Buddie: Partners in Fire

Chapter 71

Scene: In the car in front of Eddie's childhood house

Once Buck and Eddie pulled into the driveway of Eddie’s parents’ house, the tension in the car was palpable. The familiar suburban landscape of El Paso was quiet around them—the rows of neat houses, manicured lawns, and the slight rustle of leaves in the evening breeze gave the impression of calm, but inside the vehicle, it was anything but.

The house itself loomed ahead, a place once filled with childhood memories for Eddie, now weighed down by the ghosts of grief and unresolved family dynamics. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden light over the driveway and the house’s pale stucco exterior. But even the sun light couldn’t soften the heaviness that had settled between the two men in the car. The engine was off, but neither of them moved to get out.

Eddie sat motionless in the passenger seat, staring blankly out the windshield at the familiar but suffocating sight of his childhood home. His hands rested on his knees, but his knuckles were white from the tight grip he had on his own legs, like he was holding himself together, keeping himself from falling apart. The afternoon had been a blur—his mother’s tears, his father’s solemn presence, the burial, the way every family member had offered him condolences as if those words could fill the cavernous hole left in his chest.

Buck, sitting beside him in the driver’s seat, could see all of this, even if Eddie wasn’t saying a word. He saw the way Eddie’s eyes were distant, lost in the swirl of emotions he wasn’t letting out. The exhaustion etched into the lines of his face wasn’t just from the physical toll of the day—it was the emotional weight of everything Eddie had carried with him for so long. The burden of being the dependable one, the strong one. The soldier. The father. The son. It was all crashing down on him at once, and Buck could see Eddie struggling to keep his head above water.

For a few minutes, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the faint ticking of the cooling engine and the occasional distant hum of traffic. Buck’s gaze flickered from Eddie’s tense profile to the house in front of them. It was the same house they had arrived at the day before, but it felt different now. The air around it seemed heavier, like even the building itself was weighted by the grief inside.

Buck shifted in his seat slightly, turning to face Eddie. He didn’t want to push him, but he also couldn’t sit there watching Eddie drown in silence.

Buck: “Hey,”

He spoke softly, his voice cutting through the thick quiet between them.

Buck: “Do you want to talk? Or we can just sit here for a bit if you need some time. Whatever you need.”

Eddie didn’t respond immediately. His eyes remained fixed ahead, unfocused, like he was seeing something far beyond the quiet street in front of them. His jaw tightened briefly, and Buck could see the subtle twitch in his cheek—the only outward sign of the storm brewing inside him. Eddie swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, as he blinked slowly, almost like he was trying to bring himself back to the present moment.

His fingers, which had been drumming softly on his thigh in a nervous rhythm, stilled. The action was one Buck recognized—a sign Eddie used to ground himself when the weight of everything threatened to overwhelm him. It was like Eddie was bracing himself, trying to find his footing before the emotional waves crashed over him again.

Finally, Eddie shook his head, his voice barely a whisper when he spoke.

Eddie: “I just… need a minute. I’ll be okay. Just give me a minute.”

His tone was low, almost apologetic, like he was ashamed for needing time, for not being the strong, composed version of himself that he usually projected to the world. But Buck knew better. He knew that Eddie didn’t have to be okay right now. That it was okay to fall apart, to not have all the answers. Buck nodded, his expression softening with understanding.

Buck: “Take all the time you need. We don’t have to go in yet.”

Buck reached over and placed a hand gently on Eddie’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything else, but the simple gesture of support spoke volumes. His thumb brushed lightly against Eddie’s shoulder blade in slow, soothing circles, as if trying to transmit a sense of calm through the touch alone.

For a long while, they just sat there. Eddie’s breathing was shallow at first, but gradually it began to even out, though Buck could still feel the tension in Eddie’s body, like he was holding everything inside by sheer force of will. Buck stayed silent, offering his quiet presence as a lifeline. He knew better than to push Eddie into talking before he was ready.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, Eddie’s shoulders slumped, a soft exhale escaping his lips. He turned his head slightly, just enough for Buck to see the exhaustion in his eyes, the vulnerability he rarely let anyone see.

Eddie: “Thank you…”

Eddie said quietly, his voice cracking just the tiniest bit.

Eddie: “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Buck’s heart ached at the rawness in Eddie’s words. He wanted to say something reassuring, to tell Eddie that he didn’t have to thank him, that he was here because he loved him. But instead, he just smiled softly and pulled Eddie into a hug.

It wasn’t rushed or forceful—it was slow and intentional, giving Eddie the space to lean into it if he wanted to. And Eddie didn’t hesitate. His arms wrapped around Buck tightly, gripping him like he was an anchor in a sea of chaos. Buck could feel the tension still lingering in Eddie’s frame, but it began to loosen as Eddie let himself melt into the embrace.

Buck rested his chin on Eddie’s shoulder, his hands continuing their gentle, soothing motions along Eddie’s back. He could feel Eddie’s ragged breathing against his neck, could hear the shaky exhale that followed, as if Eddie was finally allowing himself to let go of a small piece of the weight he was carrying.

Buck: “You’ve got this. I’m right here with you, no matter what.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. They just held each other in the fading light, the car now cast in the soft shadows of dusk. Eddie’s breath was warm against Buck’s skin, and Buck could feel the subtle tremble in Eddie’s body as he struggled to keep his emotions in check.

Finally, Eddie exhaled again, this time more steadily, though there was still an undercurrent of fragility in his voice when he spoke.

Eddie: “It’s just… it’s too much sometimes, you know? Being here. All of it.”

Buck nodded against Eddie’s shoulder, his arms tightening around him just a little.

Buck: “I know. But you don’t have to carry it all alone. I’m here.”

Eddie’s grip on Buck tightened briefly, a silent acknowledgment of the words. Then, slowly, he pulled back, just enough to meet Buck’s eyes. His gaze was softer now, less distant, like he was finally grounding himself in the present moment. The raw vulnerability in his expression made Buck’s heart ache, but there was also something else—a quiet strength, a determination to keep going despite the weight of it all.

Eddie: “Thank you, Buck. For being here.”

Buck smiled softly, his thumb brushing against Eddie’s cheek for a moment before he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Eddie’s lips. It wasn’t a kiss filled with urgency or passion—it was soft, tender, full of love and reassurance. It was a promise, unspoken but clear: 'I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.'

When they pulled back, Eddie looked a little more grounded, a little more present, though the exhaustion still lingered in his eyes.

Buck: “Ready?”

Eddie hesitated for a beat, then nodded.

Eddie: “Yeah, I think so.”

Together, they stepped out of the car and made their way to the front door, the weight of the day still heavy on their shoulders, but a little lighter now that they were facing it together.