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On the day Evan Buckley dies, he has thirteen missed phone calls.
Five of them are from Eddie.
“Come on, Buck,” he mutters, tapping the armrest of his seat impatiently.
11B gives him a look. Not a rude one, but curious. It’s a kid … no, a teen. He’s around Chris’s age. Maybe a few years older. If he’s anything like Chris, he’d probably hate being called a kid.
Eddie gets Buck’s voicemail and curses. Winces. “Sorry,” he tells his seatmate after he hangs up.
“I’ve heard worse.”
Eddie huffs a laugh that cuts off when he looks over and sees the bruise on the kid’s arm.
“Oh, no, not …” The kid pulls his sleeve down, trying to cover up what, god, really looks like a handprint. “That’s from yesterday. You know. The pileup on the 405?”
“Oh. Yeah. That was brutal.” Eddie’d heard about it at the time and spent a good minute thanking god that Buck was planning to head to Tahoe the following day. Today. (If only he’d text to confirm he’d arrived as promised.)
He’s not sure what that has to do with the kid’s bruises. “What was it … three separate accidents? You get tangled in that somehow?”
“Yeah. I mean, it was crazy. I got out to see what was going on after the second one? I think? There was a whole group of us. My aunt. Cousins. A few other people stranded, same as us.
“So, get this,” the kid’s speech speeds up as he moves into his story, his arms gesticulating, “we’re all standing around, trying to figure out how long we’ve got to wait. If we should go off-road to try to get back home, when out of nowhere some guy comes driving up the shoulder, honking his horn like a maniac. Everyone jumped away, even my dumb cousin Brian, but I guess I froze or whatever. It’s not like what they say in the movies. Your life doesn’t flash before your eyes. Or, maybe if you’d had a life …” The kid shakes himself, like a dog shedding water. “I almost died. Now I gotta, I don’t know. Go back to high school like I didn’t just witness the meaninglessness of my existence pass by in a flash. Lame.”
“Shit.” Eddie feels a little guilty giving the kid another once-over (kids exaggerate). But that bruise really is nasty. “And you’re sure you’re fine?”
“Physically, yeah. Some guy pulled me out of the way. Last minute.” His mouth twists. “Fucking hero.”
The way he says it, past tense implied, makes Eddie’s stomach drop. Fuck. “He make it?”
The kid shrugs. “Dunno. He definitely got hit. Hard. My aunt pulled me away from the scene as soon as it happened. Said I shouldn’t look but”—he gets a mullish look on his face and that’s when Eddie sees the resemblance: curly brown hair, light eyes; he could almost be Chris’s brother, if you squint—“I’m almost sixteen. I can drive. Fly all by myself on a plane.” He gestures around, like, see? “I deserve to know what happened to him. Thank him, I guess. Tell him that I hope I don’t disappoint him. You know, for his sacrifice or whatever.”
Overhead, the speakers announce five minutes to take-off. They’d been delayed. Mechanical issues, but not the kind you’re supposed to worry over. (Eddie’s choosing not to think about it.)
“You know, I’m a firefighter.”
The kid—teen perks up. “Yeah?”
Eddie shouldn’t get the kid’s hopes up, but. “I’ve got contacts. I could call around. See if I can find the guy. It might offer some closure. If you want it.”
“Thanks, Mister …”
“It’s Eddie.”
“Thanks, Eddie. That’d be great. The more I think about it, the more I really would like to thank him.”
Eddie really hopes this guy’s alive to hear it.
They land in Dallas and Eddie parts ways with the kid, Kevin, headed back home to Oklahoma. He feels a little weird exchanging numbers with someone under eighteen but if anything Kevin promised to share whatever advice he has on college applications and Eddie will take all the help he can get for Chris’s sake. (Apparently Kevin’s dad works for the University of Oklahoma.)
As Eddie checks the monitors for his next flight, he gives Buck a call.
He gets Buck’s voicemail at the same time he finds out his flight to El Paso has been delayed. What a fucking day. With the distraction, Eddie doesn’t manage to hang up before the phone beeps.
Leave a message.
“Hey, Buck.” Eddie hits the hard K, like he always does when Buck’s in his doghouse. “I know you hate voicemails because they make you feel like you’re in trouble, but you are in trouble. You were supposed to call when you hit Tahoe. Or wherever you decided to spend the night, if you got stuck in traffic longer than a few hours. I know you left before dawn, you boomer. So come on, man. It’s bad enough I’ve got to settle Abuela’s estate with my parents but you can’t call me back? Text? Fucking carrier pigeon? You love those damn birds. Send me one, okay? Put me out of my mystery.” Eddie hangs up.
