Archive of Our Own ^beta

“And she’s telling me my lemon bars aren’t good enough, and I’m like, Julie, at least they’re not dry, like what you’re insisting are brownies!”

Buck laughs, a deep belly laugh. “Oh my God, that’s so right though. I’ve had the misfortune of eating her baking before. I’ve swallowed seawater before and it didn’t make my throat as dry.”

She laughs, on the lounger next to him. It’s a perfect autumn afternoon, not cold but just crisp enough to have the prospect of using their new firepit be exciting. He can hear birds in the trees, and the sounds of kids playing somewhere.

She’s wearing a mustard yellow dress, and her hair is down, all wavy across her shoulders. He’s holding a cocktail, maybe a Pimm’s cup? And she’s holding a matching one.

He takes a sip. It’s delicious.

“God, and she always finds a way to put a hand on my bicep when I see her. So awkward.”

She laughs again, warm and mischievous. “God, she is the worst. It’s like, you’re also married, Julie. Sorry your husband’s hedge fund arms aren’t as big.”

Buck laughs. “Oh, I have to avoid the dads like him because otherwise they corner me to obsess about my body and ask about my workout routine. I don’t even think it’s that they want to fuck me, it’s that weird straight guy masc adoration thing.”

She cackles, laughing so much she has to put down her drink. 

She sighs.

“I love bitching about PTA moms with you.”

Buck laughs. “I thought you’d prefer Eddie for this, he says I’m too nice to them.”

She laughs. “Eddie’s bitchier, but you’re so funny. They act so weird about you.”

“I’ll take it, then,” he grins, taking a sip.

There’s something in the back of his mind, something catching but not lighting. “Where’s Eddie?” he asks.

There’s music coming from the french doors behind them, lightly. That band that Eddie likes because his Dad used to play them a lot. What were they called? Something Spanish?

Buena Vista Social Club, he remembers.

She glances back at the open doors, then back to him, “I love this song,” she says picking up her drink to take a sip. “Eddie’s in there with Toby.”

“Toby?” Buck asks, trying to remember.

She giggles. “How tipsy are you? My partner, Toby. They’re probably getting distracted by talking about baseball or something.”

“Right, Toby,” he smiles.

He watches her, with her perfect red lipstick and sparkling eyes, and suddenly, the thing at the back of his mind occurs to him. “Shannon?”

“Yes, Buck?”

“How - how are you here? And where - where’s here?” he asks, sitting up and looking around. He puts his drink down.

It’s a beautiful backyard. The house also seems nice - a little bigger than Eddie’s current one. It seems perfect. He just realises now that he doesn’t recognise it at all.

Shannon glances around and smiles sheepishly, and then turns her head back to him. “Hard to explain, but I am.”

“Is this a dream? Are you a ghost?”

Shannon giggles. “Always the questions with you.” She pauses. “Sure, and, if you like. It doesn’t really matter.”

Buck blinks, but she’s still in front of him. “Where are we?”

Shannon smiles more, turns her head to look around again. “Your next house. Or, well, the kind of place you might be in next.”

“It’s nice,” he agrees. “Can’t imagine we can afford this here, though.”

She laughs again. “Well, right here and now you can. It’s just an idea anyway.”

He nods.

He’s quiet for a moment, watching her. “Why do I feel like I’ve known you for years? I - barely met you before…” he trails off, remembering.

His face falls. “I’m so sorry.”

She doesn’t seem bothered. “It’s alright.” She smiles, eyes twinkling. “I just thought it would be nice to experience this, just once. How I like to imagine it could’ve gone.”

“If you’d lived?” Buck asks, catching on.

It’s so strange - he knows, even in this dream, that dreams always feel real until you wake up and realise you were having that conversation with your ex in your third-grade classroom - but this one feels especially real. He can feel the crisp air, and he can hear someone mowing their lawn distantly. He can hear the specific different songs coming from the house.

“Yeah,” she says, watching him easily, warmly. She takes a sip of her drink. “God, that’s good.  You make a great cocktail.”

“I went to school for it,” he tells her, automatically.

“I know,” she says, lightly.

“Is this the future?” he asks, and then shakes his head. “Dumb question, sorry. But is it a future that could’ve happened?”

Shannon shrugs, sipping her drink. “An idea of one. It’s your dream, Buck.”

“Right.” He watches her. “And we’re friends, here.”

