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Chris POV
I am fifteen years old, which means I am old enough to know when I’m being ridiculous.
Unfortunately, knowing that doesn’t stop it from happening.
Dad parked outside Buck’s house like always, the truck engine ticking while he grabbed the container of arroz con pollo Pepa had sent over. I was already halfway out the door before he even unbuckled his seatbelt.
“Slow down,” Dad called after me.
“I’m walking normally,” I said, which would’ve sounded more believable if I wasn’t speed-walking with my crutches to Buck’s front door.
The door swung open before I knocked.
Usually that meant Buck had been watching for us through the peephole like a giant golden retriever with no dignity.
This time it wasn’t Buck.
It was some kid.
He's definitely not my age because he is younger, all skinny elbows and wary eyes. Brown hair falling into his face, oversized hoodie sleeves covering half his hands. He stared at me like I was the one trespassing.
“Oh,” I said.
“Oh,” he said back.
Then Buck appeared behind him carrying three plates and a bowl balanced against his chest. “Christopher! You’re here.”
Usually Buck said my name like I was the best surprise of his day.
Today it sounded distracted.
“Can you move, Theo?” Buck asked the kid gently.
Theo stepped aside. I rolled in without looking at him.
Dad came in behind me. “Need help?”
“No, no, I got it,” Buck said, already turning back toward the kitchen. “Theo, napkins are in the drawer by the fridge, remember?”
Remember.
Like Theo had already been here long enough to know where stuff was.
I stood by the table and crossed my arms. Not because I was annoyed. Because I needed somewhere to put them.
Dad set Tia Pepa’s container on the counter and gave me one quick glance. He always noticed too much.
I looked away first.
Buck’s place smelled like garlic and toasted bread. Usually that made everything feel warm and easy.
Usually Buck would ask me about school before I even sat down. Or if I’d beaten my latest video game level. Or if I wanted to help plate dinner because apparently I was the only person he trusted with “important cheese distribution.”
Tonight he was asking Theo if he liked pasta sauce chunky or smooth.
“I don’t know,” Theo muttered.
Buck smiled anyway. “Chunky it is.”
I stared at the salt shaker like it had personally offended me.
Dad sat beside me. Theo sat across from us. Buck moved around the kitchen, talking too much the way he always did when he was nervous.
“So, uh, Christopher you had a history presentation last week,” Buck said, setting food down. “I bet you crushed it.”
I shrugged. “It was fine.”
Buck blinked at me.
Normally I would’ve told him how my teacher said my slides were the best in class and how I improvised when the projector froze. I had prepared the story for him on the drive over.
Now I didn’t feel like sharing.
Dad took a bite of food and said nothing.
Traitor.
Theo picked at his pasta like he expected it to fight back.
Buck finally sat down, but instead of next to me like usual, he took the chair beside Theo.
Which was stupid to notice.
And stupid to care about.
I stabbed a piece of chicken so hard it slid off my fork.
Buck glanced over. “You okay, buddy?”
“Fine.”
One word answers. Mature. Casual. Completely normal.
Dad’s mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile.
The conversation limped along.
Buck asked Theo about the food again. Theo shrugged.
Buck asked if he wanted some new shoes or clothes. Theo shrugged again.
Buck asked me if I wanted more bread.
“No thanks.”
He frowned a little. “You sure?”
“I said no.”
Silence.
Even Theo looked up at that.
I wanted to rewind the last five seconds immediately.
Buck’s expression softened, worried instead of offended. Which somehow made it worse.
Dad set his fork down. “Chris, can you help me grab drinks?”
We already had drinks.
But I followed him to the kitchen anyway.
Once we were out of earshot, Dad leaned against the counter. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Christopher.”
I lowered my voice. “He didn’t even talk to me when we got here.”
Dad raised an eyebrow. “He greeted you.”
“He greeted everyone.”
Dad was quiet for a second. “Theo’s having a hard time.”
“I know.”
“He needs attention right now.”
“I know,” I snapped, then hated myself again. “I know that.”
Dad’s face gentled. “And you’re allowed to feel weird about it.”
“I don’t feel weird.”
“You’re pouting.”
“I am not pouting.”
“You absolutely are.”
I glared at him.
He smiled, because dads are terrible people.
Then he crouched slightly so we were eye level. “Buck cares about you. That doesn’t change because he’s helping someone else.”
I swallowed.
Because the thing was—I knew that.
But knowing something and feeling it are not always the same.
When we got back to the table, Buck was helping Theo twist pasta onto a fork.
I almost laughed because Theo looked deeply offended by the assistance.
Buck looked up the second I returned. “Hey. You disappeared.”
“Got drinks.”
“There’s already drinks.”
“Yeah.”
Dad coughed into his hand to hide a laugh.
I considered disowning him.
Buck studied me for a second, then stood and walked over. Before I could react, he rested a hand on my shoulder and squeezed.
“You want to help me with dessert later?” he asked quietly.
There it was.
The private Buck voice.
The one that meant he was paying attention.
I tried to stay cool. “Depends what dessert is.”
“Cookies.”
“Store-bought?”