Now how in the goddamn hell does he switch terminals?
At least the flight into El Paso is relatively painless. Eddie wheels his luggage to the curb and flags down his Uber.
He feels a little guilty texting while the guy drives but Aman doesn’t seem any more interested in talking to Eddie than Eddie does him, so he lets himself send messages to Linda and Athena. People he considers his go-to’s for information.
You hear anything about a random guy saving some kid yesterday at that pile-up?
Linda gets back to him first. as far as I know, the only people saving kids were the first responders lol
What do you know?
Not much. Only that it was on the 405. A kid I was seated next to on the plane to El Paso thinks it was the third accident, but he couldn’t be sure. He didn’t see much, but he distinctly remembers someone pulling him out of the way. Saved his life. He wants to find the guy to thank him & I said I’d help
he get a mile marker?
Eddie huffs a laugh. It was a teenager.
So no 🤣
Well, I wasn’t working, but from what I hear it was a mess. Lots of cars left abandoned. Quite a few Jane’s and John’s Doe. Fatalities. At least two people still unconscious.
Damn.
Yeah. Heard the 118 and a few other houses worked overtime to relieve some of the stations who needed to be pulled offline after.
It wasn’t a pretty sight
Eddie rubs his temples. He has the sickening sensation that this is going to be like finding a needle in a haystack.
The car (not a hybrid, but a bottom-of-the-line Kia Soul) pulls up to Eddie’s parent’s place. “Here.”
Eddie thanks the guy and tries not to judge him when he doesn’t get out of the car to help Eddie with his bags.
He still gives Aman five stars and a hefty tip.
Between the unsubtle digs about Eddie’s still-on-the-market house, impulse return to LA, and failure to save his Abuela from dying of natural causes, Eddie turns his phone on Do Not Disturb and doesn’t think about his self-assigned mission until he’s back in his hotel room for the night, shoes off, comfy pants on.
He bounces onto the bed and rolls onto his back with a well-earned groan, grateful he sprung for a room rather than suffer through an air mattress on the floor of his old place.
He checks his phone. There’s a few messages from Athena, a few from Linda.
And one from Maddie.
Eddie checks that one first since it’s not like her to text.
Hey, Eddie! Sorry to bother you while you’re in El Paso. Just wanted to ask. Have you heard from Buck?
Eddie frowns. Okay, that’s not good. Things have been strained between him and Buck ever since Buck found out about the job in El Paso without Eddie telling him. Then there were those bizarre two weeks when they lived together, ships in the night, until Buck insisted Maddie needed his help with baby Nash and left.
So Buck not texting Eddie back feels par for their most recent course. A little elbow in the ribs (or twisted ankle) to pay Eddie back for perceived slights.
But Buck going radio silent with Maddie? Not a fucking chance.
No, I haven’t. And I’ve called. A lot.
Maybe there’s bad reception in Tahoe?
Maddie’s blue dots bubble for quite some time. Eddie has to keep tapping his screen to keep it from going black. (He lives on low power mode ever since Buck suggested it when Eddie’s phone kept dying.)
Finally, she replies: I thought he was going to Big Bear.
Which … that isn’t like him either. Big Bear? Really? After what happened to Maddie?
On a whim, Eddie texts Hen. Hey. Where did Buck say he was going?
Tijuana lol, she writes back.
That mother fucker.
Eddie screenshots her text and goes to send it to Maddie, before deciding. Fuck it.
He goes to the group chat they made when planning Buck’s last birthday party. Swallows. Goes up to the members and deletes Bobby first.
Sound off. Where did Buck tell you he was taking his PTO?
The answers role in like indictments. All the ones Eddie’s figured out plus Joshua Tree, San Diego. Ravi sends, “Billings,” and Eddie has to laugh.
You thought he was driving to Billings on five days of PTO? Okay probie
I’m not a probie!
And he said he was flying
Like Buck doesn’t hate flying! Eddie buries his face in his hands. Resists the urge to scream. The groupchat blows up with replies and Eddie decides, fuck that. Mutes it. Heads back to the original mystery by pulling up Athena’s text.
There are a few reports detailing a man grabbing 16-year-old Kevin Carmichael out of the way of a moving car.
It was the fourth recorded accident, although not by long. Apparently two cars had a minor fender bender only shortly before the SUV drove up the shoulder.
