Title: When All Our Lies Fall Apart
Fandom: 9-1-1
Genre: Post-canon, Angst
Pairing: Gen
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Major Character Death (canon-compliant), Angst, Character bashing,
Author Note: I’d apologize, but I wouldn’t mean it. I have issues with season 8, and this is how I’m dealing with it. A sequel is planned for another bingo prompt, which should be a little less… whatever this is. Also, thank you to DJQ and LH for providing some early feedback. It’s appreciated.
Timeline: Post Season 8 (including season 8 spoilers)
Challenge: Just Write Create Your Own Bingo – Round 2. Bad Things Happen, Prompt: Lies
Word Count: ~11,300
Summary: Buck needs to say goodbye.

Act I. A Little Misdirection

Buck’s Uber left him a half block from the café where he was meeting Athena. It was all Ubers for the final stage of his exit plan; he wasn’t giving anyone any information to track him, and that included his new vehicle or license plate number.

He wasn’t anticipating that Athena was going to be a problem, but there was no point in giving her information just to ask her to keep it from everyone else. It was easier to keep it clean and put as little pressure on her as possible.

When he’d been making his plans over the last couple of weeks, as odd as it seemed, he knew the goodbye with Athena was going to be the hardest, which was why that’s where he was starting.

By all accounts, it should be Eddie and Christopher ripping his heart out, but Buck had been without Chris in his life for quite a while. He’d mourned that particular loss as Eddie made one weird decision after another, cutting Buck out in the process. Along the way, he’d come to realize the closeness he thought he had with Eddie was a figment of his own imagination.

That had been the brutal part of his self-reflection after Bobby’s death—the realization that too much of his close relationships weren’t based on anything real. Or they were projections of what he wanted them to be. Too much was built on lies and self-delusion, and pulling those little lies away showed how little substance was left.

One relationship that was close to what it seemed to be was his relationship with Athena.

He entered the café, and she was already watching him. No doubt having clocked him walking down the street. The café made great coffee, but they tended to be rather quiet in the early afternoons due to the location, so it was a good time to meet if they wanted a little solitude.

He placed an order for a large latte, then slid into the chair across the table from her, offering her a smile. “Hey, Athena.”

“Buckaroo,” she replied, her smile still a little brittle. “How are you doing, kiddo?”

Buck smiled wanly. She was the only person of those connected to the 118 who asked and actually wanted a real answer, yet she was the person in more need than Buck, so he wasn’t inclined to offer much of the truth. He offered his hand across the table, and she took it readily, the two of them holding hands amidst the detritus of Athena’s first cup of coffee.

“Part of me is tempted to beat around the bush because in this moment, I feel like all the things I’m accused of being…” He frowned, trying to collect his thoughts.

Her eyebrows went up. “You don’t need to wordsmith yourself, baby. You’ve never needed that with me. Just say it.”

“I’m not doing well,” he said bluntly.

Athena’s expression twisted with something that was both grief and anger and other things Buck couldn’t possibly understand. Then she smiled sadly. “I know. And I’m sorry I haven’t been able to—”

“No, Athena. I wasn’t expecting you to prop me up.” He reached out with his other hand, enfolding hers with both of his, squeezing firmly. “I never expected that. But you also never told me to stop thinking about Bobby or that I was being selfish for being sad or any of the other things I’ve heard.”

“Who said that?”

“Who hasn’t? But that’s not even the point. I can’t breathe sometimes for how much it hurts, and there’s no room for me to express it. I’m not asking you to let me fall apart all over you, but I need room to fall apart somewhere. Every time I drift a little too far—” He forced himself to stop, shaking his head. “It’s not even about recriminations, though sometimes I’m so angry at all of them it feels like yet another reason why I’m choking all the time.”

“Buck… What’s happened? What do I need to need to do?”

He squeezed her hands a little tighter. “There’s nothing for you to do. In some ways, this is my fault. Every freaking time something goes sideways for me emotionally, I get told I’m making it about myself. Or that I’m selfish. Or any number of other things that equate to we don’t want to deal with how you’re feeling.” He gave her a wan smile. “Except I can’t move forward until I deal with losing Bobby.” He blew out a shaky breath. “Every time I bring him up, it’s like they have to make it a competition. Hen and Chim knew him longer, Eddie has a son who misses Bobby, and a child’s grief is more important—or whatever point Eddie is trying to make when he shuts me down by mentioning Chris.”

Athena shook her head. “By those metrics, Hen and Chimney have a right to a larger share of grief than I do, correct? They’ve known Bobby longer, after all. It’s an absurd comparison to measure grief by duration of association. He was my husband and your father, and I should have been pulling you closer along with May and Harry, and I’m sorry that I didn’t.”

In point of fact, in many ways, she’d cut him out, but he wasn’t interested in playing the blame game with Athena. Of everyone, he understood why she might have been too tangled up in her own grief to react well. And he could also see why his grief might have been too hard for her to deal with, even if she was the one person he wanted to be closer to in the last couple of weeks. He hadn’t been completely cut off from her, but she’d definitely withdrawn in ways he hadn’t expected.

Buck shook his head. “I’m not faulting you, Athena. Please know this isn’t about that. You’re the only person I would remotely consider changing my plans for. But I really don’t think you’re going to ask, and I need to get out of here.”

Her eyes slid shut, and she took a deep breath, holding on tightly to Buck’s hands. “You’re leaving.”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

Her gaze snapped to his. “Tonight.”

“I’m saying goodbye to Hen next, then Chim, then Eddie, then I’ll be leaving.” He’d had beers and wings with some of the other guys from the station last night. He hadn’t explicitly said he was leaving, but they knew. Jones fucking hugged him goodbye, and they weren’t the hugging sort.

“For good?”

He lifted one shoulder. “That’s not the plan.” Hopefully, his only major lie. To her, anyway. “I’m leaving for now. I’m leaving until I can think about Bobby without feeling like I’m falling apart.”

“Where will you go?”

Buck took a deep breath. “I spent years traveling, and despite it being a big part of my past, the only person who has ever really been interested in those years was Bobby. He’s the only person close to me who ever asked me about the places I’d been or the jobs I’d had. I’m going to fly back East to start, check out Bobby’s old stomping grounds, get a new car, then hit the road, travel a little, try to grieve when the emotions come since there won’t be anyone there to tell me I’m making it all about myself again.”

“Oh, Buck.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not. You’re leaving your home, your family.”

“I think my family was you and Bobby, and I was just lying to myself about the rest.”

“Sweetheart, please don’t think like that.”

“Maybe I’ll feel less bitter in a few weeks, but I’m not there right now.”

She stared at him for a long time. “Part of me wants you to stay, but Lord, part of me wants to go with you.”