She nods. “Yeah, we’re close. We go to the farmers market together and buy goat cheese because we’re the only ones who like it. And I tell you about the drama at my work while you fix my deck because Toby doesn’t really do construction or DIY.”

He smiles, imagining it. “That sounds nice.”

“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?” she says, slowly.

They sit in silence for a moment or two.

Buck looks at her. “I guess I’m…surprised by this.”

“By the dream?” Shannon asks. She cocks her head to the side. “Or us being friends?”

Buck doesn’t feel like he needs to lie. It’s just the two of them, wherever it is they are. “The second one.”

Shannon nods, and her long, wavy hair moves with it. It’s very shiny here. Maybe that’s an afterlife thing. If this is the afterlife. Or some kind of way station between the two.

“Thought you might be.”

Buck finally gives voice to the gnawing sensation in his gut. “Shouldn’t you hate me?”

“Hate you?” she asks, surprised. “When you make drinks this good?”

“Shannon,” he pleads.

She keeps his gaze, and puts down her drink. “Buck. No, I don’t hate you. I didn’t hate you when I was alive. That would’ve been wild, I barely knew you.”

“A lot’s happened since then,” he argues, uneasy. “Maybe you should.”

She sighs. “You really are as self-sacrificing as I thought,” she says, but not unkindly. “Why should I hate you?”

He bites his lip. “I just…stepped into your space. I love your husband, and I parent your son. And I love him so much. I love them both so much. And you didn’t get to do - this.” He gestures around them. “I took your family.”

He can’t look at her. It’s too difficult.

“Buck,” she says, softly. “Look at me.”

He does, finally.

She doesn’t look hurt or angry. “Reality check, ok?” she starts, keeping his gaze firmly. “One, ex-husband. And two, you didn’t take anything from me. I died. And it took you a while - a long while - to tell Eddie how you felt, to step into this role.”

“How do you know that?”

Shannon smiles enigmatically. “Oh I have my sources.”

He considers this.

“You didn’t do it three weeks after my death or something and pack Chris off to boarding school.”

Buck half smiles at the thought of him being some evil stepmother, Meredith in The Parent Trap to Chris. But the guilt is still there, a little. “I know,” he says slowly. “But I - I think I was into Eddie from the start. Before you came back and then you did, and I buried it, because he was the best friend I’d made in a long time and I didn’t want to wreck it by making things awkward. But I was kind of -”

He takes a deep breath. “I think I was jealous of you. And I didn’t even really think about why, and I didn’t even admit it to myself. I was jealous you got to be back with your family, and that’s why I didn’t really ever get to know you. I’m horrible, you should hate me.”

Shannon laughs.

He frowns. “Don’t laugh.”

She turns her eyes on him, and he can tell its not mocking. “I’m not making fun of you, Buck. It’s ok, it was a long time ago. I don’t need you to apologise for your thoughtcrimes.”

He still feels guilty.

Shannon watches him. “Do you think you would’ve done something bad if I’d lived? With Eddie?”

He shakes his head. “No I don’t cheat - well, actually, there was this one time but it was complicated - generally, no. But, I don’t know, maybe. I think I was in love with your husband - or ex-husband - when you were alive. Even if I didn’t really know it. I don’t know how we would’ve gotten here.”

Shannon leans over and takes his hand, covers it with her own. “Buck, you have to stop also feeling guilty for your hypothetical crimes. But if it helps, imagine that I lived. That Eddie and I and Chris were a family, and that you were a little sad because you couldn’t be there, with them. Eddie and I probably would’ve broken up, especially if Eddie admitted to me who he was. And then you would’ve been there for them, and after all the pain and the healing, we might have all become friends out of necessity and then because we genuinely like each other, even if me and Eddie’s marriage was a disaster. Stop feeling like you betrayed me somehow.”

Buck nods. He blinks. He lets go of the last secret thought. “I like that thought. But really, I got the most close with them after your death. Your death gave me my family. It’s horrible to remember your happiness came from so much grief and misery.” He blinks again, and his eyes are hot. “Story of my life, literally. I was born out of it. Because of it.”

Shannon squeezes his hand. “I’m really sorry about that. But the other stuff? That’s life, babe.”

He gives her a confused look.