The man in question had no ID on him. Assigned John Doe, one of two from yesterday. Failure to locate his vehicle. LAFD is having a time figuring out which vehicles belong to people involved in accidents and which were abandoned due to gas or mechanical failures.
Both John Does were sent to Providence Holy Cross but one was transferred to Ronald Reagan UCLA due to the severity of his injuries. The remaining Providence John Doe was later identified as Samuel Martinez, involved in the second accident. My guess is your guy is at Ronald Reagan UCLA.
He’s in a coma.
Eddie reads through Athena’s notes three times, then checks Linda’s messages, although she’s only sent an apology for not having any more info.
He considers what he’s learned. Is this enough? Karma complete? This is probably the guy; evidence seems to point that way. All Eddie has to do is send this along to Kevin and consider this loop … well, not completed but close.
Still, Eddie feels weird. This guy, what, pulled Kevin out of the way, got hit himself, and no one even knows his name? That doesn’t seem fair. Eddie thinks about how he’d feel if it had been Chris needing saving.
He doesn’t have to think very hard. He remembers all too well how he’d felt seeing Buck at the makeshift overflow hospital. Those brief moments when Buck tried to tell him the worst had happened, only to have Chris shoved in his arms mid-breakdown.
Later, after Eddie had washed the salt and sweat and god knows what else out of Chris’s hair and off his skin, how Chris had said it, over and over. He saved me. Buck saved me.
This John Doe saved Kevin. Almost died. Still might.
He deserves a name.
Eddie should call Buck. Text. Something. But he wakes up pissed. Overnight the groupchat has devolved into something resembling a search party but Eddie can’t be bothered. It’s a mess of Buck’s own making and nowhere near Eddie’s responsibility, not when Buck purposefully made it difficult to be found.
Besides, Eddie’s got bigger problems than Buck’s Eat, Pray, Love walkabout, like fighting Abuela’s tortilla press out of his parent’s grubby hands.
After a grueling day at Abuela’s storage unit, Eddie does manage to walk away with the tortilla press, recipe book, and various other cooking utensils (you’re welcome, Buck) along with Abuelo’s pocket watch (for Chris) and more than a few cutting remarks about his character (a special treat for Eddie).
Sophia’s on her way into town and Adriana’s finally off work so Eddie should stick around for one more family dinner. But the idea of spending another night in El Paso makes him physically ill. He finds himself at a UPS shipping store, wrapping up the items he swore to himself he’d save for Buck, and passive aggressively wondering if he should just ship them off direct to Tahoe. Tijuana. Wherever.
Eddie even pulls his phone out. You know, you never sent me your new address, he types and sends to Buck without thinking too deeply about why Buck refusing to invite Eddie to his new house makes him so mad.
“Address?” the bored cashier asks.
Eddie gives her the one on South Bedford, as much Buck’s home as any other, if only he’d believed Eddie when he said it.
Eddie’s getting really good at dodging texts and calls (learned from the best, Buck) by the time he’s back in another Uber, one unrefundable night at his hotel on his credit card and a $50 future credit for his ticket change sitting in his American Airlines account.
At least this flight’s direct.
Eddie picks the window seat and lets his gaze drift out on the American Southwest beneath him.
It’s almost impossible to believe how many times he’s driven one of those roads that cross it, 800 miles, twelve hours on a good day. To condense the trip down into a two and a half hour flight seems almost unfair.
But that’s life, right? Luck. Timing. Eddie got his first girlfriend pregnant, and then she died. He had Chris, and then he lost him, too.
Although, he did get him back. Aims to keep.
Still. How many times has Eddie watched his loved ones get hurt and nearly die? And then Bobby does die and Eddie finds out through a phone call.
Searching for Bobby, Eddie tries to find god, and then He takes Eddie’s abuela.
What does it mean? What does any of it mean?
How do you hold onto the things you want when all you’ve ever known is the feeling of them slipping from your hands?
Eddie pays for WiFi just to send Buck two more texts.
Buck. Come on, man.
I miss you.
As soon as Eddie lands, he orders an Uber to Ronald Reagan UCLA.
He calls Athena as he walks over to the designated rideshare pick-up spot.
“Eddie Diaz. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Hey, I’m calling in a favor.”
“Mmm. I wasn’t aware I owed you one.”
“You don’t. I just …” Eddie sighs, not sure how he means to finish the sentence.
“Okay, okay,” Athena soothes, likely hearing the utter exhaustion in his voice. “What is it?”
“Can you get me in to see the John Doe at Ronald Reagan? I need to pass along a message.”
