Chapter Text
Somehow, miraculously, Eddie Diaz has garnered a reputation for being a prudent, responsible individual.
Where such a risible perception of him came from, Eddie doesn’t quite know. It probably has something to do with the fact that he’s often measured in comparison to Buck, who is notoriously reckless and rarely thinks his decisions through.
The thing is: neither does Eddie.
If he did, he might have stopped to think about exactly what he’d be losing in his rather rash and impulsive move back to Texas.
And, to be clear, it’s not that he hadn’t thought it through—it’s just, he had been so focused on what he had to gain that he almost deliberately hadn’t let himself think about exactly how much he stood to lose.
But now, as he sits on his couch beside his best friend, he starts to realise just how monumentally he’s fucked up.
Buck, who’s somehow managed to take the news of Eddie moving in stride, despite how much Eddie knows it’s killing him, has managed to insert himself into the home-buying process so thoroughly that anyone witnessing their current video call would swear it’s Buck who’s the one moving. Eddie’s not even sure if he’s in the frame anymore, given how much space Buck is taking up on the iPad screen.
He’s dictating the conversation with the real estate agent, making sure Eddie has everything he needs. Scratch that—he’s making sure Eddie and Chris have everything they need.
Eddie’s kind of stuck on the fact that the only two things he really needs are currently 800 miles apart and he’s about to trade one for the other.
“Alright, this one is a little smaller,” the real estate agent, Cassidy, is saying through the screen. “But it’s well within your budget. It’s just the one bedroom—”
“Uh, sorry, no,” Buck interrupts. “Chris is definitely going to need his own room.”
Eddie knows he’s doomed when Cassidy smiles politely and asks, “Sorry, who’s Chris?”
“Eddie’s son.”
“Oh, you have children?”
Eddie ignores the confused frown Buck gives him at her surprised reaction. Buck probably assumes that Eddie’s most basic summary of what he was looking for would have included the details of him having a son with special needs that he needs to accommodate for, but truthfully, Eddie never really got that far. He just gave Cassidy his parents’ zip code and asked her to find something affordable within the surrounding areas.
Buck, luckily—or maybe not so luckily, because witnessing this makes Eddie feel kind of nauseous—is there to help them narrow it down.
“Just the one,” Buck tells her. “But he’s a teenager, so he’s definitely going to need his own room,” he declares with a little laugh, while Eddie just sits there dumbly. “He also has cerebral palsy, so we’re looking for something that’s accessible. You know, probably one story, ideally not too many stairs.”
Through back and forth, and without any useful input from Eddie, Buck and Cassidy rule out any two story homes. She seeks clarification on whether they’re searching for a two bedroom home, and Buck confirms it before tentatively throwing out the idea that a guest bedroom wouldn’t hurt.
“You know. In case,” he says to Eddie.
Eddie doesn’t know, actually, and he doesn't want to know, because everything about that sounds wrong. Buck should never be relegated to the role of guest in Eddie’s house.
“Alright, how about this one?” Cassidy eventually suggests, as the notification with a link to the listing pops down on the screen for Buck to press. “Two bedrooms and a study that could be converted into another bedroom. Just the one level. It’s in a really gorgeous neighbourhood, not too far from the location preference you gave me. Lovely community, good schools. There’s even a public pool about five minutes away.”
“Eddie actually already knows the area,” Buck tells her conversationally. “He grew up in El Paso.”
“Oh!” Eddie can tell she’s trying not to seem too put out by all this information she already expects to have been told. “Well, what brings you home?”
Wrong. Loud incorrect buzzer. So loud. So incorrect. Texas isn’t home. The only part about it that’s going to make Eddie feel like he’s coming home is the curly haired teen who probably still hates him.
Which is just. Great. Eddie’s super thrilled with his life right now, really. It’s all just fucking dandy.
“Family,” Eddie says stiffly, and Buck shoots him another funny look at the vagueness of his answer.
My son would have been a lot more specific and a lot more honest, because, in reality, Eddie actually feels like he’s leaving his family behind.
The thing that brings him is the thing that is home, but Eddie can hardly begin to explain that to someone who is practically a complete stranger. He has no obligation to, anyway. It’s not any of her business. She’s here to find him an affordable house, not to become his new best friend.
“Well, it’s a lovely place to raise a family, too,” Cassidy says enthusiastically, really trying to sell Eddie on it. She can probably tell how unenthusiastic he is about the premise of moving. “I’m sure the three of you will be very happy here.”
Well. Okay, sure.
In her defence, Eddie supposes, it really does seem like Buck is the one doing the buying. And moving.