“I’m turning my cellphone off as soon as I make my last visit. I figure I’ll eventually change my cellphone number entirely. I’m not giving the new number to anyone but you. Everyone else will have to contact me via email. If you decide you’d benefit from some therapeutic time away, call me. There will always be room for you, Athena, whether it’s for a couple of days or a couple of months.”

“What about your job?”

“I just left a meeting with Alonzo. I’ve resigned from the LAFD. If Chimney asks, Alonzo is going to back me up on saying that the amount of leave I wanted was indefinite, which is why he couldn’t grant it, but the LAFD is available to me whenever I want to reapply.”

Athena stared at him for a long time. “You really don’t plan to come back, do you?”

“I’m not looking that far ahead right now. I just need to get away because I feel like I’m coming out of my skin here. I’m giving myself room to make plans, change plans, and change them again. But I can’t see myself wanting to step back into the destructive patterns I’ve built here. I certainly can’t see me working for Chimney.”

“Destructive patterns,” she repeated. “What in the world did I miss?”

“I don’t want to burden you with this, Athena. I just wanted to say goodbye. To you first before I make the rounds. I’m hoping everyone will take my trip with some grace, but I’m not actually expecting it. No doubt they’ll assume I’m being selfish.”

“I’m not going to try to stop you from leaving, baby, but I’d really like to know what it is you see as so wrong in your relationships that you feel like you have to shut off your phone on the way out the door and leave everyone with just email as a way to contact you.”

“Athena, some other time, okay? Ask me again when we’re both in a better place if you really want to know. I don’t want to tell you just because I’m angry, and I’m not sure what good it would do you anyway.”

“Buck.” She looked so sad that he wanted to change his mind, throw his plans out the window. She squeezed his hands. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” He wanted to apologize for not being there for her in the days ahead, but truth be told, no one had allowed him to be there to support them. His grief could perhaps have been somewhat mitigated if he’d been helpful to anyone else. Those were choices everyone had made on his behalf. Even Athena, to a degree. He didn’t fault her for going deep in her grief, but it would be false for them to pretend now that he was vital to her support system. The days after Bobby’s death had proven that he wasn’t.

She blinked away tears and admitted, “It hasn’t been fair of me, but seeing you reminds me of Bobby at times when it’s the hardest to deal with. Running from that wasn’t fair to either of us. I’m so sorry.”

He just shook his head. He understood, but it didn’t make it easier for him to cope.

After they’d finished their coffees, they hugged on the sidewalk as Buck’s Uber pulled up, and he was certain she was the only tie he was tempted to stay for, but their grief didn’t exist well in the same space yet. Maybe someday.

“I love you, Athena, and whenever you’re ready for a break…”

“And whenever you’re ready to come home,” she countered.

He offered her a sad smile and climbed into the Uber.

Act II. Where Truth and Lies Are Irrelevant

Despite the fact that Buck had scheduled a time to drop by, Hen wasn’t home. Karen was, however.

Her smile was sincere and her hug warm as she let Buck into the house. “Sorry Hen isn’t here. She got hung up over at Chimney’s, but she should be on her way back soon. The kids are with friends today. Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, I…” He blew out a breath. “My window is a little short, and I was headed over to Chim and Maddie’s next.”

“Oh?”

“I’m just doing the rounds.” He let Karen show him into the living room.

“Is everything okay? How goes the apartment hunting?”

“On hold. I’m headed out of town for a while.”

Karen frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I need some time away. Maybe retrace some of my travels from when I was younger.” He hesitated. “Bobby and I used to talk about all the places I’d been, and he even suggested some fun places I’d missed in my journeys.”

“Oh, Buck.” Karen looked like she actually got it. Maybe she did. “They aren’t giving you any room to grieve, are they?”

Buck lifted one shoulder.

“I’ve tried to tell Hen that this family can’t control how people grieve, and they’re being a little callous.” She stopped, lips pursed. “Is there anything you need?”

“No, I just wanted to head out on my trip on good terms, but I didn’t want there to be an emotional bloodletting or a going away thing or whatever the in-between might be. I just wanted to say goodbye to everyone and go.”

“I understand.”

At that moment, Hen walked in. “Hi. Sorry. I got hung up with little Bobby.”

Buck flinched internally at the name.

She sat next to Karen. “So, what’d you need?”

“I don’t need anything.” He repeated in briefer terms what he’d already shared with Karen, and Hen’s expression went stony.

“You’re running away?”

“Hen!” Karen protested.

Buck began tapping away on his phone. The Uber was only three minutes out. He loved how immediately available Ubers tended to be in many parts of LA.

“No, seriously,” Hen waved Karen off. “Chim gets the captaincy, and you know he’s going to be relying on all of us, and you just decide to mess with him?”

Karen grabbed Hen’s arm, as if she could rein in her spouse.

“I see how it is.” Buck got to his feet. “This has nothing to do with Chimney, even though his first act as captain was to deny me the right to transfer. I know he meant well with his little speech about family, but coming across as overbearing at that time wasn’t great. And denying me what I need to move on isn’t helpful, and—”

“You know, we knew Bobby longer than you!” Hen spat.

Buck sighed. “Karen, thanks for having me over. You have my email.” He looked right at Hen. “My decisions are about me and have nothing to do with Chimney or you. That you turned my need to grieve my father figure in private into some sort of contest over who knew him longer is honestly disgusting, and I feel like I don’t even know you. Please don’t use the who knew him longer line on Athena, because that’s beyond gross and full on into the kind of narcissism I didn’t even know you were capable of.”

Hen looked taken aback and stricken, like she’d suddenly had some epiphany about her words or behavior.

“Please don’t email me. Goodbye.” He nodded to Hen and left the house.

He was on the sidewalk, headed down a half block where he’d designated the pickup point, when he heard Hen calling him.

“Buck!”

“I have nothing to say, Hen.” He kept walking until he was right in front of the house he’d designated for his driver to find him at.

She caught up to him and grabbed his arm. He jerked away from her, leaving her looking stunned.

“Considering the level of hostility you’ve displayed towards me,” he spat, “you’ve got some fucking nerve putting your hands on me.”

Karen was coming down the sidewalk at a slower pace, but she was close enough to have heard the exchange, and she looked like she wanted to cry.

“Buck, stop.” Hen held out her hands. “I don’t have any idea what’s going on.”

“And you’re not going to now, considering the hostility you approached me with. You lost any chance of having a conversation with me about a simple fucking road trip when you decided this was all about Chimney, and that your personal right to grief took precedence over literally anything else.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

The Uber pulled up.

“I really have no interest in revisiting this. Don’t text me, don’t email me.” He climbed into the car and let the Uber take him to Chim and Maddie.

