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Three weeks had passed since Buck's kidnapping and the ordeal that followed, including his two-week hospital stay.
Thankfully, this time Buck had actually listened. He followed the doctors' orders to take it slow, really slow, no arguments, no shortcuts. He was still on sick leave for at least another three weeks, maybe more if the follow-ups showed anything lingering. For the past week, though, he had gone almost completely dark. Texts that once came fast and full of emojis now arrived as single words, if they arrived at all. Calls went unanswered. The radio silence and the absence started to feel louder than any alarm bell.
That quiet pulled Maddie and Eddie together like gravity. They compared notes in worried, late-night messages: he hasn't posted anything, he hasn't even reacted to the group chat, something's off.
Chimney was halfway across the country at a training camp in Montana, unreachable except for sporadic check-ins. Hen was single-handedly keeping the 118 from falling apart while everyone else worried. So it fell to Maddie and Eddie. On Thursday afternoon, their schedules finally lined up.
Christopher was at a friend's birthday sleepover, buzzing with cake and video games. Maddie's kids were safely with Karen for the night. No excuses left.
When Maddie appeared at Eddie's front door, she looked like she hadn't slept properly in days. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her smile fragile enough to break.
"Hi," she said. The word trembled.
"Hi, Maddie." Eddie searched her face. "Is everything okay?"
She shook her head, quick and small. "I've been trying to reach Buck since this morning. Nothing. Not a text, not a call back. Have you had any luck?"
Eddie grimaced. "No. Unfortunately, he's not answering mine either." He stepped aside. "But please, come in. Would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea, water?"
"No, no. No need." Her voice cracked. "I just want to check on him. Can we go right away?" Tears welled up, and she blinked them back furiously.
"Yeah, of course." Eddie felt a pang in his chest. He had never seen her this close to unraveling. "I'll just grab my things."
He snatched his keys, his wallet, and the cake Aunt Pepa had insisted he take ("Mijo, Evan needs real food, not those protein bars he lives on") and a six-pack of non-alcoholic beer from the fridge. Supplies. Comfort. Something normal to carry into whatever waited.
A few minutes later, they were in Eddie's truck, heading toward Buck's house. Maddie sat rigid beside him, fingers knotted in her lap.
"Who knows what we'll find there," she said quietly. "He could be lying on the floor in the house. Or the driveway. Or down in the basement, where no one would hear even if he screamed at the top of his voice. God, Eddie, I don't know what I'll do if he…"
"Maddie, don't… don't go there." Eddie kept his voice even, even though the same images had been looping in his own head for hours. "Maybe he's asleep. Maybe the phone's dead. Charger died, battery pulled, ringer off. There are dozens of reasons."
"Or he's had a relapse." She pulled a crumpled tissue from her pocket and pressed it to her nose. "You know how it was last time. The clots came out of nowhere. Weeks of nothing, then suddenly he was coughing blood."
"I'm sure he's fine," Eddie said, softer now. "Maybe he just needs space. He's been through hell. He really has a lot to deal with."
He was trying to soothe her, but the words tasted thin even to him. Inside, he was just as torn up. He didn't want to scare Maddie more, didn't want to admit how many worst-case scenarios he'd already run through.
Eddie shifted into high gear and pressed the accelerator harder than necessary. The sooner they got there, the sooner the not-knowing would end.
Buck's street looked calm when they pulled up. The little house sat quietly under the big old oak, curtains drawn halfway, no lights on downstairs, no ambulance in sight. No flashing lights. No neighbors clustered. Everything normal. Too normal.
Eddie cut the engine. He reached into the back seat for the basket with Maddie's chicken broth in its Tupperware, Pepa's cake and the six-pack while Maddie fished Buck's spare key out of her purse with shaking fingers.
"Well," Eddie said, trying for lightness, "at least he's not lying in the driveway."
Maddie shot him a venomous look. "Not funny, Eddie. Not funny."
"Sorry, Maddie."