“Oh, um,” Buck chuckles nervously, glancing at Eddie to gauge whether or not he’s supposed to correct her. It’s probably something Eddie should do, but he doesn’t. “It’s actually just going to be Eddie and Chris. I’m staying in Los Angeles.”
You’d think the woman would quit making assumptions after she got the first one wrong, but instead she smiles sympathetically and says, “Oh, no. You’re doing long distance?”
Buck, for the first time in maybe this entire conversation, looks to Eddie to answer, instead of correcting her himself.
“Uh, yeah,” Eddie mumbles, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, kind of.”
Which—in his completely unbiased and mostly logical opinion—is a totally reasonable answer because 1) Eddie does not have to explain himself to her and 2) He and Buck technically are doing long distance. It’s just a friendship, rather than a romantic relationship.
So. Whatever. Semantics.
If she wants to go ahead and assume that Buck’s suggestion for a third bedroom was in case they wanted to have a second child together, then she can go right ahead and assume all she wants. She doesn’t need to know the whole truth to sell him a decent house.
Probably sensing the tension and awkwardness she’s created, Cassidy moves swiftly on, suggesting other suitable houses on the market and continuing to narrow down their options.
She hangs up just before eleven for another conference, letting them know that she’ll send them a detailed list of their options by the end of day.
As soon as she’s off the phone, Buck turns to Eddie with an expectant look.
“Well, that went well,” Eddie says evasively, standing up and heading back towards the kitchen to avoid the inevitable confrontation.
“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Buck scoffs, following. “Did you communicate anything to her in advance? She didn’t even know, like, your most basic criteria.”
In all honesty, Eddie hadn’t even attempted. This whole meeting was a half hearted attempt to take the next step and convince himself he was doing the right thing. He wasn’t even one hundred percent certain he was going through with it until Buck jumped on board.
And he knows that this is obviously not something Buck wants , despite his seeming enthusiasm, but he thinks if Buck actually ever tried to articulate that, Eddie would be too tempted to stay.
So, for the first time in a long time, Eddie is glad Buck doesn’t say what he really thinks.
“I hadn’t really gotten that far,” Eddie offers lamely. “Kind of thought that was what the meeting was for.”
“Well, I guess it’s lucky I came over when I did, then,” Buck says.
The response lingers on the tip of his tongue and Eddie almost answers on instinct— What would I do without you?
But he’s actually going to have to find out soon, and saying it aloud feels too fragile. So he swallows the words down, his chest tightening around the unspoken truth. Instead, he exhales—a sound that might’ve started as a laugh, but never quite made it.
“Yeah,” he mutters. “Yeah, I guess.”
Now is around the time that he would ordinarily offer Buck a beer to distract them both from discussing their feelings. But since it’s eleven AM on a Sunday morning and neither of them have even finished their coffees, Eddie refrains from doing such a thing.
He’s about to change the topic completely—ask Buck about his post break up baking escapades or something—when he notices the broken look on his best friend’s face and decides avoiding this altogether is selfish.
Buck has given Eddie so much. Eddie can at least give him this.
“I appreciate it, you know.”
It kind of goes without saying, but Eddie feels the need to say it anyway.
“Well, hey, what else am I gonna do about it?” Buck says, and Eddie catches the slip before Buck does—the bitter edge in his voice, the resignation he doesn’t mean to reveal. But Buck recovers fast, slipping back into easy enthusiasm like it’s second nature. “You gotta be with Chris. This is good, Eddie. This is a really good thing. You two should be together, no matter where that is. I’m happy for you.”
He sounds like he means it. Maybe he even does. Buck is selfless by nature, and he truly does want what’s best for the people he loves, even if it hurts him in the process.
But Eddie knows better. He knows that this isn’t what’s best, just something that needs to be done. He knows there isn’t much to be happy for—because Eddie isn’t going to be happy in Texas, and Buck isn’t going to be happy without Eddie and Chris.
They’re both just clinging to the relief that Eddie will be with Chris. They’re both just aching over the fact that Eddie won’t be with Buck.
So, neither of them are happy. In fact, they’re both probably a little sad. For each other and for themselves.
And Eddie knows that. He knows that Buck knows that he knows. He knows that Buck knows that he knows that Buck knows. But they can’t acknowledge it out loud, because then it changes everything.
Even if they can’t acknowledge that, Eddie thinks he should still acknowledge something. He should acknowledge something, so that there’s absolutely no chance that Buck feels like leaving him is something Eddie wants to do.