Act III. Where Truth and Lies Feel the Same

Chimney was standing in the driveway, arms crossed over his chest, when Buck’s Uber pulled up. “Are you trying to sabotage me?” he asked the minute Buck was out of the car. Buck had a recording going since he started to pull up. It was questionable on the legal front, but they were outside, plus Chim and Maddie had signs up about the outdoor surveillance system. Besides, he didn’t want the recording for any legal purposes. It was a backup in case their mutual “friends” decided to believe Chim’s narrative over Buck’s.

“Yes, me taking a road trip to grieve has everything to do with you, Chimney,” Buck replied, voice heavy with sarcasm.

Chim scowled. “You know you have more certifications than anyone else on shift, and you’re taking leave when I’ve barely taken over as captain?”

“What do my certifications have to do with anything? Are you seriously implying that I should put off a leave of absence after a death in the family because I’ve taken more freaking classes than the rest of the shift?”

“You owe me some fucking loyalty, Buck!”

“Oh, do I?” Buck asked softly. “Look, it’s done. You can huff and puff and get hostile if you want, but it is what it is. I’m taking a freaking break. You’d think my friends and family would be supportive instead of acting like raging assholes about it, but here we are.”

Chim continued to glare. “I don’t have to let you return to the 118.”

Buck rolled his eyes. “Do try to remember that I tried to transfer out of the 118 already, and you are the one who denied me. So let’s not pretend like I’ll be crushed if you don’t let me come back.”

Before Chim could say anything else, Maddie’s voice, whisper soft, cut across the driveway like a knife. “Chim, please go inside. I need to speak to my brother.”

Chim gestured to Buck. “He’s trying to sabotage me!”

“I sincerely doubt that’s the motivation, but I’ll talk to Evan. Give us a minute.”

Chim stomped off, and Maddie gestured for Buck to join her, crossing into the backyard to sit at the patio table.

“So, you’re taking another road trip,” she said slowly.

“Could have been nothing more than a long vacation, except everyone is acting like raging douchebags about it, so I do think it reveals some issues that will need to be addressed when I get back.”

She shot him a chastising look. “Chimney is new to being captain, and he needs everyone’s support, Evan.”

“Buck,” he bit out so harshly, she actually jerked. “I am sick of you ignoring my wishes on the matter of my name. This is the last time I’ll remind you, and what you do going forward will be duly noted, Maddie.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m sick of my needs being backburnered until everyone else gets their every-single-want in order. You expect me to put off my grief until Chim is settled as captain? How about no. But my grief is such a big fucking inconvenience for everyone, so I’ll just take a vacation and figure out how to deal with it on my own.”

“Buck,” she sighed. “No one knows how to help you.”

“No one even talks to me, so I’m not buying it. In any case, don’t expect me to prioritize Chimney over myself for some unfathomable reason.”

“He’s your brother-in-law.”

“Which means…what? His career ambitions take precedence over my personal life? I don’t think so. He and I have never been that close. Get Hen to make that sacrifice.”

“Buck, come on.”

“Nope. Not talking me out of this, Maddie. I already talked to Alonzo since Chimney would have outright denied me leave, and I knew that. It’s done.” He cocked his head to the side. “It’s weird what too much time wallowing in grief with nothing but introspection will do for you. I’m not sure if I’m seeing clearer or less clearly or what, but certainly my perspective has changed. Definitely my give a fuck has broken. I need some time on my own to get my head back together.”

“Buck, let us help.” Her tone was saccharine and set his teeth on edge.

“You just said you couldn’t figure out how to help, not that anyone tried. But it’s so monumental a task that everyone buckled under just the concept of it, so I think it’s best if I sort myself out, don’t you?” The one thing that had become clearest to him as he’d sat and thought and torn apart the years of monuments to personal delusion was that he saw everyone close to him through rose colored glasses. But no one so much as Maddie. Maddie was the perfect sister who had raised him and practically been his mother, who had given him everything.

Tear away the blinders, and she was just a desperate teenager, doing the bare minimum for the annoying seven-year-old who she barely saw again after she ran away from home like her panties were on fire right after high school graduation, which was a full month before Buck turned eight. If she’d loved him the way she claimed to, she’d have called or come home a bit more than she had. The only reason he’d had contact with her as a teenager was because he’d inserted himself back into her life once he’d gotten a driver’s license. He’d been all up in his delusions even then and assumed he’d been wanted.

Buck had Maddie on a pedestal because she was so much better than anything else in his life, and she’d been leveraging his high opinion of her since. But, in truth, there was no foundation for their relationship. Nothing. It had all the maturity of a seven-year-old’s love for his favorite toy.

He knew Maddie had been through the wars with Doug, but Maddie’s abuse didn’t change whether or not Maddie and Buck knew each other today. They effectively got to know each other as adults, and Buck had been subsuming his needs for Maddie’s since the moment she broke back into his life, full of lies and pretense and double standards.

“Is there anything I can say to at least get you to delay this trip?” Maddie said on a sigh.

“Is that the way grief works?” Buck asked softly. “You just put it on hold until it’s convenient for other people?”

“You can work through it without leaving. We’ll get you some help.”

He scoffed. “I’d like to say goodbye to Jee. I need to get to the airport soon, and I still need to stop in and see Eddie.”

She primly straightened her clothes. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to see Jee, considering you’re obviously emotionally unwell right now.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just agree to stay a few extra days, have dinner with us, and we’ll sort something out, Buck.”

“Are you making seeing my niece transactional, Maddie?” he asked softly.

“Buck…” Her tone was pure patronization.

“I can’t see her if I leave now, but if I stay for dinner and do what you want, I can see her?”

“I just think it’s better that you not see Jee-Yun if you’re going to be out of town for a while.”

“So, you’re saying anytime I’m going on vacation, I’m cut off from my niblings?” he asked incredulously.

She opened her mouth and then closed it with an audible clack. “Buck.”

“Goodbye, Maddie. I’m pretty furious that you’re not letting me say goodbye to Jee, so don’t call me. You’d better confine yourself to email for a while. Otherwise, I’ll block your number.” He’d already mentally reconciled himself that it was unlikely he’d ever get to know his nephew, but it looked like Maddie was going to ensure his relationship with Jee was in tatters. He needed to not get close to kids who weren’t his own anymore because their shitty parents were an unending source of heartbreak.

Looking alarmed, she got to her feet as he stepped back from the table. “Buck.”

“No, I get it. You assumed I’d just do whatever you said because you’re used to me falling in line, but I already made it clear this trip is happening, and I’m not being talked down because I’m not hysterical. And right now I’m honestly more furious with you than I ever have been, so it’s not good for me to be here.” He started to walk away.