At least the John Doe can’t dodge him, like Buck can.
Athena meets Eddie at the emergency waiting room. He’d told her the whole story while waiting for his ride. (He had two drivers cancel before one finally arrived, which Eddie would never do.)
He tried to explain to her why he’s doing this. What he needs.
“So what’s your big plan? You’re going to, what, get a picture of this guy and post it online? See if the internet can identify him?”
“I don’t know, Athena. I just know I need to find him. Thank him for saving that kid’s life. I have this feeling, once I see him, it’ll all make sense.”
She raises an eyebrow when she sees him, still toting his carry on luggage, but instead of questioning him any further simply helps him get the bag into the trunk of her patrol car. Eddie’s grateful for the brief extension of trust.
Her police badge gets them an escort to the floor, their story exchanged for a chatty nurse who seems excited by the whole adventure.
“I’m just so glad someone’s taken an interest. Poor guy. It’s so sad when patients don’t have names. Especially handsome ones, like our John. And heroic, too! From your story,” she gushes.
Athena and Eddie exchange a look. At least someone’s having a good time. Must be nice.
The nurse stops before they walk in the room. “A few ground rules.” Her whole demeanor changes and Eddie almost regrets his snap judgement which called her frivolous. “He’s in no condition for stress. His heart’s already strained. You can have five minutes. Get your photo. Say your thanks. Get out. Kapiche?”
Everyone nods. Simple enough.
The nurse opens the door and it’s Eddie who walks through first, his eyes taking a second to scan the room before landing on the man in the bed.
He stops walking immediately, Athena bumping into him.
“What the—” She cuts off as soon as her eyes land on the … on the patient.
On Buck.
Because that’s who it is. The man for whom Eddie’s been searching for days. In more than one way.
He’s pale, unconscious, surrounded by wires and tubes and machinery, a shock of road rash nearly obscuring his birthmark, but he’s unmistakably Buck. Eddie would know him anywhere, any form.
Kevin’s words float through Eddie’s head.
I guess I froze or whatever.
Eddie gets it now. It’s so easy to see. Buck stepping out of his truck to see what’s going on, to see if he’s needed. Making friends on the side of the road. A car drives up the shoulder. Honking. Kevin’s not moving. Why isn’t he moving? Buck probably acted before he thought. Doesn’t he always? Grabbed Kevin. Pushed him out of the way.
He probably didn’t even have time to be scared.
Like Kevin, Buck probably didn’t see his life flash before his eyes. No, Buck’s the guy who gets into comas and dreams about what he doesn’t have. What could have been.
Eddie’s the one who’s better at looking back and seeing what he missed. What he could miss. What he’s missing, right now. He sees it, him, laid out in a hospital bed wearing a terrible gown and no one’s even shaved off Buck’s facial hair. That’s just rude. Buck hates having stubble. Cracked lips. Don’t they know? He’s got a whole twelve-step skincare routine. Gets so mad that Eddie uses dollar store washcloths and Dial soap.
“It’s not fair,” he always pouts. “You’ve got that gorgeous skin and you don’t even try.”
You don’t even try.
Doesn’t Eddie know.
Athena’s hand lands on Eddie’s arm (god, if Eddie had laid his hand over that bruise on Kevin’s arm he would have seen the shape of Buck’s hand in comparison to his own, familiar even in the blue-purple marks on a stranger) and Eddie sucks in a breath that burns to take.
“Buck,” he rasps.
“Excuse me?” the nurse asks. She frowns. Her nose wrinkles.
She thinks I’m cursing, Eddie realizes.
She doesn’t know it’s his name. She doesn’t know.
“Evan Buckley,” Eddie says. “That’s. That’s his name.”
“Eddie, you need to sit down.”
Eddie shoves Athena off and she looks at him with pity even as the nurse hardens her face.
“Sir.”
But Athena’s waving her off (beep) she’s taking her outside (beep) she’s coming back in (beep) she’s saying Eddie’s name (beep) “Eddie” (beep) “please” (beep) “if you don’t sit down” (beep) “scaring” (beep) “plea—”
(beeeeeeeeeep)
When Eddie comes to, his knees are on the floor. His mouth tastes like rancid ass.
Someone’s squeezing his hand. “Buck?”
“No. Eddie, it’s Athena. Can you stand up now?” She gives him a look like she’s been asking for some time.
It makes Eddie want to scream. He thinks it’s high time for screaming. “Buck.”