“You know, if this were anyone else, I wouldn’t be doing this. I wouldn’t be leaving the 118 again.” A beat. Eddie’s hand itches to reach out and grab Buck’s shoulder. He manages to keep it at his side. “I would never leave you .”
“I know.” Buck nods solemnly, offering Eddie a sad, sort of forced, half smile. “But it’s Chris.”
“It’s Chris,” Eddie echoes.
It almost feels like he’s trying to convince himself.
🛋️🛋️🛋️
When Buck leaves Eddie’s house an hour later, he doesn’t really think about where he’s going—just kind of gets in his car and drives himself straight to Maddie’s place.
He’s not sure why this feels like the worst day of his life. Objectively, he’s had far worse. The day he quite literally died should easily outshine finding out that his best friend is moving across the country.
It doesn’t.
Dying was quick. Easy. Painless, until he woke up again. Eddie leaving is going to be slow. Drawn out. Gut-wrenching. In fact, if Buck was going to choose any day that comes remotely close to being as bad as this one, it would be the day he stood in the street and watched Eddie bleed out on the pavement.
Time stood still then; Buck’s whole world stopped, the same way it has now.
Maybe it’s fitting, in a way. If the best moments in his life are tied to Eddie, then the worst ones should be too, right? To restore the balance. Regression to the mean.
Except it doesn’t average out. It should—but it doesn’t. Because having Eddie is worth more than anything, and losing him doesn’t just tip the scales; it shatters them completely, leaving Buck in a deficit so deep he doesn’t know how to climb out.
Whether it’s watching Eddie bleed out in the street or watching him walk away now, Buck has never known how to handle it. He’s never known how he’s been expected to recover.
Eddie’s not dead or dying, but it’s happening again—differently, but the same as the first time. Both events were sudden, unexpected—a brutal kind of shock—but somehow still slow, and agonizing in their inevitability.
Another thing he isn’t ready to lose is slipping through his fingers while he stands there, helpless to stop it., and all Buck can do is make himself the target while he carries Eddie to safety.
Maybe he should’ve seen this coming. Maybe he should’ve known that nothing good ever stays—not for him. Maybe he should have known that happiness, for him, always comes with an expiration date.
Because that’s the thing about Buck’s life: everything he’s ever loved has slipped through his fingers, no matter how tightly he’s tried to hold on.
He has never once in his life been allowed to hold on to something that makes him feel good. It was naive and foolish of him to think that he ever could, and he doesn’t know why he was stupid enough to think it would be any different when he met Eddie.
Maybe because Eddie made him feel different. He gave Buck reasons to believe he would never leave—he stuck by Buck’s side, even when Buck was at his worst, and made him feel like maybe he was worth fighting for, after all.
Instead of focusing on the road ahead, like he should if he doesn't want to crash and die, Buck thinks of all the promises Eddie ever made to him. Every vow he made to stay.
He already kind of feels like he’s dying again anyway. It doesn’t seem like there’s any point in trying to prevent it.
That won’t happen to us, when Buck worried his team would end up strangers.
You’re stuck with us, when Buck had made some incorrect assumptions and requested a transfer.
Because, Evan, when Buck had been acting like he was expendable and Eddie needed to make sure he was listening when he told him he was wrong.
Was he, though? He’s kind of feeling expendable again now, as irrational as that feeling is—it would be unfair of him to let his own insecurities make him doubt Eddie’s conviction, but he can’t really help it. Eddie made it perfectly clear that he does want to stay for him. That he is worth staying for.
It’s just that Christopher is worth more.
And Buck can’t refute that logic. Can’t even begin to resent it. It’s true, and it’s important, and he would rather die than stand in the way of it.
It still sucks majorly for him, though.
He ends up disassociating so intensely that he barely even remembers the drive. When he makes it to Maddie’s, miraculously in one piece, he doesn’t have the presence of mind to find his key and let himself in.
He hardly thinks his sister would appreciate him barging inside in this deranged state, anyway.
His body goes through the motions—walking up to Maddie’s door, knocking twice, shifting his weight from foot to foot—while his brain tries to catch up to the fact that the world is, in fact, still spinning.
His fist is still raised against the wood when she eventually swings the door open.
“He’s…” Buck doesn’t realize he’s breathless until the word catches in his throat. He swallows hard, past the razor-sharp ache lodged there, forcing himself to keep it together. Pretending there aren’t tears burning at the edges of his vision, he steadies himself just enough to get the rest out. “He’s leaving.”
“Who’s leaving?” Maddie frowns. “Tommy?”
And, well, that puts it all into perspective, doesn’t it? Because who gives a fuck about Tommy right now? Buck has not given him so much as a second thought since the moment he flipped over Eddie’s tablet.