“Buck!”

He kept walking, letting his strides lengthen as he hit the street.

He heard a last-ditch, “Evan!” but unless she planned to jog, she had no hope of catching him when he walked at a full stride.

Once he’d rounded the end of the block, he ordered another Uber. Maybe he should have rented a damn car for this.

Act IV. The 98th Act, A True Tragedy of Lies and Deception

Eddie opened the door before Buck could even knock. “If I’d known why you wanted to come over today, I wouldn’t have agreed.”

“Charming. Then I don’t need to talk to you at all. I’ll just say goodbye to Chris and head out.”

Eddie’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he looked like he’d deny Buck’s request, but then Chris was there, smiling. “Buck!”

Buck smiled. “Hey, buddy.”

Chris moved around Eddie for a teenager version of a hug. Buck missed the days when Chris hugged with all his energy and his whole body. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m headed out on a little road trip and wanted to drop by and see you before I leave.”

“A road trip? For what?” Chris waved him in, apparently trying to have some manners Eddie didn’t seem to possess anymore. They wound up in the living room. “Where are you going?”

“Remember how I’d told you about all the places I’d been in my journeys after I left Pennsylvania?”

Chris nodded.

“Bobby and I also used to talk about that a lot.” Buck smiled sadly, and Chris moved a little closer and squeezed Buck’s hand. “He used to even suggest fun things I’d missed or other things to do if I ever decided to do another road trip one day.”

Chris smiled, though it was equal parts understanding and sadness. “You’re going to go say goodbye to Bobby.”

“Yeah, kiddo, I am.”

Christopher curled into his side, hugging him around his middle. “That’s a really good idea; I’m glad you thought of it. If school wasn’t going on and I thought I could get away with it, I’d ask Dad to let me come with you.” Chris pulled back and looked up at Buck. “But you probably need some time on your own, huh?”

“Maybe. You’re getting pretty wise there in your teenage years.”

“I know it’s hard to be sad and not know how to say it. Sometimes it’s easier to just be sad without anyone trying to fix it.”

“True that.”

“You’ll keep in touch?”

“Via email for sure. A lot of the parts of the country I’ll be in have sh-uh, terrible cell signal, so I’m not relying on my phone. And, honestly, I need a break from routine communication, texting, and emojis.”

Chris gave a laugh that sounded at least seventy percent honest amusement. “We did okay keeping in touch through email while I was in Texas.”

“Yeah, we did. It wasn’t every day, which is what everyone always promises, but I’d rather consistent and meaningful than all the time and shallow.”

Chris smiled. “Do you know how long you’ll be gone?”

“No, and since I couldn’t give a date on how much leave I needed, the LAFD basically forced me to resign—”

“What?!” Eddie exploded.

Ignoring him, Buck continued talking to Christopher, “But the chief made it clear I’m welcome back as soon as I return. Open-ended personal leaves are rarely tolerated well, and I understand that. It’s not ideal, but for the sake of everyone I work with, I need to sort myself out.”

Chris nodded. “I get it. It’s really hard to go through the motions when you’re sad deep inside.”

“Yeah.” Buck’s smile felt cracked and broken.

Chris squeezed his hand. “I miss him too, and he wasn’t my dad, so I can’t imagine how much harder it is for you. I’m sorry, Buck.”

Buck had to blink away the emotion that threatened to undo him. He pulled Christopher into a side hug. “Thanks, Superman. Of everyone, I’ll miss you the most, but I really think I need to do this. So, I’m gonna go relive my teenage angst.”

Chris gave a watery laugh as he buried himself in the hug. “Emails at least once a week.”

“I swear on a stack of donuts.”

“With sprinkles.”

“Absolutely with sprinkles.”

Chris extricated himself and got up. “I’ll let you say goodbye to Dad. Are you leaving tonight?”

“As soon as I finish hugging you and exchanging goodbyes with Eds, I’m headed out.”

“Wow.” Chris’ smile was sad. “I’ll miss you. I kept wondering how things had any chance of feeling like normal around here with Uncle Bobby gone, but with you away, they’ll never feel the same, but I’d rather you be happy again than just be here.”

Buck got to his feet and dropped a kiss on the top of Chris’ head. “You’re a good kid, and you’re turning into a remarkable young man. I love you, bud.”

“Love you too, Buck.” Chris gave him one last hug and then went to his room.

Then it was just him and Eddie, squaring off in the place that used to feel like home, but had stopped feeling like that long before he’d foolishly taken over the lease.

Eddie shoved his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t know about you and Bobby and the road trip…stuff.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been made clear to me that my grief is a massive inconvenience, and there’s very little about my relationship with Bobby that you know anything about.”

Eddie winced. “Buck.”

Buck held up a hand. “I’m not interested in it, Eddie. Not another reason for you to say ugly things you really don’t regret because deep down you think I’ve got it a lot easier than you or something.”

“You don’t know what it’s like being a parent.”

Buck sighed. “Yeah, okay. I gotta go.”

“That’s it?”

“What’s there to say? I got nothin’, man. Except…” He pulled a folded cashier’s check from his pocket. “Chris wants to do some science camp this summer.”

“I know. It’s expensive.”

Buck passed over the check. “I had to juggle my finances, liquidate some investments in order to make the trip a go, and I didn’t want to not prioritize Chris before I went crazy out there. I know the base price of camp is three thousand, but I have no idea about travel costs or incidentals or whatever. So, there’s the three thousand.” He handed over the cashier’s check. “If you decide not to let him go, you can just add it to his college fund.”

Eddie frowned. “Buck… Are you not coming back before summer?”

Buck met Eddie’s gaze and bold-faced lied. “I’m sure I will be, but shit happens, Eds. Like I said, I wanted to be sure the important stuff got prioritized before I started spending money on other stuff.”

“But what if—”

“I’m not discussing my finances with you. I’ve never discussed my finances with you, and I’m not starting now.” Buck turned and headed for the door. “Take care, Eddie. Glad you’re back with the 118 and you’re both happy.”

Eddie followed him to the door. “I feel like there are things we need to talk about.”

“Why? We’ve had lots of opportunities to have real conversations, and you’ve made no attempts. I’m not a doll you can just set to ‘converse mode’ when you’re ready. I’m leaving, and anything left to say can be said when I get back.”

“Buck, don’t leave it like this.”

“Like what? You’ve had a lot of opportunities to clear the air with me since your little speech about my trials and tribulations, a tragedy in ninety-seven acts.”

Eddie full-on flinched. “You know I regretted saying that.”