“He’s right over there.” She jerks her head toward the hospital bed. “He hasn’t moved, but you ought to—”
Eddie’s moving before she finishes her sentence, dragging his knees over the linoleum to reach Buck. It doesn’t take him long; he was almost there.
Eddie fumbles for Buck’s hand. This. Oh. This feels right. As soon as Buck’s hand has found its home, clasped within both of Eddie’s, Athena’s words start filtering through his ears.
“… already reached out to dispatch to find his truck. Maddie’s on her way. I texted the groupchat you started. Thanks for taking Bobby out, by the way.”
Eddie stares over at her blankly. She’s standing on the other side of Buck’s bed. He doesn’t remember her walking.
“I have his phone. Makes me jolt every time he gets a message. And yet I can’t bring myself to turn it off.”
Eddie has no idea why she’s telling him this. “Buck?”
Athena’s mouth opens. Closes. She swallows before saying, “Stable for now. Having his full medical history helps. They didn’t know why he wasn’t coming out of his coma before, but—”
“This isn’t the first time he’s resisted waking.”
Eddie flashes back to a sunny morning. Ripping the duvet off an angry Buck. Throwing Chris at him like a life preserver, all three of them not yet knowing the real life saver would be Buck.
“Will he wake up?” Eddie’s not optimistic enough to ask when.
“They hope so.”
That and a dollar won’t buy him a Coke.
Eddie swallows. Tears prick at his eyes. “How can you be so calm?”
Athena smiles and, for the first time in Eddie knowing her, briefly looks her age. “I have to be calm so you can fall apart.”
“Who says I’m going to fall apart?” Eddie asks, like he’s not already falling.
On the day Evan Buckley dies, he has thirteen missed calls.
By the time Maddie picks up his truck, and with it his phone, at the impound lot, and charges it, he has fifty-seven missed calls, two hundred forty-one texts—
“And three thousand five hundred and two emails, although I’m pretty sure at least ninety percent of those were in your inbox before you went all every day hero.”
Eddie dips his razor into the bowl of water, now lukewarm with how long it’s taken to shave Buck. He surveys the damage. No nicks, but a few patchy spots. It’ll have to do if Eddie doesn’t want to accidentally draw blood.
He sets the water and razor aside, pulling out the bag of toiletries Maddie brought for him. He starts with the cleanser, a mild exfoliant. “I haven’t texted Kevin yet. Figure … figure you deserve to be awake when he thanks you. He owes you that much.”
It’s nice, massaging Buck’s face like this. Feeling the rough and pitted texture beneath his fingertips. He’s less greasy than Eddie would have thought; Buck’s normally got oily skin. That Western Europe complexion. So Eddie tries not to be too harsh with the swipes of his fingers, gently working the cleanser across Buck’s face, avoiding his eyes and neck, the still-healing wound over Buck’s birthmark, where the skin’s too sensitive for an exfoliating agent.
“Was it because Kevin looks so much like Chris? Is that why you did it?” But Eddie shakes his head. Squeezes Buck’s hand in apology. Of course that’s not why he did it.
He did it because he’s Buck.
“I’ll be right back.”
He takes the washcloth Maddie included (decidedly not dollar store brand) and takes it to the bathroom, letting the sink water run warm before wetting the fabric. He wrings it so it doesn’t drip all over the floor.
He walks back to finish the job. One hand on the side of Buck’s face to steady it, Eddie slowly wipes away the cleanser, each swipe as gentle as a kiss. (He doesn’t forget Buck’s hand, from when Eddie squeezed it earlier. There’s some blood splattered across his palms. They deserve gentle swipes, too.)
When he’s done, he rinses out the towel while avoiding his reflection.
“Okay”—Eddie sits back in his bedside chair—“here’s where we have trouble. Because I can’t figure out which of these serums and lotions you use. Probably all of them, but, sorry, Buck. I’m way under qualified.” He chooses a vitamin C serum, because, vitamins. Can’t hurt. He glares at the stopper. “God. How many drops do you need? This is ridiculous.” He ends up putting one drop on Buck’s forehead, chin, each cheek, like a skincare sign of the cross. He smears the serum around, feeling like an idiot. “I guess I could have FaceTimed May, but a man needs his dignity.”
Buck, unconscious, in a coma, letting Eddie rub his face, says nothing.
“Smells nice,” Eddie adds, like that makes things better.