It’s a fair assumption on Maddie’s behalf, though, given the way he’s been behaving since the break up. Hell, his inability to move on from Tommy is the whole stupid reason he showed up to Eddie’s this morning in the first place.
So, Maddie’s natural conclusion is valid. Buck still can’t help but feel slightly offended.
“No, not Tommy ,” he corrects, and he only belatedly realises he sounds kind of disgusted by the concept. “ Eddie. ”
“What?” she asks shrilly. “What do you mean Eddie’s leaving ?”
“He’s moving to El Paso,” Buck says flatly, still lingering awkwardly in the doorway.
Maddie’s jaw drops. “Wha— Permanently ?”
“He’s buying a house, Maddie,” Buck laments, as she opens the door wider to invite him in. He can feel her worried gaze tracking him as he makes his way into her living room. “He’s buying a house, and he’s moving to El Paso, and I’m…” Buck shakes his head helplessly, collapsing onto her couch. “I don’t know what to do.”
His big sister, still standing, gives him that look . The one he hates—the soft, pitying one that makes her brow crease and her head tilt, like she’s already halfway to diagnosing him.
“Well,” she says gently, lowering herself into the armchair adjacent to him, hands folded in her lap like a damn therapist. “What do you want to do?”
Certainly not help him fucking house hunt for a place to live across the country. But what else is he supposed to do?
“I want to tell him to stay.”
Tell. Not ask. He wants to be selfish. He wants to demand that Eddie stays. Give him no other alternative. Because he doesn’t think he can handle asking and being told no. No, Buck, you’re not worth staying for .
He’s sick of hearing that as it is. Hearing it from Eddie’s lips would likely break him.
And he knows, logically, that isn’t the reality of the situation. Eddie made a point of making that very clear to him. It isn’t the full picture either, and it omits some key details, like the Chris of it all, but it still hurts just as much.
It still feels like he isn’t enough. No matter how much Eddie declares otherwise.
“Then… do that,” Maddie suggests, like it could really be that simple.
“I can’t.” Buck exhales sharply. “He wants to be close to Chris—to watch him grow up, to not miss out on any more of his life. I can’t just… tell him to give that up.”
He can’t ask Eddie to stay. He can’t ask Eddie to choose. Not when the other option is Christopher.
It’s not even a choice, really.
Eddie will always prioritize Chris, and Buck won’t begrudge him for that. He can’t. He’d make the same decision in a heartbeat if it were ever his to make.
And he stands by what he told Eddie—it is a good decision. He wouldn’t have been so supportive if he thought it was a mistake. Just because it’s bad for Buck, it doesn’t mean it’s bad altogether. It’s a positive thing—Eddie and Christopher being together again, no matter where that is. He meant that when he said it.
Buck can’t resent Eddie for going to Chris instead of bringing him home—not when all Buck has ever wanted was for someone to chase after him. To love him with the same certainty, the same unwavering and unconditional devotion that Eddie gives to his son.
If this is what Christopher needs—if this is what will help Eddie and Chris repair their relationship—then Buck won’t stand in the way. He won’t hold their fresh start against them, even if it means getting left behind.
“He doesn’t have to give it up, though,” Maddie counters. “He doesn’t have to give anything up.”
“Staying here without Chris would mean giving everything up, Maddie,” Buck tells her emphatically. “He loves that kid more than anything. He can’t live without him anymore, and I can’t blame him.”
“Then why doesn’t he just bring Christopher home?” Maddie asks.
It’s another perfectly valid question—one Buck has already asked himself, searching desperately for an answer until, finally, he found it.
“He doesn’t want to break down the door,” he responds cryptically, not bothering to explain the significance of its meaning. He thinks she’ll get it anyway. “He wants Christopher to open it.”
“Isn’t moving to Texas still breaking down the door?” Maddie presses. “How is relocating to the same state any different to bringing Chris back home?”
“It just is,” Buck declares stubbornly.
He doesn’t know how to explain it to Maddie, but it makes a certain amount of sense when he tries to justify it in his own head. He thinks Eddie probably twisted himself in the same circles trying to reason with the conclusion.
Bringing Chris home, against his will, would do nothing to improve their already fragile relationship. Eddie’s the adult, so maybe that means he should be the one calling the shots. But he’s also the one who fucked up, so he should be the one to make the sacrifice.
He’s compromising his needs and wants to prioritise Christopher’s, the same way he has for Christopher’s whole life, but this time it’s driven by guilt.