She seems very serious now. “You saved them. When I wasn’t there the first time, when I couldn’t be there the second. You saved my little boy from a natural disaster, you saved his father - and the only man I ever loved - when he was shot. You kept showing up and you kept saving them.” She sniffs. “Hate you? I love you, Buck! I love you for what you’ve done for them. For doing what I couldn’t, especially with Eddie.”

He sobs, and she leans over to pull him into a hug. His brain is fuzzy in that strange dream kind of way, but distantly, he thinks how strange it is that he’s being comforted by his boyfriend’s dead ex-wife in the backyard of a beautiful house he doesn’t own in a future that never came to pass.

Strange, but not awful.

“I love you,” he admits, despite not knowing that until right now. “Chris is one of my favourite people alive. And he’s parts of Eddie, but he’s parts of you too. You brought him into the world, and looked after him. I’ll always love you for that.”

Her expression is shining, and overwhelmed. “Thank you, Buck. For what it’s worth, I think we would’ve been friends like this. Eventually.”

He chuckles wetly. “I think so too.”

They move apart again, and lean back in their loungers.

He turns on his side to look at her. She turns to look at him.

“I’m not judging, because I know you loved him so much,” Buck starts.

Shannon gives him a crooked smile. “Even if you were, it can’t really hurt me now.”

This occurs to him. “True.”

He watches her. “You left because of your mom. How…how’d you make that decision? And what happened, after? I’ve always wondered, and Eddie can’t give me the reality of how you felt, and I guess, you’re here…”

Shannon watches him back, curiously. “I’m surprised you’re not asking why or if it was hard.”

“Those seem a little…redundant,” Buck replies, immediately. “I know why, broadly, and of course it was hard. It’s Chris.”

She smiles at him, wistfully. “I do wish I’d known you better, now.”

He shrugs against the chair. “I mean, before we met, all I knew was the aftermath with Chris and Eddie. And it was easy to side with Eddie. I’ve just been…thinking about you in the last few years. Especially this year. And how young you were. And how I made a lot of shitty decisions for much less noble reasons when I was older than you were.”

She pauses. “Thanks, Buck.”

He watches her eyes land on something in the distance. “I was eighteen when he was born. I was turning nineteen that year but I’m an October baby, so he came a lot closer to eighteen than nineteen.”

“Jesus,” Buck breathes out. “I knew Eddie was nineteen, somehow I never thought about if you were younger.”

“Yeah,” she says, elongating it. “And he was gone for most of it. You know how many fucking Juno jokes I heard while I was pregnant? I was three months on my eighteenth birthday. Thank God we managed to wait until after graduation.”

“Was Juno in Texas?” he asks. “Sorry, not important.”

Shannon’s smile perks up. “Midwest, I think. Although you’d assume so. Although she does at least have the option for an abortion in the movie, so. Maybe not.”

“Yeah, true,” Buck thinks. “Sorry to say I don’t think it’s gotten any better.”

Shannon sighs. “Sounds about right.” She’s quiet for a moment and turns back to look up at the sky. “I never regretted, for a moment, the having him. I love everything he is. But I didn’t have the…option,” she says, very quietly. “Texas. My mom and I weren’t wealthy, and besides, Eddie’s family would’ve been horrified, even though they didn’t want me to have ruined his life with the whole getting pregnant thing either.”

“I’m sorry,” Buck says, because he is and what else can he say? He’s so grateful she had a baby so young, but aware that the circumstances were largely out of her control, and she died not knowing who she might’ve been otherwise. It sucks.

“Thank you,” she says, simply. “In the end, I was in love. And I hung onto the idea that he’d be home soon, and we’d be a family. So I wanted the baby, by and large.”

“What did your mom think?” Buck asks. “I know mine would’ve flipped if I got someone pregnant at that age.”

“I think she was a little disappointed…I think she hoped I’d do more, get out, you know?” Shannon reminisces. “But she was very supportive. A lot more than Eddie’s parents.”

“When did she move away?”

“Just after my eighteenth birthday, actually.” She smiles, slowly. “She didn’t wanna go, but she’d gotten this fantastic job out here. Like, really, a dream for her. She was gonna turn it down and I told her no way. I couldn’t bear her to give it up for me. And Eddie’s family were so desperate for me not to leave the state with her they offered me to live with them.”