He digs back around in the bag. Lotion, lotion, lo—ah. “Here we go.” He swipes a fingertip and does the same skincare cross as before, laughing at his little inside joke. Boops Buck’s nose to include him. A tiny dollop he quickly works into Buck’s skin. Any excess left behind he wipes down Buck’s neck, swallowing in sympathy as his fingers brush over Buck’s Adam’s apple.
He lets his hands linger on this thin, delicate skin. The trust he’s taking for granted, that Buck would let him do this. He’s almost certain he would.
“There,” Eddie says, his voice rough with emotion. “That’s probably as good as I can do.”
He pulls out his phone and texts Maddie. All done.
Without question, she set this time aside for him, agreed to let him repeat it this evening though she or May or Hen would probably do a better job. The rest of the 118 family plan to come in waves, on her schedule, bringing with them stories and games and laughter but she’s saving this ritual for Eddie.
Twice a day.
All he had to do was ask.
It occurs to Eddie on day five of sitting vigil just how much they’re all treating him like a spouse. Tiptoeing around news. Deferring to him for decisions.
The strange thing is … he doesn’t think anyone else has figured it out. This is just what they do. Him and Buck. The most coupled uncouple. Who else better to take care of Buck than the man who’s been his partner for nearly seven years?
He’s started telling his woes to the one person who would find them funny.
“You know Shannon asked me for a divorce right before she died?” Eddie tells Buck’s unconscious body. The vitamin C serum sticks in his nose, sweet and inviting. It’s for redness, apparently. Eddie looked it up.
“Get that. All these years I’ve played her widower, and she didn’t even want to be married to me.” Eddie laughs. “And now, here we are. Or, here I am. Widowed a second time, and I never even got to ask. Hilarious, right? How I can only ever keep the things I’m grieving.”
He slouches down in his chair so he can lean his head against the backrest. He closes his eyes. Resists the urge to smell his hands, where the scent of Buck’s lotion lingers.
“What do you think? Would you have said yes?” Eddie has the sick, selfish urge to imagine it. “It was terrible when I proposed to Shannon. She didn’t want me to ask and I didn’t want her to say yes. Nothing romantic about it.
“You’re the romance guy. Big gestures and all that. I bet you’d plan a whole thing for me. Candles. Rose petals. A fucking mariachi band.” Eddie fights both a smile and tears at the same time. “I’d see it coming a mile away. You’re so bad at keeping secrets. Like your brother-in-law.”
He thinks some more. “So I’d beat you to it. Get Chris involved, that way you couldn’t be mad at me when I thwarted your big plans. It would have been easier when he was younger. Sweeter, too. God. He would have made all the decorations himself. We could have had a zoo-themed wedding.” Eddie rubs his eyes until stars burst on the edges of his vision. All this time. “I put you in my will before I’d ever kissed you. I’m an idiot.” He buries his hands in his face.
Again, resists the urge to scream. No matter how warranted, he’s fairly certain the hospital frowns on that sort of thing. (Although, what better place?)
He drops his arms by his side and opens his eyes. Stares at the ceiling. “That’s how I’d do it, by the way. I’d send in Chris with adoption papers. By this point, it’s basically my brand to use him as a vehicle for my own wants, conscious or unconscious.” Ha ha. “Then, when you look over at me, eyes bright because you’re always crying at Hallmark movies like a big ol’ sap so of course you’re crying at how Chris already sees you like a parent, I’ll tell you that I think I was born loving you. Really force the water works.” Eddie wipes at his eyes; he’s getting second hand moisturizer. “And I’ll apologize for making you wait so long. Do you think you’ll ever forgive me?”
“Maybe,” a voice, a very familiar voice, a voice Eddie was certain he’d never hear again, rasps. “But it’s gonna have to be one really big rock,” Buck says, before drifting back into unconsciousness.
From there, it’s a rush. Doctors. Specialists.
Maddie takes the lead.
She’d been content to step back when there were no decisions to be made, but now that Buck’s conscious, now that there’s hope, Eddie gets shoved to the side.
They may have treated Eddie like a spouse when it looked like he’d become a widower, but with Buck back in the living, Eddie doesn’t have the same … je ne sais pas.
Deja vu. Et cetera.
So he retreats into Chris, his own life, until those days in the hospital start to feel like a dream. Like a wish made with his eyes closed right before blowing out the candles.
Something foolish. Something he knows better than to want, like a child who still believes in miracles.
Eddie finds himself finally texting Kevin.
Hey. I found your hero.
Time to close the loop.
Eddie can at least do that.
When Buck’s life begins for the third time, there are thirty-one unread texts on his phone.
All from Eddie.