And Buck has made endless excuses for Eddie, justified his actions through grief and reasoned that he’s not solely to blame. But at the end of the day, he hurt Chris, and Buck knows nothing he can say or do will make Eddie forgive himself for that.
He can understand why Chris is having difficulty forgiving him too, even though Buck’s confident the kid will eventually come around. He just needs to be reminded how much Eddie loves him. And if the way to do that is by Eddie moving to Texas, then, well—
The more time and distance that grows between Buck and Eddie, the worse the pain is going to get for Buck. But it’s better that the gap grows between them than between Eddie and Christopher.
“Right, well,” Maddie’s tentative voice snaps him out of his thoughts. “If he’s going to leave, then maybe… maybe you should tell him how you feel.”
Hm. Yeah. Despite his best attempts to the contrary, Buck’s pretty certain Eddie already knows exactly how he feels about this situation.
He tried his hardest to put on a brave face and be as supportive as he could, but he’s sure Eddie probably saw right through it anyway.
Eddie has always been able to read Buck like an open book. Maybe because every page has his name written on it, like Buck’s the poet and Eddie is the muse.
Read me, Eddie. See me, Eddie.
But Eddie reads Buck like a book, and Buck knows Eddie like the back of his own hand, so there are just some things they don’t need to talk about to understand. Other things, maybe they should talk about, but both choose to leave unsaid.
This is just another one of those things that will stay unspoken between them. But they’ll both know the truth like it’s a fact of life: the sky is blue, the grass is green, Eddie is going to move, and Buck is going to miss him.
But Maddie doesn’t necessarily know that the delicate balance of their dynamic requires avoidance. So, he asks, “How do you know I haven’t already done that?”
“Buck,” she sighs, giving him a knowing look. “Come on. It’s not an easy conversation to have. Especially with your… history.”
Right. His history. It always repeats itself, doesn’t it?
Buck lets himself get comfortable with someone, starts to believe they’ll be there forever—only for them to leave. Suddenly. Without warning. Out of his life faster than they ever entered it, barely sparing him a glance when he begs them to stay.
He couldn’t survive going through that with Eddie. Especially when he already knows how it ends.
He’s seen enough endings to recognize the shape of this one. Knows the hollow ache it leaves behind, the way absence becomes a constant presence.
He’s lived through enough losses to understand that some things are better left unsaid—because saying them doesn’t change the outcome. It just makes the goodbye hurt more.
So why the hell would she encourage him to say anything? Why would she advocate for him to lay it all out, to hand Eddie the full weight of his feelings when Buck already knows how this story ends?
Maddie wouldn’t want him to make it worse, but maybe she just doesn't understand. It can’t be because she’s never the one left behind—the same rules apply for the person leaving. It’s just—Well, maybe she just doesn’t understand Buck and Eddie. What they have. How they work.
“Yeah, but…” he hesitates in his explanation, wincing as he picks at a loose thread on his pants. “But what if some things are just better left unsaid?”
“Something this big needs to be talked about,” Maddie insists. “You can’t just—” She pauses, taking a contemplative breath, measuring her words, “avoid it because you're scared of how he’ll react.”
“It’s not just that,” Buck argues. “It’s—I don’t want to make him feel guilty for leaving.”
“Maybe he won’t leave if he knows how you feel,” Maddie suggests.
“I think he already knows,” Buck mutters, shrugging. “If I say it out loud, it just—makes it harder.”
“So, you’re just going to let him go without telling him the truth?” Maddie presses. She sounds kind of disbelieving, and maybe a little bit… mad? Annoyed? Impatient? Buck can’t quite decipher it.
He doesn’t like the idea of carrying around unsaid thoughts and feelings, but he likes the idea of burdening Eddie with them even less. Besides, Eddie can read him. Read his mind. There’s not much he can say that Eddie wouldn’t already know.
“Even if I told him,” Buck ventures, “It’s not going to change anything.”
“It could ,” Maddie insists stubbornly. “It could change everything for the better. You won’t know unless you try.”
“I can’t .” Buck shakes his head. “I have to let him go. He needs to be with Chris.”
“What about you , Buck?” Maddie asks. “You matter too. Even if Eddie doesn’t like everything you have to say, you’re still his best friend. You’re an important part of his life.”
Buck swallows. “I know that.”
“So don’t you think he would want to hear what you have to say to him?”
“Maddie—You didn’t see him, okay?” Buck’s voice is raw, thick with something he refuses to name. “He didn’t tell me he was leaving. I found out.” Maddie’s face drops at the revelation, and Buck presses on before she can respond. “And he probably didn’t tell me because he was scared of how I’d react. He needs me to be supportive about this.”