She pauses. “I mean, living with my overbearing mother-in-law and my husband’s little sisters who were still in school wasn’t ideal, but it was that or nothing if I was gonna stay in Texas. And I wanted to stay in Texas, because I had this dream that Eddie would finish his tour, and then we’d buy a house - just a little one - with his GI money.”

Buck leans back in the lounger, feeling for her. “Must’ve really hurt when he re-enlisted.

“Yeah, it did at the time,” she says, quietly.

Buck considers it. “I love him, but he - less now, but - he has had a habit of keeping things to himself. Important things. Not telling you how he feels until he’s made some big choice and it’s too late.” He sighs. “Once, he quit work. Didn’t tell me. Sprung it on us at Christmas. I had no way of knowing it wasn’t forever.”

Shannon sucks in a breath in. “Yeah. He can get in his head about stuff.”

Buck nods. “Less so, now. He’s been in therapy for a long time. He talks to me more, we work through things.”  He freezes. “Am I a dick for saying that to you?”

Shannon shakes her head. “No. I’m glad he’s better now. I wish he could’ve gotten some help earlier, but with everything going on, it wasn’t gonna happen.”

“It’s really hard to get it working. Took me a long time. And one pretty unethical experience with one the first time I ever went,” he admits, not sure why he’s telling her that. He barely tells anyone that. But he’s worked through it more now.

“I’m sorry,” Shannon replies. “That’s shitty.”

“It was a long time ago. I was a lot more vulnerable,” Buck explains, lightly. Wherever he is right now, it doesn’t hurt so much.

“I understand that.”

They lie in the loungers. Buck listens to the sounds of the world around him. A plane flies overhead, high above them.

“So you left to look after your mom. What happened then?”

Shannon doesn’t seem offended by him wanting to know. “I figured - as awful as it was to leave - Eddie had his whole family. They could help with Chris, they were already overinvolved. Especially his mom. I knew she wouldn’t let him get hurt, if there were things about her that drove me mad, I always respected that she loved her grandson more than anything. And I couldn’t - think - about Eddie. He wasn’t thinking about me. We just both did what we had to do for ourselves in the end.”

“Yeah,” Buck says, quietly. “How old were you, then?”

“Twenty-two,” she says, matter-of-factly.

His heart sinks. “God. I was twenty, when I dropped everything and ran away. I thought I’d have my sister with me, and I didn’t, and I know how fucking scary it is on your own at that age. But she left me, I didn’t have to decide to leave anyone behind. I can’t imagine how hard…”

She’s quiet for a moment. “It was very hard. Hardest thing I’ve ever done. But my mom was alone, and she needed me. And I needed her, I missed her so much. And I never could’ve taken Chris away from Eddie, even though I desperately wanted to. He might have hated me for leaving, but I don’t think he would’ve ever forgiven that. Not to mention I’d probably have lost the custody battle.”

Buck turns to look at her. “I think losing Chris - just waking up one day to him gone - would’ve broken him. So as someone who loves them both - and might never have met them if you hadn’t left - I’m grateful that you left him. I think it was the kinder choice. And the whole thing was impossible.”

She nods, looking over at him. “Have you ever been somewhere where you can’t bear another day, like you’ll explode if you have to keep living like that, even when it looks fine from the outside?” 

He nods back. “You’re kind of describing my teen years.” He takes a moment. “My sister was the only one who made it bearable and then. She was gone.”

Shannon breathes out, understandingly.

“It’s not like they were abusive, or anything. I could just tell they didn’t like me, blamed me for Eddie going to war, for the loss of their hopes for him. Thought I wasn’t a good enough mother. Not that they said anything.”

Buck frowns, sympathetic. “No, just…disappointed looks, awkward silences, right? I’m basically fluent.”

Shannon’s expression is sympathetic. “I’m sorry your parents sucked.”

He shrugs. “They’re…getting better, I guess? But they’ll always sort of be them. I don’t know.”

They’re both quiet for a while. The sun is going down but it’s not sunset. Buck has no idea how long they’ve been here.

“You said Eddie’s the only man you ever loved. There wasn’t anyone else?” Buck muses, as it occurs to him.

Shannon smiles, enigmatic again. “He was probably the love of my short life. But um…” she trails off, watching something in the backyard.

He waits, curious.

“There was a guy, near where my Mom lived. One of her neighbours. Farid. He’d bring her food sometimes, groceries, mail, before I got there. Sometimes after I was there. He was kind,” she says, kind of distantly wistful. Like it’s not something she longs for now, but once did. “And handsome. Not like Eddie, of course,” she says, with a grin.