He gasped. “How dare you.”
Despite myself, I smiled.
Buck’s whole face relaxed like he’d been waiting for that.
“Thought so,” he said.
Then he ruffled my hair.
I shoved his hand away because I am fifteen and practically an adult.
But I didn’t move from under it until he pulled back first.
Later, while Buck and I arranged cookies on a tray in the kitchen, Theo hovered near the doorway.
“You can come help too,” Buck said.
Theo shrugged.
Buck handed him the whipped cream anyway.
Theo took it.
I glanced at him. “Don’t mess it up.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I know how whipped cream works.”
“We’ll see.”
Buck looked between us slowly. “Are you two… bonding?”
“No,” we both said.
Buck grinned so hard it was embarrassing.
Dad, from the couch, called out, “Sounds promising!”
I groaned.
Theo rolled his eyes.
And for the first time all night, the house felt normal again.
-
Theo went home three days later.
Buck told us over text first.
THEO’S PARENTS GOT THINGS SORTED OUT. HE’S BACK WITH THEM.
Also he stole one of my forks. Respect.
Dad snorted when I read it out loud.
I did not smile.
Okay, maybe I smiled a little.
Not because Theo was gone.
Because everything was… settled.
That’s all.
By Friday, we were back at Buck’s loft for dinner.
And this time Buck opened the door before we even reached it.
“There’s my favorite Diaz!”
“Wow,” Dad said, stepping inside. “Thought I was your favorite.”
Buck grinned in passing. “You’re top five.”
I laughed so hard I nearly lost my balance.
Dad looked offended. “Top five?”
“Maybe six.”
“Disrespectful,” Dad muttered.
I grinned all the way to the kitchen.
Everything felt right again.
Buck had music playing too loud. There was something simmering on the stove. My usual chair was pulled out already, a soda waiting beside the plate.
Mine.
Obviously.
I sat down like a king reclaiming his throne.
Buck pointed a spoon at me. “Don’t get comfortable.”
“Too late.”
Dad dropped into his chair across from me. “You seem cheerful.”
“I’m always cheerful.”
Buck barked out a laugh. “That is a lie.”
“Wow,” I said, hand to chest. “Betrayed in my own home.”
Buck set a bowl in front of me. “Last I checked your home is in 4995 South Bedford Street, Los Angeles, California.”
I took a bite. “Then why do I know where you hide the good snacks?”
Dad groaned. “Because he enables you.”
“He loves me,” I corrected.
Buck reached over automatically and squeezed the back of my neck.
“Unfortunately.”
I tried to act annoyed, but I leaned into it for half a second before remembering I had dignity.
Dinner was loud in the best way.
Buck and I teamed up against Dad, which was easy because Dad was deeply mockable.
“You still type with one finger,” I told him.
“I do not.”
“You absolutely do,” Buck said. “I’ve seen it.”
“It’s efficient.”
“It’s prehistoric,” I said.
Dad glared at both of us. “I am surrounded by traitors.”
Buck high-fived me across the table.
I was still laughing when Dad suddenly got that look.
The one that meant trouble.
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “Interesting.”
“What?” I asked.
“You’re in a very good mood tonight.”
“I’m always in a good mood.”
Buck snorted into his drink.
Dad ignored him. “Funny how this happened right after Theo went home.”
I froze.
Buck froze.
Even the stove seemed quieter.
Dad continued, far too calm. “Almost like someone was jealous.”
“I was not jealous,” I said immediately.
“Christopher—”
“I wasn’t.”
Buck lifted both hands. “Okay, hey, nobody has to—”
Dad pointed at me. “You sulked for an entire dinner.”
“I was tired.”
“You stabbed chicken like it insulted your family.”
“It was slippery.”
Buck made a strangled noise that might’ve been laughter.
I turned on him. “Don’t.”
He pressed his lips together, failing miserably.
Dad looked delighted now. “And then you asked if we could go home early.”
“I had homework.”
“You did not.”
“I could have.”
I crossed my arms. “I was not jealous.”
Dad nodded seriously. “So you’d be perfectly fine if Buck invited Theo over again next week?”
“Yes.”
Too fast.
Buck wheezed.
I glared at everyone equally.
Dad smiled that smug parent smile. “Thought so.”
I hated when he was right.
Mostly because he usually was.
Buck stood and came around the table, crouching beside my chair. His expression had gone soft in that way that made it impossible to stay defensive.
“Hey,” he said quietly.
“I’m fine.”
“I know. But I’m sorry if you felt ignored.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“I know that too.”
I looked at the table.
He nudged my knee. “Theo needed help. But that didn’t mean I forgot about you.”
“I know.”
There it was again—that annoying thing where I knew something, but feelings didn’t listen.
Buck must’ve seen it on my face because he smiled gently.
“You’re stuck with me, kid.”
I rolled my eyes. “That sounds threatening.”
“It’s a promise.”
He pulled me into a quick side hug before I could dodge.
I pretended to struggle.
I did not actually struggle.
Dad watched us with that soft look he got sometimes when he thought no one noticed.
