Eddie’s expression softened.
Buck pressed his lips together.
“Okay,” he said roughly. “That one counts.”
Theo beamed.
—
The next morning, Buck opened his locker at the station.
Fifty gold stars glittered back at him.
He stood there for a moment.
Then he took the four from yesterday and carefully added them to the rows.
Underneath the last one, he stuck a folded piece of paper Christopher had slipped into his pocket before school.
Buck unfolded it.
In Christopher’s handwriting:
50 stars = officially part of the family.
And underneath, in much shakier letters:
Dad gets unlimited stars. Love Theo.
Buck stared at it.
His vision blurred.
“Hey.”
He turned.
Eddie was standing behind him.
Buck held up the note.
“You knew about this?”
Eddie read it.
His face did something soft and helpless.
“No.”
Buck laughed quietly.
“They’re trying to kill me.”
“Probably.”
Buck carefully tucked the note into the corner of his locker.
Eddie stepped closer.
“So.”
“So.”
“Fifty.”
Buck smiled.
“Fifty.”
Eddie reached into his pocket.
Buck narrowed his eyes.
“What are you doing?”
Eddie peeled off another star.
“Eddie.”
“This one’s mine.”
Buck went still.
Eddie pressed it onto Buck’s chest.
Number fifty-one.
“What’s that for?”
Eddie looked at him.
“For staying.”
Buck’s breath caught.
Eddie’s voice went quieter.
“For letting us love you.”
Buck stared at him.
Then he leaned forward and kissed him.
Eddie laughed against his mouth.
When they finally pulled apart, Buck glanced down at the star.
“You realize I’m keeping this one forever.”
“I figured.”
Buck grinned.
“Good.”
Later, star fifty-one went into the locker.
Right beneath Christopher and Theo’s note.
And that one—
That one was his favorite.