Buck grins too. Eddie’s stupid handsome, it’s hard for most people to be that.

“But he was, in his way.”

Shannon has a soft, reminiscent expression on her face. “He was a grad student, about two years older. He was one of my only friends there. One of the only people I told about Chris. He helped…when it was hard.” She pauses. “By the time I had the mental capacity to try and contact Eddie, he didn’t want to talk to me. I knew he wouldn’t. But it hurt, realising how far away I was from my baby. My mom and I talked about it a lot, and she was so helpful, but as she got worse, I didn’t want to upset her. So, I confided in him. I’d spend most of my time with my mom when I wasn’t working - got a job in a diner, just to help her out - and after that, I’d go over to his place and we’d just talk for hours. He was studying history, particularly South Asia I think pre mid-20th century?”  She laughs. “God, I can’t believe I still know that.” She waits a beat. “He was so kind and understanding. And I was so lonely.”

“I understand that,” Buck replies. “I’m sorry you felt that way.”

“Thanks,” she replies, somewhat dreamily. “Long time ago now.”

He watches her. Sunlight is still highlighting her hair. “Did anything ever happen?”

“Yes, and no,” she explains, slowly. “We almost hooked up once, we were drinking, and it led to us making out a little. But I stopped it because I felt…guilty. Like, even though Eddie and I were separated, and he’d hurt me so much, I couldn’t leave him and sleep with someone else. That would be too much if we ever…”

Buck nods. “Yeah, I get that.” He thinks. “What happened with him after that?”

She shrugs. “We remained friends. He understood there was too much baggage, and stress with my mom to take it any further. Then my mom passed, he was supportive - as a friend - he started seeing someone else, and then they moved away together. A few months before I got Eddie’s call, actually.”

“That must have been weird,” Buck muses. “All of that and then Eddie comes back in your life. Did you know he was in LA?”

“I did,” she admits. “Sophia gave me a heads up. Thought I should know. She’s more of a softie than they give her credit for.”

Buck chuckles, softly. “She is.”

He pauses and turns his head to looks at her again. “Can I ask? Your mom didn’t die three years after you left, so…”

“Why’d I wait?” Shannon answers, cannily. She sighs. “I knew I wasn’t welcome. And I guess, the longer you put something off the harder it is?”

She pauses. “Of course I missed Chris. My baby. There wasn’t a single day away from him that I didn’t miss him.”

She takes a shaky breath in.

“I - I saw him almost every single day before that. I went to all the appointments, I was there for every terrifying surgery! I was there when he learned to walk and talk, I carried him with me, just the two of us, for nine goddamn months!”

She breathes in again, and out, steadier. It’s the most animated Buck has seen her here. It almost reminds him of her when he knew her in real life, snapping at Eddie at work about sleeping with her and keeping him away from her son. He’d of course felt more for Eddie - of course, he was always going to sympathise with Eddie first - but a part of him understood her rage and desperation. Wondered what it would’ve been like to have a mother need him back that badly, even if she’d left. Maybe he wouldn’t have been so hurt by his if she’d tried to come back to him at least. 

“I’m sorry,” Buck tries. “I know you did.”

Shannon blinks, and looks over at him, calmer. “I know. I - sometimes I feel waves of emotion from then. I know you’re not scolding me.” She’s quiet for a few moments. He waits. “Eddie wouldn’t reply when I tried to contact him, so I gave up for a while. I was grieving and it was all so heavy and I didn’t feel like I could tell him that. We weren’t close anymore. And I just kept working for a few months. Existing. Scooped out.”

Buck remembers Abby for a moment. The way she was scooped-out after her mother died. Going through the motions. Kindly, but ultimately emptily.

“My ex lost her mom, and she was like that after. I - sort of get it.”

Shannon gives him a small smile. “You’re a very understanding guy, Buck.”

“I try,” he replies because that’s all he can do. Try to understand and do better this time.

She keeps smiling, though it edges wistful again. “When I saw Eddie again, I don’t know. I don’t know what I was feeling. Grief. Disappointment. Love. I missed my best friend, and he was standing in front of me, and he was even more handsome than I remembered, and we just sort of…picked up again. I ignored how it had felt with Farid, even though we never slept together, how much more - right, it felt, in some ways. Because, somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew this was a step to getting my family back.”