“I don’t know that, actually, because you never said anything other than some vague allusion to someone being a dick to me. But I’m saving you the hassle of having to deal with me by taking my 98^th act on the road, okay? You’re off the hook, Eds. Not that anyone was on the hook.” His smile was bitter. “I need to deal with how I feel, and since how I feel is just way too much for the people who supposedly care about me, I’m going to go deal with it by myself.”

“Buck, please don’t be this way.”

“You don’t get to tell me how to be,” Buck snapped. “We’ll talk when I get back, and maybe we can do a reset, but right now, I’m pretty pissed. I’m pissed that everything is always about others. I’m not allowed to mourn because Chim needs support as the new captain, or because you have a child, or because Maddie needs support after her trauma. I’m done, Eddie. I’m gonna go sit on a fence in the middle of fucking nowhere and have a conversation with Bobby that none of you get to make me feel guilty about.”

Eddie looked crushed. “That wasn’t—”

“I don’t even want to hear the excuses anymore. Let’s say goodbye with some politeness. I mean, I’m grateful. You at least let me say goodbye to Chris. Maddie wouldn’t let me see my niblings unless I agreed to stay.”

Eddie’s eyes widened.

“Transactional love. Pretty fucking gross, if you ask me, but she’s actually always been that way, I just failed to see it until recently. Anyway, I’m not obligated to make Chim successful as captain, nor am I obligated to anything or anyone else. So, again, I appreciate you being decent about letting me see Chris. I don’t want to have a bloodletting with you right now. I need some space before we try to talk again.”

“Okay, Buck.”

“Email, please. I’m turning off my phone…soonish.” He pivoted and tossed his key on Eddie’s entryway table. “Take care, Eddie.”

“Why are you leaving your key?”

“Because I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, and you were talking like you might be moving. Again. After the house closes in El Paso, since it looks like you’ll make a profit on the house flip in Texas.”

“Please keep the key,” Eddie said, with a note of desperation. “If we move, the locks will be rekeyed anyway, and I want you to be able to come in when you get back. Last I heard, you don’t have anywhere to live in LA.

Sighing, Buck pocketed the key, fighting down the resentment over his own choices that left him homeless. Again. “Good lord,” he muttered. “Why does everyone suddenly give a shit once I finally give up?” He glanced at Eddie. “All right. See you.”

“Buck…”

“Bye, Eddie.” He closed the door firmly behind him.

Act V. An Inclination Towards Dishonesty

“No one talked you out of going, huh?” Tommy asked as soon as he opened the door.

“I wasn’t looking to be talked out of going.”

Tommy raised one brow but stepped back so Buck could enter. “You sure?”

He wanted to lash out, to wound, to point out that Tommy might think he knew Buck, but he really didn’t—by Tommy’s own choice. “I could have just packed up, left, and sent everyone an email, but that seemed like a dick move. I definitely needed to say goodbye to Athena in person.”

“And your sister?”

Buck didn’t respond.

Tommy’s brow furrowed.

Buck pulled out some keys and some signed paperwork, passing them over. “Thanks for taking care of this.”

“You sure about this?”

“Positive.”

“And you’re absolutely sure you don’t want me to run it by your family?”

Buck reached for the keys and paperwork to take them back. “You said you could handle this.”

“I can,” Tommy said sharply, holding them out of reach. “But the Jeep always seemed very nostalgic to you, so the fact that you’re getting rid of it feels like… I don’t know. There’s more going on than you’re saying.”

Buck held out his hand for the stuff to be returned. The Jeep had been running rough for a few weeks, and Buck could take it to the shop and spend thousands or just let it go. Once he’d made his decision, he’d given up on fixing it. The Jeep had been parked at Tommy’s for days now.

“You’re being weird, and I don’t understand—”

“I don’t owe you this,” Buck snapped.

Tommy blinked. “I’m not saying you do, okay? I just want to be sure you won’t have regrets.”

“Jesus, Tommy, the Jeep can’t handle a big road trip again, and I’m not going to have multiple vehicles. Hell, it won’t even reliably get me to work. I’m flying back East, and I’ll buy something there. You said you’d take care of donating the Jeep. If you won’t do it, then give me the freaking title back.”

“I’ll do it,” Tommy said in a soft tone. “I’ve never seen you this fucking edgy.”

“Yeah, well…” Buck made a dismissive gesture. “I really appreciate that we’re making strides towards being friends again, and I’m grateful for everything you’ve done, but there are some confidences we aren’t ready for.”

Tommy nodded. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about the way things went that last morning.”

“I really don’t want to talk about that.”

“The fact that we don’t talk about what matters is a big part of our problem, don’t you think?”

Buck glared. “And who made the choice that we wouldn’t talk about the things that mattered?”

Tommy sighed and sat down, rubbing his hand over his head. “We’ve sort of talked around this, but I’ll just say it plain; I know I fucked up. We should have talked more when I panicked, and then I said all the wrong things that last morning. But, Evan, I really believed you were in love with Eddie.”

Buck blinked, then he stared, then he blinked some more. “You’re an idiot.”

“You never denied it.”

“I never denied it because I was so shocked by your dumbass ‘competition remark’ and how hurtful it was that it took me a while to scrape my brain off the floor to find denial. If it helps you sleep at night, Tommy, I am not in love with Eddie. He was never competition. The problem with you being relieved that Eddie was in Texas was that Eddie being gone meant Chris was gone, and Chris in Texas was breaking my heart. I was stunned because you clearly never understood me. Just like today, how you think I did all this to be talked out of it means you do not understand me at all.”

“Evan…”

“Don’t Evan me. We agreed to try to be friends, to work on setting aside the clusterfuckups and move on, but if you’re going to second-guess me and treat me this way, I’ve got nothing to say, and we can call this friendship experiment done.”

“Okay, stop.” Tommy held up his hands. “Tell me what went wrong. I messed up, obviously. Just tell me what it was so I can not do it again, and we’ll move on like we have been.”

“How about assuming me saying goodbye to everyone was to be talked out of going like this was all some passive-aggressive attention ploy?”

“I didn’t mean it that way, but I can see how the question came across like that. I apologize. What else?”

“Thinking you need to run my decision to get rid of the Jeep by my sister.”

Tommy winced. “Okay, that wasn’t my best moment. I’m sorry. I’d be furious if someone infantilized me that way. If you don’t trust me to take care of the Jeep, I get it, but I will still take care of it for you if you want me to.”

Buck reluctantly nodded. He half wanted to just snatch it away, but he didn’t have a backup plan other than Carla, and she was already doing so much for him. “That’s it. I gotta go. I have a flight.” He didn’t, but it was getting easier to lie to everyone.

“Will you tell me sometime… I mean, why you feel you have to go away for however long this will be in order to grieve? I get that there’s something going on at the 118 that I don’t understand, but I’d like to.”