Maddie doesn’t respond right away. Instead, she just looks at him, really looks at him, scanning his face like she’s searching for something unspoken beneath his words. But there’s nothing to find. Buck is already laying his heart bare, already saying exactly what he means. No hidden meanings, no messages between the lines—just the truth, in all its aching finality.
He sees the moment Maddie finally understands. The way her expression softens, the fight leaving her shoulders as she exhales.
“He’s really lucky to have you, Buck,” she says, offering a sad, proud smile. Buck wishes he couldn’t see the tears in her eyes. “They both are.”
“I promised I’d always be there for them, Maddie,” he stresses, and there’s no hesitation, no doubt. “I’m not going to let this change that.”
Buck has always been committed to Eddie and Chris, since the day he met them both. But it hadn’t really hit him—what that commitment meant—until Eddie was yelling at him in the middle of a grocery store in front of their entire team, making it painfully clear that wanted Buck to be there for him in that way.
In the aftermath of the lawsuit, Buck had apologized, over and over, for not being there when Eddie needed him most. He made a promise then—not just to Eddie, but to himself—that he would never let them down again. And he’s kept that promise, without question, without hesitation.
He doesn’t intend to break it now. Or ever.
“You’re really not going to say anything?” Maddie asks again, but this time, it’s not disapproval—it’s quiet disbelief. “You’re just going to let him go and… move on?”
“I don’t know if I can,” he admits with a shrug of his shoulders. “But I have to try.”
Maddie studies him warily for a long moment, then exhales. “Are you sure you don’t want to—”
“No,” Buck cuts in firmly. “And you can’t say anything to anyone either.”
Maddie holds up her hands in surrender. “Okay,” she agrees. “Okay, I won’t.”
🛋️🛋️🛋️
“You’re not moving,” is the first thing Maddie says when Eddie swings open his front door to find her standing on his porch. No greeting, no preamble—just a blunt, matter-of-fact statement. Which is strange, because Eddie can’t actually remember the last time Maddie visited him like this.
Actually, he’s fairly certain she never has.
“Uh, hi, Maddie.” He blinks, caught off guard. “Can I help you?”
“You’re not moving to El Paso,” she repeats, more specific this time, before shouldering past him like a woman possessed. She doesn’t even hesitate. Just steps inside as if she owns the place.
Eddie stares after her, baffled. Her whole demeanour seems very un-Maddie-like. He’s never seen her so crazed before. It honestly kind of scares him.
“Um, I’m…” Eddie tries to compose himself as he shuts the door behind her, “Buck told you about that?”
“Of course he told me,” she all but snaps, though there’s an amused eye-roll in there that makes Eddie feel like he’s the one being ridiculous. “What, you didn’t think his best friend moving across the country might send him into a spiral?”
It’s kind of weird to hear Maddie so openly refer to them as best friends. It’s not wrong, or anything. That’s exactly what they are.
But the way she says it kind of makes them sound like they’re fifteen-year-old girls who swap friendship bracelets and tell each other everything, rather than the two grown men who often avoid talking about their feelings that they are.
“Hang on,” Eddie says, trying to steady himself from the underlying accusation he just picked up on. “I’m not leaving him .”
“You are, though.”
“Not by choice.”
Maddie ducks down dramatically, glancing around the room as if searching for something. “Is someone holding you at gunpoint?” she asks in a stage-whisper, her voice dripping with mock concern. “Should I call 9-1-1?”
Eddie snorts at her antics, which, admittedly, would be pretty funny if they weren’t aimed at making fun of him. “You are 9-1-1,” he retorts with a fond shake of his head.
“Exactly.” Maddie straightens up again, dropping the act. “And I’m here to intervene with an emergency.”
Eddie raises an eyebrow, intrigued but skeptical, waiting for her to explain.
“Look,” Maddie begins, her tone shifting. “I wouldn’t usually get involved in this. It’s not really my business where you choose to live.”
“Yet, here you are.”
“Yeah, well, it might not be my business, but it is Buck’s business. He’s my brother. And you’re his—” Her breath hitches so minutely that Eddie almost misses it, the slightest pause as she stumbles over the word, “—family too. So by the law of sibling duty—”
“You’ve made it your business,” Eddie concludes.
Maddie shrugs. “I can be nosy like that.”
Her smile is playful, genuine—so much like Buck’s that it aches.
“If Buck wanted me to stay, he would have asked me himself,” Eddie argues, but the words taste like a lie even as he says them. He knows it. Maddie knows it. He doesn’t think he’s ever actually believed it.