The key slipped from her hand twice, clattering against the welcome mat. On the third try, it slid home. The lock clicked. They stepped inside.
The house smelled faintly of coffee.
"Doesn't look like an active crime scene," he quipped.
"Eddie!"
He sighed and let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
They moved through the entryway like they were trespassing anyway. Eddie set the basket on the kitchen island. Maddie clutched her purse strap so tight her knuckles went white. Together they edged toward the living room, braced for the worst: Buck crumpled on the couch, or the rug, or…
A man walked out of the hallway wearing nothing but surprise.
Tall. Broad. Definitely not Buck.
All three of them froze. Then screamed, sharp, startled, overlapping yelps that echoed off the walls.
The stranger lunged sideways and snatched the nearest thing within reach: a large porcelain vase filled with two dozens red roses.
He clutched it desperately in front of his groin, petals quivering against his skin.
"Tommy?!" Eddie blurted.
Maddie's mouth opened and closed without sound.
Tommy's eyebrows shot toward his hairline. "Maddie?! Eddie?!"
Just then, Buck appeared from the direction of the bedroom, equally naked, equally stunned, equally doomed.
Tommy responded quickly, shoving the water-soaked bouquet into Buck's hands. The vase stayed with Tommy, serving as his only shield from the astonished visitors' looks.
Buck took the roses on instinct. He positioned the dripping bundle strategically in front of himself. Water trickled down his wrist and onto the hardwood.
For a long heartbeat, nobody moved.
Buck found his voice first.
"Maddie. Eddie." His tone was dangerously polite. "How nice. It would have been even nicer if you'd called first."
"We did call," Maddie said. Her voice was tight.
"Since this morning," Eddie added. "Over and over."
"But you didn't answer." Maddie's tone sharpened into something almost accusing.
"And so you just break in here?" Buck shot back.
"I think I'll go now," Tommy muttered, already half-turning toward the hallway.
Eddie threw out a hand like a referee. "In any case, Tommy, you stay where you are. Maddie and I have already seen the full monty. We don't need to see any more."
Maddie ignored the banter entirely.
She stepped forward, eyes blazing, and held Buck's spare key up between trembling fingers like evidence.
"I have a key to your house, Evan Buckley. I don't need to break in."
To drive the point home, she waved it once, sharply.
"She called you Evan Buckley," Tommy muttered under his breath. "Now things are really going to get uncomfortable."
Maddie rounded in on Buck again, voice cracking open. "I was worried we'd find you in the driveway. Or somewhere in the house. Unconscious. Or worse. Because you hadn't been in touch. Your phone must be drowning in texts, calls, and voicemails. And meanwhile..."
She gestured toward Tommy without looking at him. "Meanwhile..."
"Meanwhile, what?" Buck asked, low and provocative.
"Meanwhile, you're having sex with your ex?" Eddie said. It came out sounding more like a question than an accusation.
Buck and Tommy exchanged a quick glance. Then they both turned their attention back to Maddie and Eddie.
Tommy lifted one shoulder. "I'm not his ex anymore. We've..."
"We talked it out," Buck finished. "We're back together now. Happy?"
He was visibly annoyed, but there was a flicker of something softer underneath—relief, maybe, or just exhaustion.
Tommy looked like he wanted to sink through the floorboards, though a tiny, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Well, congratulations," Maddie said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.
"So the cat's out of the bag," Eddie said, gesturing vaguely toward Tommy's vase-covered midsection.
"Or whatever."
"Have you guys planned a surprise party we don't know about?" Buck asked dryly.
"Surprise..." Eddie scratched his stubbly jaw. "Buck, listen. Maddie and I were worried. That's all."
Buck looked down at the roses in his hands, then back up at them. Water dripped steadily onto his bare foot.
"Well," he said, softer now. "Now you know I'm fine. I have someone with me who's looking out for me. You're free to go."
Maddie let out a shaky breath. Eddie felt the knot in his chest loosen, just a fraction.