“Maybe,” Buck conceded. “I’m sure you’ll get an earful from Chim, Hen, and Eddie, but just try to remember that they’re the ones who think I should prioritize everyone else’s feelings and needs above my own, and if I mention my own grief at all, I’m making it all about myself yet again. I’m suffocating here, and I need to get out.”

“You’re also angry,” Tommy said softly.

“I’m bitter, Tommy, and I’m trying to get away from everyone before that just comes spilling out. I need time to decompress. I need to be able to be sad without Eddie accusing me of not putting Christopher first.”

Tommy looked confused. “What? That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Good luck finding logic in whatever the fuck is going on with Eddie anymore. I’m not discounting that I need therapy—that we all fucking need therapy—but Maddie wouldn’t even let me say goodbye to Jee because I wouldn’t agree to stay longer to ensure Chim’s successful transition into the captain’s chair.”

Tommy blinked.

“I’m getting angrier by the minute, and I need to get away from LA before I say and do something I’ll deeply regret. I appreciate the overtures toward repairing our friendship we’ve made recently, and that you’re willing to take care of the Jeep for me. I got nothin’ else.”

Tommy’s expression was sad. “I’ll admit, part of me was always hoping we were trying to repair towards something else entirely.”

Buck huffed. “We’d have to both learn how to communicate constructively.”

“You’ll keep in touch?” Tommy asked.

“No. I’ll check my email on the weekends, but I’m not going to have my cellphone even turned on. I refuse to be emotionally blackmailed by my sister every fifth mile.”

“I think a lot of people are going to be worried about you…”

Buck scoffed. “I sincerely doubt it.”

Tommy’s expression twisted. “Whatever you do, please find someone to talk to. This level of bitterness is not like you at all, and it’s actually painful to see.”

For months, Buck had thought his feelings were Tommy were unresolved. Considering how easy it was to walk away, he’d apparently gotten clarity at some point.

Act VI. The Lies We Tell Ourselves

His last Uber dropped him off at Carla’s. She’d been his chief enabler in deciding to get gone. She was even storing some of the few things he couldn’t fit in his new pickup truck in her garage until he could send for them.

He’d been staying in hers and Howard’s guestroom for a week, not that anyone knew that. There’d even been discussion of him helping remodel their old mother-in-law cottage and then renting it, but then Carla had encouraged him to take the trip.

She’s the only person who knew all his plans. She also knew he didn’t plan to return to LA.

She’d sat through some painful realizations where he’d pulled away the blinders and realized a lot of his relationships at the 118 were built on dysfunction at this point. There may be real feelings there, but it would take so much work and therapy to make it healthy, it was easier to separate and no longer work together. He’d need to leave the 118 either way, which Chim promised to block, so Buck might as well figure out what he really wanted to do.

That’s when he started peeling back the layers on what brought him to LA and what was keeping him in LA.

He’d been a little all over the place as he’d prepared, his emotions and his grief leading him down some odd paths. He had more money than anyone would give him credit for, but he tended not to mess with his investments once he made them. This change had required him to cash out several investment accounts and move things around, which was why he’d kept some money aside for Christopher. Aside from the money for the camp, he’d already sent $50,000 directly to his education and medical trust.

Selling furniture for any sort of profit was a lost cause in this day and age, so he’d donated almost everything tangible that he owned except his kitchen stuff, clothes, and a few other things he was sentimental about.

The furniture and Jeep would be a tax write-off because it was all well-documented donations, and there was a lot of it.

He’d bought a 2022 Toyota Tundra CrewMax in a color Toyota called Army Green. The CrewMax cab wouldn’t be great to sleep in, but it would do in a pinch if the weather wasn’t accommodating to sleep in the bed of the truck. The only things he was taking on the road were outdoor gear, clothes, small electronics, and other basic necessities.

He’d send for the rest of his personal things and kitchen stuff later. Carla and Howard had a big garage, and said they didn’t mind keeping the dozen or so carefully packed boxes until he was ready for them.

Howard was out picking up his cooking knives, which he’d dropped off over the weekend to be sharpened, but Carla had tea ready for him.

“How did it go?”

“Mostly worse than expected, but occasionally better than I would have thought.”

“Any epiphanies?”

“Not really. Nothing that rose to the level of epiphany. Though I guess I saw even clearer how much my relationship with Maddie is nothing but a house of cards. I still see her through the eyes of a neglected seven-year-old.”

“And she still treats you like you’re seven,” Carla countered.

“Touché.” Buck sipped his tea. “She wouldn’t let me see Jee unless I agreed to stay longer.” He tried to relay the details, but it ultimately got jumbled up, so he just let her listen to it.

Carla sighed when Buck turned off the recording. “People disappoint me on the regular, so I’m not sure why I’m surprised. I sure am sorry, baby.”

“Me too.”

“You were prepared to be cut off from the children.”

“Yeah. I can’t even say my nephew’s name.” Buck shook his head. He knew Maddie and Chim had a whole thing for naming their kids after the dead, but there was a difference between the long-dead and the recently deceased.

Give people five fucking minutes to stop flinching, please.

“It’s harsh of me to even think this, but I think they named him Robert to insert themselves into Athena’s grieving process.” He shook his head, frustrated with himself for thinking so poorly of his sister, even if his opinion of her had fallen significantly in recent weeks. “And I think Athena is too torn up to realize that it doesn’t actually make her feel good to have someone hand her a baby and say, ‘I named him after the husband you just lost.’ If they’d done it in five years, fine. But time and fucking place.”

“You know I agree with you. Not everyone has that view on names, but I think slapping grieving people in the face with a newborn’s name does everyone a disservice, including the newborn. But it sounds like your worst fears about Maddie and Chimney were realized. Hen?”

Buck shrugged. “I had low expectations anyway, but she managed to sink lower. I’ve always known she prioritized Chimney to a degree that was detrimental to even herself, but I think this is ridiculous. I think Karen understood more than I expected, but Hen was all over the place with expecting me to honor their right to a higher grief based on tenure or some such.”

Carla frowned. “What?”

“I can’t even make sense of it. I think Karen was appalled, so I’ll let her sort that nonsense out. I have no interest in talking to Hen again. Maybe I’ll feel differently when I’m not so damn angry all the time, but right now, I just don’t care.”

“How was it with Athena?”

Buck shrugged. “I hold no ill will. She’s kept herself very separate from me since Bobby died. Not completely, but whether intentionally or not, she made it clear where the family lines were, and I was on the outside of those lines. I don’t begrudge her whatever she had to do to get through, or still needs to do, but she can’t suddenly flip the script now. There was definitely an element of her wanting to know everything so she could fix it, and I refused to engage. There’s just no point in dragging her into all this when it’s too late; I’m not changing my mind.