He makes a beeline for the kitchen, striding past Maddie without meeting her eyes. It’s easier to lie when he doesn’t have to look at her.
“He won’t do that, and you know it,” Maddie counters, following close behind. Her voice softens when she adds, “And you know why, too.”
Eddie sighs, then spins back to face her, bracing against the counter. “Because of Christopher.”
Maddie nods. “He loves that kid as much as you do.” She says it with quiet certainty, with a warm, knowing smile that makes Eddie’s chest tighten. “He’s not going to stand in your way, even if it kills him.”
Eddie doesn’t need her to tell him any of that to know that it’s true, but part of him is glad someone else recognizes it.
“So, by law of sibling duty,” he says, attempting levity, “you’re here to do it for him?”
“Eddie,” Maddie warns, her tone sharp enough to cut. Listen to me carefully, or there will be consequences.
She steps closer, eyes burning with quiet determination. “I spent most of my life looking out for Buck when no one else would. Not even Buck himself. And I’m never going to stop.”
She swallows hard, blinking rapidly. “But when he met you, I got to worry less. Because I knew there was someone else looking out for him—someone who cared about him as much as I did. And…” She inhales sharply, her voice catching—like she’s fighting to keep a sob at bay, but her wet eyes and quivering lip give her away. “And it wasn’t all on me anymore.”
Eddie’s throat tightens. “Maddie, I still—”
“I know,” she interrupts, her voice steadier now. “I know you’ll always look out for him. That’s what the two of you do for each other, right?”
She lets the words settle between them before adding, softer but firm: “But you can’t exactly watch his back from Texas.”
Eddie clenches his jaw. “I’ll still try.”
Maddie gives him a small, sad smile. “I know you will.” She pauses, then meets his gaze head-on. “But I don’t want him to have to watch your back as you walk away from him.”
Eddie wants to argue, but he’s speechless. Just imagining it is eating him up inside; he cannot even begin to fathom what the real thing will be like.
“Buck is used to people leaving him,” she continues. “He’s maybe gotten a little too good at saying goodbyes.”
He still doesn't know what to say, so he lets Maddie keep talking.
“When you and I first moved to L.A, he was still waiting for Abby to come back. You saw what that did to him.”
Eddie smiles fondly, shaking his head at the memory. “Did he tell you what a jerk he was to me for my first couple of shifts?”
“Eddie, from the moment my brother met you, you were all I heard about,” Maddie tells him, equally as amused. “He would not shut up about you.”
“All good things?” Eddie jokes, because he’s fairly certain that they wouldn't have been.
“Yes,” Maddie groans, exasperated but amused. “It was nauseating. ‘ Eddie’s such a good father, he loves his kid so much, he called me a badass, he said I could have his back any day, he should have been on the hot firefighter calendar’— it was never ending, Eddie, I swear. I knew more about you in the first week than I did about his actual girlfriend.”
Eddie chuckles, but something about that last part makes his stomach twist. “Because she left, ” he realizes.
“That’s not the point I’m making,” Maddie says, though her expression softens. “What you and Buck have—it’s so much more than what he ever had with Abby. But when people leave him—Abby, Ali, Taylor, Tommy—it chips away at his self-worth. He starts to feel unlovable. So he tries to change, to be something people might want, and sometimes he just—I think he loses himself along the way.”
Eddie frowns, the pattern clicking into place. Abby, Ali, Taylor, Tommy. People who left. He’s the odd one out.
The realization unsettles him. He clears his throat. “ You realize I’m not dating Buck, right? ” He hesitates, then adds, “ I’m straight.”
He’s not sure why he feels compelled to clarify—the same way he had when rejecting what he thought was flirting from Father Brian—but Maddie’s expression turns exasperated in an instant.
“That’s not the point, Eddie,” she says. “You mean more to him than all of those people combined, and he’s still going to let you walk away because he thinks that’s what you want. Is it what you want?”
And Eddie thinks Maddie might have gotten it twisted, because he’s fairly certain Buck knows this is not actually what he wants, but rather what he needs. Something he has to do, for Christopher.
“I just want my kid back,” Eddie answers defeatedly.
“Then go get him back!” Maddie implores. “But don’t buy a house.”
“What else am I supposed to do?”
“Rent!” Maddie practically shrieks. She’s looking at him like he’s the stupidest, most infuriating man alive. “Stay in a hotel! Stay with your family! I don’t know, Eddie, but maybe try something a little less permanent.”
“I don’t want it to be permanent,” he admits, though it doesn't really feel like a secret. “But if Christopher never wants to come home… I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do.”