He waits until he’s about to be released from the hospital to read through them. They paint a picture that Buck doesn’t fully understand. Frustration. Impatience.
And something Buck doesn’t think he’s misreading, even though it feels impossible.
Yearning.
Maddie told him it was Eddie who found Buck when he was nothing but a John Doe in the system. Shaved him every morning. Washed his face day and night. Even tried to follow Buck’s skincare routine.
“Poor guy had no idea what he was doing,” Maddie said, fondly, “but it didn’t stop him from trying.”
Except he’s not there when Buck wakes up. Long gone. Doesn’t drop by over the next several weeks of follow up surgeries, physical therapy, the slow, awful realization that Buck may never be a firefighter again. At least, not on the level he used to be.
Maddie cried when the doctor told him but strangely Buck’s eyes were dry. He kept flexing one of his hands open and closed, trying to shake a phantom sensation.
He knows he should be mad Eddie hasn’t come by. Maddie’s mad. Chim’s mad. Hell, Hen’s mad, and she never gets angry.
But Buck can’t find the feeling.
Athena’s the only one who seems to get it. “He’s not waiting for you here,” she tells Buck. “He’s waiting for you out there.”
“Out where?” Buck asks. “For what?”
Athena just smiles enigmatically.
He keeps searching for a memory that he can’t remember. Something from those hazy days right after he woke up. Something he can almost remember.
Something about a rock.
It keeps slipping out of Buck’s hand.
There’s only one message of Eddie’s that Buck chooses to reply to. He waits until he’s released from the hospital to press send.
He texts Eddie his new address.
A day later, Eddie shows up on Buck’s doorstep, holding a box. “Can I set this in your kitchen?” he asks, forgoing a normal greeting, like this is just another Tuesday.
Buck huffs, more endeared by the rudeness than he wants to admit, and steps aside. “Knock yourself out.”
Eddie doesn’t look around as he walks into Buck’s house but Buck can tell he’s casing it. Learning the layout. It’s that soldier in him; it never really leaves. Eddie’s always got to see the problems before he feels comfortable.
He drops the box on Buck’s kitchen table. “Mind if I …” He gestures to the box.
“Sure. If you don’t mind me sitting. I’m not much for standing these—thanks,” Buck adds, when Eddie kicks out a chair for him.
He’s chosen the one with Buck’s special cushions. Of course he has.
The first thing Eddie brings out of the box is Abuela’s tortilla press.
Buck gasps when he sees it.
“Literally pried this out of my mother’s hands,” Eddie says, setting it on Buck’s counter. Then, he doubles down with his next item.
“Is that—”
“Abuela’s recipe book. Passed down from her Abuela. I actually had to hide this under my shirt. I was afraid I’d set off some alarm taking it out of El Paso, like one of those anti-theft devices.”
Slowly, Eddie goes through the box, pulling item after item, explaining some, although Buck knows most of them.
Finally, the box is empty.
Eddie starts breaking it down.
“You’re not taking them back home with you?”
“No, Buck. They’re yours.”
Buck stares at Eddie blankly.
Eddie sighs and leans back against the kitchen island. He scrubs a hand down his face. It looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks. Bags under his eyes. Cracked lips. Unshaven. “This is why I was in El Paso.”
Buck found out from Hen that Eddie was taking the trip, but he never learned the reason. Secretly, he’d worried Eddie would try to move back, even though logically it didn’t make sense. Chris was in LA; why would Eddie leave?
Rational or not, that’s why Buck drove to Tahoe. To be the one who left first for once. At least he tried. (Didn’t even make it past Santa Clarita.)
“I knew …” Eddie huffs a laugh. “I knew if I wasn’t there, my mom would make an excuse not to send them to me, even though Abuela specifically mentioned they were mine. I knew she’d try to pass it off like she should hold onto them, just until things were more settled. Even though I went to El Paso, she still tried.”
Buck’s nodding along. That sounds like Helena. But what he doesn’t understand: “Do you even like to make tortillas? Or … any of this?”
Eddie laughs, heartily. “No.” He looks over at Buck with those big, brown eyes of his, the warmth so deep in them it makes his face glow. “I wanted them for you.”
“Me?”
“Yup! I wanted my Abuela’s tortilla press and her family recipe book and I was willing to fight my mother to get them, all because I knew it would make you happy.” Eddie drums his fingers on the island. It makes a sound not unlike rain. “You know, this makes it twice I’ve been to El Paso to collect my heart.”