Then he ruined it by saying, “So dramatic. Both of you.”
Buck pointed at him without letting go of me. “Top seven.”
“Unbelievable,” Dad muttered.
I laughed into Buck’s shoulder.
And just like that, everything really was okay.
-
Buck POV
Christopher had finally gone to shower, which meant the house was quiet in that rare, golden way.
Quiet except for Eddie in my kitchen, sleeves rolled up, washing dishes I had specifically told him to leave alone.
“You know,” I said, leaning against the counter, “when I said make yourself at home, I didn’t mean steal my chores.”
Eddie glanced over his shoulder. “You’re welcome.”
“You’re scrubbing aggressively. Should I be concerned?”
“I’m thinking.”
“That usually does concern me.”
He snorted softly.
God, I loved making him laugh. Even the tiny ones. Especially the tiny ones.
I moved beside him and bumped our shoulders together. “What’re you thinking about?”
He handed me a towel without looking, because apparently I was now assigned drying duty in my own house.
“Chris,” he said simply.
My chest warmed immediately. “He okay?”
“He’s fine.” Eddie smiled to himself. “Embarrassed, mostly.”
I grinned. “That was kind of mean, exposing him like that.”
“You loved it.”
“I did.”
“You were trying not to laugh.”
“I failed.”
“You always fail.”
I set a dry plate down dramatically. “Wow. I come into this conversation vulnerable and open, and you attack me.”
Eddie turned off the water and faced me fully now, hands damp, expression soft.
“You know what I mean.”
I did.
Chris being jealous shouldn’t have made me so emotional, but it had.
Not because I wanted him upset.
Because somewhere in that stubborn teenage heart of his, I mattered enough to miss.
Enough to notice.
Enough to want.
“He really thought I forgot about him,” I admitted quietly.
Eddie’s face gentled. “He knew you didn’t.”
“That’s not what it felt like.”
“Yeah.” Eddie stepped closer. “He’s fifteen, Buck.”
“I know.”
“He’s trying so hard to be grown up that sometimes he forgets he’s still allowed to need people.”
That hit me right in the center of my chest.
I looked toward the hallway where Chris had disappeared earlier.
“I never want him to think he has to earn attention.”
“He doesn’t think that.”
“How do you know?”
Eddie smiled, small and sure. “Because he expects yours automatically.”
I blinked.
“That’s… terrifyingly sweet.”
“It is.”
“He really does, doesn’t he?”
“He walks in here like he is the one who bought the house.”
I laughed. “Honestly, fair.”
Eddie leaned his hip against the counter beside me. “You set his plate before he even got here.”
“I always do.”
“I know.”
I shrugged. “He likes the blue plate.”
“You learned that three years ago.”
“It matters.”
“It does.”
There was something in Eddie’s voice then—quiet, full, fond.
I looked at him carefully. “What?”
He shook his head.
“Nope. Tell me.”
“You make things steady.”
The room went still.
Even after all this time, Eddie could say one simple sentence and knock the air out of me.
“I burn toast twice a week,” I said weakly.
He smiled. “And yet.”
I set the towel down.
“Eddie Diaz,” I said, stepping between his knees where he leaned against the counter, “are you being nice to me on purpose?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s suspicious.”
He slid his hands to my waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.
It was.
“You love being needed,” he said.
“I do.”
“You love taking care of people.”
“I do.”
“You especially love taking care of me and my kid.”
I swallowed.
“Yeah,” I said softly. “I really do.”
Eddie’s thumb brushed once against my side.
“I know.”
There was too much tenderness in his face. It made me feel seventeen and thirty-four all at once.
“So,” I said, because feelings required deflection, “when are you gonna admit I’m Chris’s favorite?”
He barked out a laugh. “Never.”
“He laughed at all my jokes tonight.”
“He laughs out of pity.”
“He sided with me against you.”
“He likes chaos.”
“He called me home.”
That one slipped out before I could stop it.
Eddie’s expression changed instantly.
Gentler somehow.
Warmer.
“He did,” Eddie said.
I stared at the floor suddenly because wow, vulnerable moment.
Then fingers hooked under my chin and tipped my face back up.
“You know what else?” Eddie asked.
“What?”
“You are.”
I frowned. “I am what?”
“Home.”
And because I am only human, I kissed him immediately.
He laughed against my mouth.
“Was that smooth enough for you?” he murmured.
“No,” I said, kissing him again. “Do it slower this time.”
From the hallway, Chris yelled, “I CAN HEAR YOU BEING GROSS.”
We both jumped apart.
Eddie covered his face.
I shouted back, “GO TO BED!”
“I LIVE HERE HALF THE TIME!”
“You pay no rent!”
“TYRANT!”
Eddie was laughing so hard he had to hold onto the counter.
I pointed at the hallway. “Your son is rude.”
“Our son is rude,” Eddie corrected automatically.
Silence.
We both froze.
Then slowly looked at each other.
Eddie’s eyes widened.
My heart did something medically concerning.
Chris yelled again, “WHY IS IT QUIET NOW?”
Neither of us answered.
I was too busy smiling so hard my face hurt.