Maddie shakes her head, exasperated. “You’re taking a really big gamble on a ‘what if.’” She levels him with a look. “What if he does want to come home?”
And—Okay, well, so maybe Eddie hasn’t really thought this scenario through. He wants nothing more than to just be with Christopher, but again, he has been so focused on what he would be gaining that he didn’t think through what he was giving up—not just his people, but his house, his job, the entire life he had worked so hard to create for him and Chris in L.A.
But Chris has given him no signs that he plans to return home. He wanted Eddie to send his bloody Brad Torrance autograph to hang up in his room in Texas.
Eddie has a one track mind and the only thing on it right now is being with Christoper. He hasn’t really considered anything else. Or he's tried not to, at least. He's beginning to think that may have been a mistake.
“Doing what’s best for your kid doesn’t always make them happy,” Maddie plows on, when Eddie fails to respond to the question. “But you’re a good dad, Eddie. You just have to trust yourself.”
Eddie shakes his head, replaying all his mistakes. “What if I’m not enough?”
He’s always tried to be, and he’ll never stop trying. But what if Christopher needs more? What if he wants more—Wants something other than Eddie? Eddie will never let his child slip through his fingers, but he refuses to deny him the things that make him happy.
Maddie steps forward, unwavering. “What if you are ?” she counters. “Because you are , Eddie.”
She softens, her voice threading with something deeply personal. “Take it from me, okay? One of the hardest parts of being a parent is trusting yourself to make the right decisions for them. And even when they don’t like them, you still show up. You try your best, and you love them unconditionally.”
Eddie isn’t sure if she’s speaking from experience with Jee-Yun or with Buck. Maybe both. Either way, he thinks they’re really lucky to have her.
“And when you can’t do those things,” she continues, “you have to trust that you’ve chosen the right people to step up and help you.” She meets his eyes. “You’re not alone in this, Eddie. But even if you were, you’d still be enough.”
Eddie nods, head bobbing repeatedly. He scrunches his mouth up to the side, trying not to let emotion get the best of him. “Thanks, Maddie.”
She gives him a small smile. “We’re all here for you. And for Christopher.” A pause. “Especially Buck.”
Eddie huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You don’t have to tell me how great Buck is. I know. ”
Maddie tilts her head, considering him. “And you trust him with Christopher, right?”
“More than anyone,” Eddie says without hesitation.
“Then don’t take them away from each other.”
Eddie opens his mouth—hesitates. “I—”
Maddie’s gaze sharpens. “I trusted you with him,” she says, and it lands like a challenge. “Did I make a mistake?”
Eddie’s answer is immediate. “No.”
“Good. Then prove it, ” she dares. “Don’t walk away from him like everyone else.”
“I don’t want to!” Eddie exclaims, dragging a hand down his face frustratedly. “But I have to go get Chris. I have to show up, right?”
Maddie just laughs at him in amusement, shaking her head. “You know, for a smart man, you can be really stupid sometimes.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Excuse me?”
“Go get Chris, Eddie.” Her voice is softer now, but insistent. “Get him—and bring him home. ”
There’s an unspoken to Buck at the end of her sentence, and for the first time, Eddie hears it. Really hears it.
His breath hitches. “Okay.”
Maddie narrows her eyes. “Okay?”
“Okay,” he repeats, firmer this time. “I’ll go to Texas, and I’ll do everything I can to bring him back.”
He’ll do exactly what Maddie said—he’ll show up, he’ll try his best, he’ll love his son unconditionally. And he’ll hope, with everything in him, that it’s enough.
Maddie studies him, then lets out a breathy laugh. “Really?”
Eddie shrugs. “It might take a while, though,” he admits.
Maddie just smiles. “Then you’d better get going.”
“You have time for a coffee first?” He asks, jutting his thumbs towards the fuckass Hildy machine Buck bought him years ago. “Least I can offer in return for your words of wisdom.”
“I wouldn’t mind a tea?” she requests hopefully.
“Coming right up.”
“So,” Maddie says, as she slides into one of the seats in his kitchen and makes herself comfortable, “that big speech actually worked?”
“It was good,” he confirms, flicking the kettle on. “Very big sisterly.”
“Not too much?”
Eddie laughs airily. “Not sure any less would have gotten through to me.”
Maddie shrugs her eyebrows and hums in acknowledgement. “You are pretty stubborn.”
“So I’ve been told,” Eddie says. “Shame my kid inherited it. He’s not going to make this easy.”
“They never do,” she muses. “But they make it worth it.”
Eddie just smiles. He can’t argue with that.