“I think he felt the same,” Buck admits. “I think he was overwhelmed seeing you. I think he wanted your family back just as much.”

She chuckles. “Ah, well. I don’t regret the time we had together. I got my family back for a little while.”

“You did,” Buck agrees. “Did you - do you now - ever regret not feeling what it felt like with Farid? Not to be - gross.”

Shannon smiles at him, surprisingly mischievously. “You’re allowed a little of that. I’ll allow it.”

He chuckles.

“Yes and no,” she says again. “If I had really known what I know now. About Eddie. Maybe I would’ve done it, just to see how it felt different with someone who was - into me, in a properly interested way. But I don’t have any regrets now. I know Farid’s happy. I know Eddie’s happy.”

Buck smiles. “And you? Are you happy, wherever you are?”

Shannon smiles, pure and happy. “I am. I can’t explain it to you…But I’m not sitting around invisibly watching you, just so you know.”

Buck can’t help his cheeks flushing. It’s not something that had occurred to him, but all the same he’s very grateful that she wasn’t an invisible audience to what they got up to on the couch the other night. “That’s good.”

She laughs.

They lie back, staring at the sky.

“It’s been nice to be your friend,” Shannon says, softly. “Look after our family, ok?”

Buck turns to watch her again. “Of course.”

“Thank you,” she says, and blows him a kiss. “For Chris.”

He holds up a hand and catches it, squeezing his fist tight shut.

He blinks in the gloom, early morning, too early to get up. His nose is near enough to Eddie’s neck to smell his woodsy, fresh shower gel - the gel that Buck uses too, now that he’s here all the time - mixed with a little sweat, and he breathes it in. 

His arm is around Eddie’s waist. 

Eddie snuffles in his sleep. 

Buck doesn’t want to wake him, but he’s too disoriented to go back to sleep. 

He disentangles himself as quietly and as non-disruptively as possible, and then gets up. 

He goes to the kitchen, and gets himself a glass of water from the tap.

He drinks it, looking out the window. 

He’s remembering the dream, still so vivid in his mind. 

It had felt so real. 

She had felt so real, like she was right next to him. 

In the dream they’d built a firepit in the backyard, which was a little bigger than here. 

He breathes out. 

Why would he dream about that? 

Maybe it’s that he’s just moved in here a few weeks ago, and now they’re really all together as a family. Maybe it’s guilt. 

He finishes his water, takes a piss, and goes back to bed. 

He tries not to remember how real she seemed, her face in his memory like he’d just caught up with her. 

He burrows back into Eddie’s side, and falls asleep with seconds. 

He tries to be present during breakfast, cooks eggs for everyone, listens to their stories. But his mind is still on the dream.

He can still see it, her face. Her smile. The sense of deep friendship he had. The details are fading, but the feeling of affection and trust stay. In the dream, they’d trusted each other to be honest about some real intense things.

It’s kind of embarrassing, honestly, dreaming about your boyfriend’s late wife. Clearly his brain is trying to tell him something.

They both are able to drop Chris at school, a lucky occurrence of scheduling with their shifts aligning to give them some time in the morning.

“Have good day, Chris, love you,” Eddie says, as he gets back into the truck.

Chris rolls his eyes. “Bye Dad. Bye Buck. Have a good day.”

“Bye, Chris,” Buck says, distractedly. He feels – weird, discombobulated. Doesn’t want to focus on a silly dream or what it might mean.

“Can you believe this kid?” Eddie scoffs, as they leave the school parking lot. “Rolling his eyes at me. Because I’m embarrassing him with affection. He should be so lucky.”

“Uh, yeah,” Buck replies, not really focused.

“Are you alright?” Eddie asks, mildly, pulling out onto the road. “You’ve been kind of quiet and distracted all morning. Something on your mind?”

Buck shakes his head. He’s not really sure if it’s worth bringing up, and it might just make Eddie sad. And he hates to do that. “No, just – slept weirdly. Just tired.”

“You sure?” Eddie follows-up, gently.

Buck puts on a smile wider than he really feels. “Yeah. You wanna get some breakfast?”

Eddie chuckles, and for a moment, Buck feels less weird. “We just had breakfast.”

“But what about second breakfast?” Buck tries, in a horrendous attempt to copy that one hobbit’s accent.