“I was briefly tempted to tell her everything, and I realized I’d only be doing so for petty reasons. Athena needs to stay focused on her own healing and her family’s recovery, not get involved in the nonsense at the 118.”

Carla blew out a breath and squeezed his hands. “I’m really sorry, sweetie.”

“It’s okay. I told you I doubted there’d be a family without Bobby.”

“Whether they realize it or not, I think they expect you to be the next Bobby,” Carla said gently. “But it’s not a fair expectation.”

He shook his head.

“And you saw Tommy?”

“You’re leaving Eddie for last, eh?”

“Naturally. I already know you had drinks with Ravi, Jones, Martinez, and DeKay last night, so that leaves Tommy and Eddie.”

“Tommy is…confusing.”

“How so?”

“He jumped right to the conclusion that I was doing the goodbye rounds so someone would talk me out of leaving, which is a low opinion of me, though I don’t think he realized what exactly he was putting out there with that expectation. And then he asked if I wanted a sanity check on getting rid of the Jeep to go through Maddie.”

Carla frowned. “You know, Howard would have taken care of the Jeep for you.”

Buck blew out a breath. “I should have let him. I made that dumbass mistake of letting Tommy in on my plans to take a road trip and then felt like I needed to let him help once he offered. All I’ve done is lie to everyone, though. Only you guys know that I already have a new vehicle and I’m leaving today via car and not plane.” He rubbed his forehead. “Hell, no one even knows where I’m staying.”

He’d told everyone he was couch-surfing at Ravi’s, and then given Ravi a heads-up about it. That he didn’t need to lie in response, but just to let Buck know if anyone mentioned it. And no one ever did. Literally no one cared for ten days now where he was living.

There was a private mailbox outlet in the same shopping center where Carla got her groceries, so she was temporarily going to check the mail. Once Buck got settled, he’d have them forward his mail to his new place so Carla didn’t have to check it for him anymore. He didn’t want to put the long-term burden of mail on Carla, even though she’d offered.

Carla squeezed his hand again, grabbing his attention. “I know it feels like there’s a lot of callous disinterest, but everyone is just very focused on themselves right now. I agree with you that there are issues in these relationships that need to be addressed, possibly even ones that might preclude you from working together, so you know I support you taking whatever time you need.”

He frowned, wondering at the disconnect that persisted if she thought he might be coming back.

“Tell me how it went with Eddie and Christopher.”

“Christopher was good. He really understood what the stated road trip would be for and how it might be helpful. He was supportive, and I think he even saw it as a good way of handling grief in this situation, especially since it’s conversations Bobby and I shared.” Buck managed a melancholy smile. “Bobby really was the only person besides Chris to ever express interest in those places I visited.”

Carla smiled sadly. “I’ve missed my prince charming.”

“Yeah.” Christopher was the hardest part of leaving.

“And Eddie?”

Buck shook his head. “He doesn’t get it. I don’t think he’ll ever get it. His whole identity has become being a father and not dealing with his trauma. Whoever Eddie Diaz used to be has gotten lost along the way. He also thinks being a father trumps everything anyone else is going through. And he thinks that buys him special dispensation or something. I don’t know.”

He turned the teacup around in its saucer. “I confronted Tommy a bit about that competition remark. And I misled him. The thing is, he wasn’t wrong on some level. Eddie and Christopher were always going to be a big part of my life and a potential stumbling block for a romantic partner. Especially if it wasn’t well defined and discussed what the boundaries were.” Buck chuckled self-deprecatingly. “And how could they be when we were all so clueless. I’m still not sure what my feelings for Eddie were at some point in the past—that’s more than I want to deal with, I think. But whatever those feelings were, they’re in the past now.

“As I walked away today, it crossed my mind that Eddie’s main role in my life is Christopher’s father. Which is callous and uncalled for. Eddie is still my friend, regardless of the shitty things he’s said and done lately.”

“How you feel is how you feel. It says a lot about the state of your friendship and how much work there is to do if you see him as simply an adult you have to get along with in order to spend time with your godson, rather than a friend you want to spend time with in his own right.”

Buck smiled sadly. “Yeah. Then there’s Carla Price, who I will miss terribly.”

“I’m going to miss you too, Buckaroo.”

“I promise to make arrangements for my stuff as soon as I can.”

“You know we don’t care. We have plenty of garage space, and your boxes aren’t any burden.”

“Okay. You’ll come visit me when I get settled?”

Carla gave a nod, but her expression was pained. “You know I support everything you’re doing; you deserve to grieve and heal, no matter how long it takes. But you always speak so confidently that you’re not coming back. And I just hope you’ll be open-minded to the idea that you’ll heal and want to return home.”

“Carla,” Buck said sadly, “I’m not coming back.”

“I hear you, and I believe you right now, but please give yourself room let things evolve how they need to evolve.”

“I think the part I wasn’t clear about is that I’m not just going to be wandering around. I’m going to visit Bobby, I’m going to see a couple of the places he mentioned to me, and then I’m going home.”

Act VII. Where Lies Go Unheard and Unanswered

“Hey, Bobby,” Buck said softly as he dropped down to one knee in the grass, staring at the NASH family headstone. “Sorry it took me a bit to get here and say my final goodbyes. Getting where I needed to be in my own head was hard enough, plus it took a minute to prepare for this trip.

“And hello, Marcy. Bobby and I stayed up way too late one night and talked about a road trip someday where he showed me his hometown. I wasn’t sure he really meant it, but he promised we’d stop by here and he’d let me meet the rest of our family when we finally had the trip.

“He’s been very generous in pseudo-adopting me into the family, and in the last couple of years, he’s started to open up about his first family. I was really glad of that. I know keeping your memory close was precious to him, but you all deserve to be remembered. Now that—” Buck cleared his throat, giving himself a moment. “Now that Bobby’s gone, I’m truly glad he told me more about you—each of you. I wouldn’t be able to remember all of the Nash family if Bobby hadn’t started to shake off some of the grief and let me in.

“I even have some pictures.” He smiled sadly. “I helped Bobby digitize the few photos he had of you guys. He was worried about getting Athena involved, but Athena wouldn’t have cared, I don’t think. They were both careful about pushing their first loves in each other’s faces, though, which is really sweet and loving of them.

“Anyway, I still had access to the share drive I set up for Bobby, so I have the Nash family photo archive.” He blew out a breath. “I thought maybe I should check with Athena about what to do with that, but I realized now may not be the time. I also had the thought that my relationship with Bobby included her, but it also existed without her, so I don’t need her permission to remember you or to be here. And the Nash family photos don’t really have anything to do with her, so it’s confusing.