Buck’s own heart clenches. “Eddie …”
“What do you think?” Eddie jerks his head toward the collection of … dear god, are these courting gifts? Are these …
“Eddie, is this your way of giving me a big rock? Like a penguin?”
“What? No! This is … oh, shit.” Eddie blinks. “I guess this is my way of giving you a big rock. Fuck. In my defense, I thought bringing Chris with adoption papers was more romantic, but he said he didn’t want to be here when we started kissing. Which. Fair.”
“Are we going to start kissing?” Buck’s starting to feel a little breathless. He’s always feeling a little breathless these days, but this is something else.
“Um.” Eddie blushes. “I mean. If you wanted.”
“Wow.” Buck shakes his head. Fishes his mouth open and closed. “I’m sorry but I’ve been in a couple of comas. Surgeries. Not a small amount of existential crises. C-can you … can you tell me what we’re doing here?”
“Well.” Eddie rubs his jaw. “Uh. It’s a long story. But … see, the thing is I flew to El Paso seated next to the kid you saved. Kevin.”
“Wait. What?”
Eddie barrels onward despite the major bomb he’s dropped in Buck’s lap. “He told me how you’d saved him, and I promised him I’d find you. Meanwhile, I was in El Paso gathering up my family heirlooms to present to you as … god, Buck. I don’t even know. A best friend gift, as dumb as that sounds. I think part of me thought if I could give you the right gift, I could fix what was broken in us, but I didn’t know what was broken until I traced the path to Kevin’s hero and found you instead.
“And there I was, slathering you up with serums and lotions and, Buck, we gotta talk about your skincare routine because I think it’s a little excessive. But, anyway, I realized everyone was treating me like your widower and I thought that was some bullshit.”
Buck swallows. “I never asked for that.”
Eddie’s jaw drops for a second. He snaps it shut with a chuckle. “Buck, I’m not mad they made me your widower. I’m mad I had to mourn you as a widower before I ever got to have you as my husband.”
“Oh,” Buck says. He scrambles backward for anywhere in the conversation where he can gain a foothold. “My skincare routine is not excessive.”
“Oh, yes. It is.”
“You just say that because you’ve got good genetics. I mean. Look at you. When was the last time you got a full night’s sleep and you’re still basically glowing. It’s rude.”
The corner of Eddie’s mouth fights a smile. “Is it.” He dips his chin and looks up at Buck through his lashes.
Oh. Oh no. Buck’s heart’s still way too injured for Eddie to look at him like that.
Buck clenches his shirt over his rapid-beating heart. “E-Eddie.”
“Yes, Buck?”
“What are you saying? You have to tell me, now. You can’t leave me in suspense. My heart literally can’t take it.”
This time, Eddie gives in, his smile spreading across his face like sunshine over the water. A bright, new day. Warm and pink. “I’m saying, Buck, that I think I was born loving you, and I don’t want either of us to die before I get a chance to do it right. So. Will you let me?”
Buck exhales a slow breath that seems to defy physics with the way he inflates his soul at its release. “Eddie,” he says. “Of course. All you ever had to do was ask.”
When their lips meet, a stumbled few steps of Eddie’s to bring him closer, Buck lifting himself out of his chair even though his whole body trembles to hold him up, it isn’t anything like the gentle swipe of an expensive washcloth over skin, and yet Eddie still cups the side of Buck’s face to hold him in place, Buck’s eyes are still closed like the world’s too bright for him to see it. It still feels as tender as the loving care you give someone who needs your help but can’t bring themself to ask. It feels like something you both give and keep. A warmth at the center of your chest, spreading along veins and nerves and limbs until your fingertips buzz and buzz and buzz and—
There are zero missed calls on Buck’s phone when he and Eddie start their lives together. No unread texts. No unheard voicemails.
… Still about four thousand twenty-two unread e-mails, though.
Ah, what’s a fresh start, anyway? Eddie doesn’t need it. He’s long accepted Buck’s incredibly irrational fear that unsubscribing from any one of the many newsletters he gets will result in him missing some very important update.
“What if the zoo gets a new baby penguin? Or the art museum gets a piece of artwork you love for one of their exhibitions and we miss out?”
Buck is still the guy looking forward, afraid of the things he might miss. Good. One of them ought to be. Eddie, on the other hand, has made his peace with being the guy who sees what’s come before. History: it’s important.
After all, the key to holding onto the things you love is to know their true value. To believe, without a doubt, that they’re worth fighting for. That means having one step in the past, one in the future, and two hands holding on, holding each other, making the most of their present.