Eddie shakes his head, grinning. “I think it was a mistake for us all to watch those Lord of the Rings movies last month.”

“Well, blame the boy, he was the one who demanded it. That shit was long,” Buck says, even though he’d largely enjoyed them. Chris had been really into it, and that had been the best part for him. Although that Aragorn guy had been a pleasant surprise, too. And the elf-lady, whatever her name was, was so beautiful. And badass. 

“You’re telling me,” Eddie sighs. “Although I didn’t mind getting to look at that Aragorn guy for the five hundred hours of those movies, I will say. Talk about your artful scruff. And those eyes.” 

Buck grins. “I’ve seen you work similarly artful scruff. If we found a good enough wig, you grow out your beard a bit, you could do a very sexy Aragorn costume for Halloween.”

Eddie chuckles. “Right, yeah. Who would you be, the dwarf? Or the pretty boy elf?”

Buck laughs. “While I am a pretty boy, and thank you for mentioning it, I’d obviously have to go as the badass elf lady, like in the bit with those scary demon-ghost-horseback guys. Because we have to be the couple. And she’s hot.”

Eddie grins. “Well, I think we’d have to include Chris as one of the hobbits or he’d never speak to us again, make it a family costume. You think he’s too old for it?”

He feels a kick of hot guilt in his stomach, and refuses to think about it, but can’t help his smile slipping. “Uh, no. Sure he’d – love it.”

Eddie gives him a curious look but doesn’t press it.

When they get home from breakfast, Eddie puts his keys in the little tray by the front door that Buck got them.

The sight of it makes Buck feel another swoop in his stomach like he’s at the top of a drop on a rollercoaster.

“So, uh,” he starts, turning to Eddie. “I believe we have some laundry to tackle.”

Eddie smirks, in a distinctly private way. “Yeah, definitely. But first I just gotta take care of something, real quick,” he says, and leans in to kiss Buck.

Buck isn’t expecting it, even though this set-up is hardly unfamiliar to him, and he jerks back slightly. He can’t get her face out of his mind.

Eddie pulls back, and his beautiful dark eyes are hurt, which only makes Buck feel a worse swoop of guilt.

“Did I forget to brush my teeth or something?” he says, less angry than sort of disbelieving.

“No,” Buck says, immediately. “It’s not you. I’m sorry.”

Eddie’s expression shifts into worry. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been weird all morning. What don’t you wanna tell me?”

Buck bites his lip, guiltily. “I had a weird dream.”

Eddie looks confused again. “You won’t kiss me because you had a weird dream?”

Buck sighs and makes eye contact with him again. “It was about Shannon.”

Whatever he’d been expecting Buck to say, it clearly wasn’t this.

“I didn’t think you remembered her enough,” he says, after a moment, a little nonsensically.

“Neither did I,” Buck admits.

“What happened, in the dream?” Eddie asks, the emotions of his expression fighting each other. “Can I ask?”

Buck thinks. “We were in the backyard, drinking cocktails. But not our backyard, some slightly bigger, fancier house. There was a…fire pit? And it just –” he breathes out, guiltily. “It felt like we’d been friends for a long time. We just talked and talked. Just the two of us, I think you were inside.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, still sounding struck. “Wow.”

Buck bites his lip. “I know this sounds dumb, but it felt really real. Like even after I woke up. I could smell the food cooking in the kitchen, and I could hear the music playing – Buena Vista Social Club – and she was real in front of me. I felt her when she hugged me.” He sighs. “That’s why I’ve been weird. It just reminded me that she didn’t get what I have now.”

Eddie blinks, and Buck feels awfully guilty. Then he smiles. “Your heart really is too big, Buck. I know what this is.”

“What is it?”

Buck thinks he knows already, but he’s curious.

“You’re feeling guilty, since you moved in and we’re all even more close. Some part of you feels bad for having what she can’t,” he proposes, gently. “But her death was not my fault, or yours, or Chris’. It was just a terrible accident.”

Buck nods, and Eddie nods back before he hugs him, like permission. Which is sweet, but Buck hates that he made him second guess whether Buck wants it, like he ever doesn’t ninety-nine percent of the time.

He holds Eddie back tightly, and Eddie kisses him. Just a soft one, once. 

When they pull back, Eddie’s eyes are still a little damp, but he’s smiling so genuinely. “Funny thing is, I think you would’ve gotten along well, if you’d actually gotten to know each other. You’re similar in some ways.”

