BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM, ᵉᵛᵃⁿ ᵇᵘᶜᵏˡᵉʸ

057

The quiet hum of the hospital seemed louder than usual--ventilators, monitors, the low shuffle of nurses' shoes across the sterile floor. Buck stood in the ICU doorway, his jaw tight, his hands gripping the frame as if it were the only thing keeping him upright. Sarah sat at Madison's bedside, her small, fragile, hand wrapped around her best friend's, whispering things only Madison would ever know. Buck swallowed hard before stepping back.

He caught Bobby's eye in the hallway.

"Can you stay with her for a bit?" Buck asked, voice rough. He didn't need to explain who "her" meant. Bobby glanced through the glass at Sarah, then back at Buck. He gave a small nod, steady as always.

"Go," Bobby said softy.

Buck exhaled shakily, then turned toward the waiting room where Rylin was sitting, elbows on her knees, her hair pulled back in a messy bun that spoke of long hours and restless pacing. She looked up as soon as she felt him nearby. One look at his face was enough--her stomach dropped, her pulse quickened.

"What is it?" she asked immediately, standing, her voice already trembling.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he gestured for her to follow. They slipped outside, the late afternoon air cool against their overheated skin. For a moment, they just stood there in silence. Buck ran both hands over his face, then pressed them to the back of his neck, grounding himself.

"They can't get in touch with any of Madison's family." he finally said, his voice breaking around her name. "And because I'm her emergency contact... they're looking to me." He dragged in a breath, sharp and shallow. "The doctor... he doesn't think there's hope. He says... he says keeping her on life support is just prolonging it. She's becoming brain dead."

Rylin froze, her breath caught in her chest. She had prepared herself for bad news over the last week, but not this. Not the finality of it. Tears blurred her vision before she could even form words.

"And he's asking you to--?"

Buck's head dropped, a helpless nod. "Yeah. To make the call. Whether we keep her hooked up, or..." His voice cracked yet again, and he couldn't even finish his sentence. His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms.

Rylin's chest ached, her own tears slipping free. She stepped closer, as if being nearer to him could hold both of them together when they were coming apart at the seams.

"I don't know what to do," he admitted, his voice raw. "Every part of me--every damn part--knows the right thing is to let her go. To give her peace. But she's just a kid, Ry. Eighteen years old. She should be getting ready to move into college, or sneaking into concerts, or--hell, even just hanging out with Ravi and her friends. She shouldn't be..." He shook his head, choking on the words.

Rylin reached out for his arm, fingers curling around the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "You don't have to carry this alone."

His eyes found hers then, shining and wet, searching. "But it's on me. I'm the one they handed this to. If I make the call, if I tell them to pull the plug--what if I regret it every single day after? What if Sarah can't forgive me? What if I can't forgive myself?"

The weight of it all pressed down on her too, so heavy she could barely stand upright. She knew exactly what he meant. They had already lost so much--friends, family, pieces of themselves. Now this.

Rylin bit her lip, forcing herself to breathe past the grief clawing at her throat. "Buck, look at me," she whispered. He did. And in that moment, she saw not just the man who saved lives daily, not just the firefighter who threw himself into burning buildings, but the man terrified of letting go of a girl who had become his responsibility, his family.