“What a weird ramble, huh? I’m not even sure where I’m going with any of that, but I sometimes feel like an interloper. I love Athena dearly, but I haven’t known where to step with her since Bobby passed over, Marcy. I guess I’m just shaking off the anxiety here.”

He let his eyes trace over the lines making up names and dates etched in stone. “Bobby talked more freely about you for a long time. It was like he thought he had no right to tell me about his kids. Then, once he started to share, I got at least one layer of why he might be hesitant to talk about them with me.

“I’m sort of like a grown-up amalgamation of them, huh? It’s strange hearing Bobby talk through his memories, and we both hear how much like Brooke or Robbie I am. It put a lot of his actions into perspective for me. Helped me forgive some things I’d been holding on to, whether I wanted to admit I was holding on to them or not.”

He took a shuddery breath. “Anyway, on to the important introductions. Hi Brooke. Hi Robbie. I’m your big brother, Evan. I’m sorry we never really got to know each other in this life, but we’ll get to be friends someday. Pops has told me all about you, though, so I feel like I know you. Both because of all the ways we’re the same, but also because of how we’re different.

“One thing Pops and I have in common is that we’re both utter crap at losing people. I mean, bad at it. Y’all passed young, so I’m avoiding saying the words I’m thinking, but it’s not polite.

“I’ve come to the conclusion that the key to dealing with loss is feeling safe and loved while you process the grief.” He fiddled with the blades of grass as he shifted to a seated position, knowing he’d need to change before he could go anywhere. “Bobby was adrift without you guys, and there was no one to pull him back, so he just drilled down into his grief, made weird choices, and tried to keep himself from getting hurt again.

“It’s strange that I was only six when I lost my grandparents, but I felt much the same way. The alone part, I mean. Maddie was around, but she wasn’t close with my grandparents the way I was, so she didn’t really empathize, and her lack of empathy made me feel uncertain about her in ways I never had before.”

He smiled sadly. “It was the memory of that time that made me start combing through the truth of our shared history to try to sort the truth from the lies. It’s easy to make something bigger and more important than it really was when you feel like it’s all you have.

“Anyway, after my grandparents, I’m not sure I ever felt safe, which is why it was so easy to leave. Then I settled in again with Prudy. Prudence Jane Wells. I do hope she’s found you guys because the extended Nash family needs to find one another. She’s amazing, and she can teach you to dance, so don’t discount the oldies music, okay?

“Anyway, Prudy was half mom, half grandmother, maybe with a dash of aunt in there. Maybe every maternal figure all rolled into one. And I really wasn’t prepared to lose her too. I did a whole Bobby Nash long before I met Bobby Nash. I ran from all the reminders of her as fast as I could, and even when Bobby opened up about you guys, I could never really open up about Prudy.

“Anyway, with all those parental figures, losing Pops was the hardest, but I ostensibly had the most support after losing Bobby, right?” He ran his hands over the grass again, letting it tickle his palms. “All those people who loved me, but I felt terribly alone, drowning in grief, wanting to run away. I guess I am running away, or running to. I’m not even sure anymore.

“But then Carla showed up and gave me space to feel how I was feeling without it being selfish to be sad. We talked a lot, and I started planning. That’s when I knew I had to leave.

“Leaving isn’t to repeat my old bad habits but to make better choices. Starting with saying goodbye to Pops, meeting you properly, and then…” he blew out a heavy breath, “finally facing my past and going home.”

He considered what else he wanted to say. “You know, Maddie named her new baby after Bobby. I really struggled with that. I’m not a big fan of direct naming after a loved one anyway; I think there are indirect ways to honor a loved one without saddling a kid with a name they have to live up to, but I digress. In my nephew’s case, though. I…” he sighed. “It’s too soon. People think they need to be happy and honored or whatever, but it’s just painful, and they don’t have room to say so because it’s a baby.

“All that to say, part of the plan going home is to focus a little more on the recreation side of the ranch. There’s always been good potential there, but we’ve kept it to a minimum because there’s no one there to really develop it. Anyway, Prudy never named many of the trails or peaks on the property, so I get to do it. I thought I’d name them after you guys. But not in a super obvious way.

“Robbie, Pops told me how you liked games that were strategic, and once you’d gotten exposed to Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote that your avatar was always the Roadrunner. I admit, he then had to expose me to the Roadrunner so I’d understand what he was talking about, but that’s another digression.

“There’s definitely more prankster in your personality than mine. So, there’s a really challenging climbing route on the land. It’s the most challenging on the recreation side of the land. I thought I’d name it Roadrunner Peak. I know you’d be able to figure it out, and we’ll pit you against all those would-be climbers, eh?

“Brooke, I think the thing that stuck out to me was how you liked to read outdoors, even though you were little. You’d try to get them to read you storybooks outside. He told me one story that I loved about how you wanted to be outside every day once the song sparrows migrated back to Minnesota, so you could listen to them while reading.

“So, to honor you, there’s a hiking trail that leads to this perfect reading tree. It has great shade, a lot of wildflowers, and it actually sits near a brook. I think we’re going to call it Sparrow’s Run.

“And Marcy, the highest peak on the property, I’m thinking about just calling it Mama’s Lookout. I know Minnesota is home, but I want you guys to have a place with me too. Pops, I don’t have a particular idea for you yet. I’ll be honest that just thinking about it makes me sad, but I figure keeping the memory of our family alive is what’s most important to you, eh? It always has been.”

He swiped at his eyes because he was suddenly struggling with his emotions. “I miss you a lot, and I wish every day there’d been something I could do. I think the thing that cracked me open the worst was Eddie’s assertion that if he’d been with us instead of in Texas that things would have gone differently.” Buck blew out a shaky breath. “Does he really think I didn’t do everything I could to save you?” He shook his head, trying to push away the emotions. “I dunno. I figure you know what’s been going on. There’s not a lot of point in reliving it.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stay, but I wasn’t healing. I couldn’t grieve in any meaningful way, and I didn’t want to internalize all the things coming at me and wind up bitter and angry, blaming myself, the rest of the world, and starting to believe that I could have done something that would have changed things. I don’t want to be running around with a black book, a list of names, and a plan because I hate myself.”

He bit his lip. “I’m not sure if you support me leaving or not, but I think you’d support me doing what’s best for me. As painful as this all is now, I think it’s the right path for me. It might even wind up good for everyone else.”

Rolling to his knees, he gently touched the etched names. “Enjoy your next adventure, okay? The living are going to be okay. I just came by to let you know where I’m headed next and to say goodbye. I love you, and I promise to keep the memories a good thing that makes me happy rather than a weight dragging me down.”

Getting to his feet, he let his fingertips graze along the top of the tombstone. “Goodbye, Bobby.”

The End