Dandelions

Phillip Buckley

Edited 7/11/2025

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Phillip hadn't planned to stay long. Drop off a six-pack, make polite conversation, maybe ask how work was going. But somehow, he ended up sitting across from Tommy with an open beer in hand, watching the guy talk about flight routes like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Tommy didn't talk too much, and Phillip liked that about him. He had this calm personality, of someone who was sure in his skin. Most people tried too hard trying to impress the parents of their partners, but Tommy didn't. He just handed over a beer, nodded once, and sat down like he belonged there.

That alone already put him ahead of every boyfriend, girlfriend, or complicated situationship any of his children had ever brought home. The man didn't play up how impressive he was, trying to earn the approval of Margaret and him. He just was. Maybe that's what Phillip liked most — the normalcy. The fact that his son's life, for once, seemed steady.

The age difference had thrown him at first. Seven years sounded like a lot when you said it out loud. Then he'd seen the way Tommy looked at Buck, like he was the sun he couldn't help but orbit. And Buck, for all his chaos, mirrored it right back. After that, the number stopped mattering.

Tommy leaned forward suddenly, a grin spreading across his face. "There's a fight in Vegas coming up. Eddie can't make it, but you should come with me. It's right before your flight back to Pennsylvania."

It took Phillip a second to process that. Nobody ever invited him anywhere just for the sake of it. Not his coworkers, not even his children — though he most likely earned that. "Yeah," he smiled softly, touched by the gesture. "I'd like that."

Tommy looked delighted. "Great! I'll book the chopper."

Of course it was a helicopter. Phillip couldn't even pretend to be surprised. It was always something with Tommy — a firefighter pilot, a veteran, soon to be the captain of the 217. The man collected titles the way Margaret collected church bulletins, and somehow managed to stay humble about all of them.

Phillip could already picture what came next. Margaret, smiling politely over her teacup, waiting for just the right opening before mentioning their son — the fire captain — and his fiancé, the pilot. The women at her club would eat it up, nodding with that mix of admiration and envy that Margaret would relish.

And honestly, Phillip couldn't blame her. He was proud too. Maybe he didn't say it out loud as easily as she did, but watching Buck build the kind of life he had — one full of purpose, courage, and now love — felt like its own victory.

He took another sip of his beer, letting the pride settle under his ribs. The memory of that phone call still played clear in his mind — Buck's voice a little unsteady, breathless with excitement as he said the words I made Captain. Margaret had gone quiet for a moment before the tears came, pride spilling out faster than her words could form. Phillip had just stood there, phone pressed to his ear, trying to swallow the lump that rose in his throat.

He'd managed only a simple, "We'll be there," because anything more might've cracked his voice. Even now, the thought of it filled him with the same mix of awe and disbelief. Buck had worked for this, fought for it, and somehow the kid they'd once worried over had turned himself into a man they couldn't be prouder of.

He was still smiling at the memory when a loud thud snapped him out of it. Then a quiet curse. Buck stood in the doorway, rubbing his forehead like a man who'd just lost a fight with a doorframe.

Tommy broke first, laughter spilling out before he could stop it. Phillip followed without hesitation. Some things never changed. His son, for all his athleticism and experience as a firefighter, could be so clumsy at times.

Buck groaned, bright red from embarrassment and tried to glare them into silence. "You're both awful."

Phillip raised his beer in mock salute. "Still have the hardest head in the family, glad to see it hasn't dulled."

That earned him pout from his son, and another laugh from Tommy.

For a moment, Phillip just watched the scene before him. His grown son pouting like a kid again, as Tommy bent over laughing. It was then that he felt it hit him all at once. Pride, love, and peace, all of it tangled together in one normal moment.

At the same time, from the hallway, Buck stood frozen watching his dad and fiancé interact. It was the dream set up, straight out of a Hallmark movie. His dad and his fiancé getting along, laughing over something stupid, and finding common ground. It was perfect. Except for the small detail that they were bonding over a trip to Vegas.

A trip that didn't include him.

He stood there, beer in hand, a fresh bruise forming on his forehead, trying to process how he'd lost both his dignity and his spot on the guest list in the span of thirty seconds. Tommy and his dad were already laughing like they'd known each other for years, probably planning nights over blackjack tables, while Buck just stood there, wondering when exactly he'd become the punchline.

Tommy had mostly stopped laughing by the time he crossed the room, though a few chuckles still slipped out. "How's your head?" he asked, brushing a kiss to the spot Buck had walked into. His lips lingered just long enough to make Buck's ears burn. "I'll get you some ice before it bruises."

"Thanks," Buck said, voice coming out a little higher than he meant.

And then Tommy was gone, heading toward the kitchen and leaving him alone with his dad — in his own living room, which somehow didn't feel like it anymore. Phillip looked a little unsure, glancing around like he didn't know what to do or say.

He gave the couch cushion beside him a small pat. Buck hesitated, just long enough to make it weird, then sat down. "Sorry about that," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sometimes I forget how doors work."

"You've always been a little clumsy," Phillip chuckled. That got them both laughing, the tension breaking for a moment. Then Phillip shifted closer, clearing his throat. "I know I wasn't always the father you needed," he said carefully. "But I want you to know I'm proud of the man you've become. Really proud, son."

Buck blinked, once, twice, as if his brain needed time to catch up. He'd spent years wishing to hear those words from his dad and had stopped expecting them somewhere along the way. Hearing them now hit him like a punch to the gut.

He reached out, catching his dad's hand and giving it a small squeeze. "That means a lot," he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Phillip nodded, his thumb brushed over Buck's knuckles before he let go.

Tommy came back a minute later with ice wrapped in a dish towel and a grin. He slipped onto the couch beside Buck and launched straight into a story about a car show he'd gone to with Eddie, complete with an awful impression of Eds' southern drawl, all while gently pressing the ice on Buck's forehead.

Somehow, in the middle of all that, he pulled Phillip in too — asking for his opinion on some rebuilt V8, as if they'd been talking cars for years. Buck leaned against his fiancé, just watching the two of them go back and forth.

Later that week, when Phillip stood in the crowd beside Maddie and Margaret, watching Bobby hand Buck his captain's badge, Buck looked out and saw them all together. There'd been so many wrong turns, so many times it could've gone differently. But for somehow, it had all turned out all right, and Philip could not be more grateful if he tried.