Buck shifted the weight from one foot to the other. Tommy adjusted his grip on the vase but didn't move.
Eddie cleared his throat. "Okay. Clothes. Seriously. Kitchen's that way. Cake, soup, beer. Non-alcoholic. Let's... not stand here like this anymore."
Buck huffed. "Yeah. Give us five minutes."
Tommy nodded so fast it was almost comical. "Five minutes. Tops."
Buck put the roses on the table, Tommy took the vase with him, going backwards until they vanished around the corner, moving down the hallway, footsteps quick and awkward. Maddie sank onto the arm of the couch like her legs had given up. Eddie leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed, trying to process.
Maddie stared at the roses. "Red. Of course they're red."
Eddie snorted. "Romantic bastard."
She almost smiled, then caught herself. "I was so scared, Eddie."
"I know. I was, too. Still kind of am."
Footsteps returned minutes later, as promised. Buck reappeared first, sweatpants, gray T-shirt, hair still mussed. Tommy followed in jeans and a black Henley, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else but still managing a sheepish half-grin.
While he put the roses back into the vase, Buck went straight to Maddie. He dropped to a crouch in front of her so they were at eye level.
"Mads. I'm sorry."
She looked at him for a long second, then reached out and smacked his shoulder, not hard, just enough to make a point.
"You don't get to disappear like that. Not after everything."
"I know."
"No, you don't." Her voice wobbled. "I kept picturing you on the floor. Alone. Not breathing. And then I get here, and you're... naked. With a bunch of red roses. And Tommy."
Buck winced. "Not my finest entrance."
Tommy hovered near the couch. "For what it's worth, I told him to text back. Multiple times."
Maddie glanced at him. "You should've made him."
"I tried, I swear. But your brother… He's stubborn."
"Understatement," came Eddies voice from the kitchen.
"Look, I didn't mean to ghost everyone. I just... after the hospital, I needed quiet. And then Tommy showed up with takeout and these stupid flowers, and we started talking. Really talking. And it turned into... this." Buck gestured vaguely at the room, at Tommy, at the vase. "I should've told you. I know."
Maddie studied him. "You're really okay?"
"Yeah." Buck's voice softened. "Better than okay, actually."
She exhaled, long and slow. "I hate that I had to barge in like this."
"You didn't barge," Buck said. "You used the key I gave you. Because you care. That's not barging. That's family."
Eddie showed up at the doorway. "Speaking of family... soup's getting cold. And Pepa will kill me if that cake dries out."
Tommy went over to him, "I'll grab plates."
Buck looked a little lost. "You guys staying?"
Maddie stood up. "Only if you promise never to ignore your phone ever a week again."
"No promises."
Eddie clapped Buck on the shoulder as he passed him.
"And maybe lock the door next time you're... occupied."
Buck groaned. "Noted."
Tommy and Eddie worked in sync. "Thanks for not, uh, making this weirder than it already was."
Eddie smirked. "Give it time. Night's young."
Maddie opened the foil on Pepa's cake and inhaled. "Smells like home."
Buck leaned against the counter, watching them all move around his space as they belonged there. Because they did.
He caught Tommy's eye across the island. Tommy gave him a small, private smile.
Buck smiled back.
Later that evening, after they finished the soup, the cake was reduced to crumbs, and the non-alcoholic beers had been cracked open and mostly drained, Maddie and Eddie finally left. Maddie hugged Buck so tightly he wheezed, then pulled back to point one finger in his face.
"Phone. On. Do not test me, Evan."
"Promise," Buck said, holding up both hands in surrender.
Eddie clapped him on the back—gentler than usual—and gave Tommy a nod that was equal parts warning and approval. "Take care of him. Or we'll be back with worse timing."
Tommy managed a grin. "Noted."
The front door clicked shut. The house settled into a sudden, soft quiet. Buck locked the door this time, double-checked it, then turned to find Tommy already gathering the empty bottles and carrying them to the bin.
They moved through the cleanup in comfortable tandem, Buck wiping counters, Tommy rinsing plates, like they'd done it a hundred times before. Oh, they had, in another life. Or maybe they were just starting to learn how again.
When the kitchen light flicked off, Buck caught Tommy's hand and tugged him toward the bedroom without a word. The hallway felt longer tonight, every step deliberate.
They didn't bother with the overhead light. Just the soft glow from the bedside lamp Buck had left on. Clothes came off slowly this time. Within minutes, there was just skin against skin, familiar and new all at once.
They slid under the covers, the sheets cool against their limbs. Buck ended up on his back, Tommy half-draped over him, head tucked under Buck's chin, one arm slung possessively across Buck's waist. Buck's fingers traced lazy circles on Tommy's shoulder blade.
For a long minute they just breathed. In. Out. Together.
Tommy spoke first, voice low and rough from the evening. "So. That happened."
Buck huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah. That definitely happened."
"Your sister almost murdered me with her eyes alone."
"She almost murdered me first." Buck tilted his head to press a kiss to Tommy's head.
"I deserved it."
Tommy shifted, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look at Buck's face. The lamplight caught the faint scar above Buck's eyebrow, the one from the kidnapping, still pink at the edges. Tommy traced it with his thumb.
"You scared them," he said softly. "Scared me too. When I showed up, and you hadn't answered my calls beforehand, I thought maybe you'd decided the quiet was better without me in it."
Buck caught Tommy's wrist, held it there against his cheek. "I wasn't deciding anything. I was just... tired. Of hurting. Of explaining. Of being the guy who almost died again. I didn't want to be that version of me for a while."
Tommy's expression softened. "I get it."
"But I should've told someone. Anyone." Buck swallowed. "I just... when you walked through the door with those ridiculous roses and that takeout bag, it felt like the first time in weeks I could actually breathe. And then we kept talking, and then we kept not talking, and…"
"And then your family walked in on us naked," Tommy finished dryly.
Buck groaned and covered his face with both hands. "God. The vase. The roses. I'm never living that down."
Tommy peeled Buck's hands away, grinning. "Hey. At least the roses were thornless. Small mercies."
Buck laughed, real, surprised, bubbling up from somewhere deep. "You're impossible."
"You're welcome." Tommy leaned down, brushing their noses together. "But seriously. You okay? After all that?"
Buck searched Tommy's face for a second, then nodded. "Yeah. I think I am. They were worried because they love me. And you stayed because you love me. And somehow... that makes the embarrassing parts feel smaller."
Tommy's eyes went soft. "I do love you, you know."
Buck's breath caught. They hadn't said it like this, not out loud, not since they'd started again. Not since before everything went to hell.
"I love you too," Buck whispered. "Even when you're holding a vase like it's tactical gear."
Tommy laughed under his breath, then closed the distance.
The kiss started slow, gentle, almost careful, like they were still testing the edges of this new-old thing between them. But then Buck's hand slid to the back of Tommy's neck, fingers threading into short hair, and Tommy made a low sound in his throat that sent heat curling through Buck's chest.
The kiss deepened. Tongues sliding, breaths mingling, bodies shifting closer until there was no space left. Tommy's hand found Buck's hip, thumb stroking a sensitive spot there. Buck arched into the touch, a quiet moan slipping free.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Tommy smiled against Buck's mouth."Still think the quiet's better alone?"
Buck shook his head, eyes closed. "No. Definitely not."
Tommy kissed him again, quick, soft, then settled back down, tucking himself against Buck's side. Buck wrapped both arms around him, one hand resting over Tommy's heart, feeling the steady thump-thump under his palm.
They didn't speak for a while. Just held each other, legs tangled, breathing in sync. The house was quiet. Buck pressed one last kiss on Tommy's temple.
"Stay," he murmured and tightened his arm around his new-old boyfriend.
"Nowhere else I'd rather be," Tommy replied.
They drifted off like that, wrapped up in each other, warm and safe.