Buck thinks about Shannon laughing in the dream. The warmth of her friendship. “Yeah, that would’ve been nice.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, wistfully. “Alright, the laundry really needs to go on.”

Buck smiles. “After you.”

Chris sits in class, reflecting on this morning. Buck had definitely been a little weird this morning. But as his therapist used to tell him, everyone has their off days. And Dad and him had definitely been through enough upsetting things to have bad days, sometimes.

He wonders what he can do to cheer Buck up. Maybe he can play MarioKart with him and let him win. He doesn’t really have any money to buy him something, and he doesn’t have much way of getting anywhere by himself.

Maybe Dad will agree to help him find something to cheer Buck up. He’ll ask him at pickup.

But when he gets out of school, Buck’s old Jeep is waiting for him. “Buck, I didn’t think you were coming today?”

“Are you disappointed?” Buck teases, lifting him up into the seat. Chris appreciates that he generally lets him do a lot without intervening, but it’s tough to navigate climbing up into the Jeep with crutches.

“No,” Chris says, rolling his eyes.

Buck grins. “Your dad had to run out and help Tia Pepa with something.” He drops his voice conspiratorially. “But, this means we can go to In-N-Out if you want. And you eat all your dinner and can keep it between us.”

“Really?” Chris asks, excited. “Ok, I promise I’ll eat all my dinner.”

“Good man,” Buck says, and it makes Chris smile a little. They’re trying to not infantilise him, and he appreciates it, even if it’s just little by little.

On the way to In-N-Out, they listen to Buck’s driving playlist, and Chris pretends to be embarrassed by his singing. It is embarrassing, but he also loves it (not that he would admit it). Mom used to sing along to music like that, and her voice was definitely better, but she didn’t really care. She was just - excited about it, like Buck is. Sometimes he can’t believe that they really get to keep Buck like this, like he really gets to be the other parent Chris has felt like he’s been since Mom passed, but somehow knew not to say it. Somehow knew that would make Dad make that face, the guilty one. Somehow knew it would upset Buck in some way.

He didn’t know Dad and Buck were in love, really, because he was a kid and what kid really understands the concept of romantic love other than their parents being together, or in movies. And his parents were apart more in his memories than they were together, but they seemed - they seemed good, when they were together. Before she passed. But he knew, kind of, that they felt some kind of way about each other, because Buck was around a lot and Dad was always happier when he was.

It was weird, for a moment, figuring out how that fit in with what he remembered of Mom and Dad together. Realising that they weren’t that happy even when they were back together, and figuring out why that was.

He wasn’t in any way horrified or disgusted to find out Dad was gay. Lots of people are gay. Denny’s moms are gay. He’s lived in LA for several years and he’s thirteen now, it’s not all that shocking to him.

But it was - for a brief moment - a horrible feeling, realising that the teenage pregnancy of his parents that he’d always assumed was because they loved each other too much was in fact, something that maybe shouldn’t have happened at all. Maybe they both would’ve been happier without him.

But Buck talked him through it - surprisingly, he’d also experienced that horrible feeling, and he helped Chris see it another way. This is why it couldn’t be anyone but Buck, really. It had to be him, in their little family.

They eat their burgers in the car, listening to music.

“Thanks, Buck,” Chris says, at some point.

Buck smiles. “No problem, bud.”

Chris turns his head to him, finishing off his burger. “Are you alright?”

Buck whips around. “Why do you ask?”

“You seemed a little…sad this morning. I don’t know,” Chris continues. “Is there anything I can do?”

Buck’s expression splits into a wide, warm smile. “You are the world’s best kid, you know that? But no, I’m alright. Just didn’t sleep all that well.”

Chris relaxes more. “Ok, good.”

It’s sunny, and Chris hopes he put on sunscreen enough not to burn. Dad always makes a point not to forget it, and he can get burnt but it’s way less obvious on him. He’s not going tomato-pink-red. 

It’s not stinkingly hot, though. It’s the kind of sunny day you wanna spend at the beach, where the sun doesn’t feel like its actively doing you damage, it feels like a gift. 

The sky is blue and nearly cloudless. The Pacific Ocean laps at the shores of Santa Monica Beach invitingly. This ocean would never hurt him. Or Buck. It could never become like that awful wave, it’s too friendly right now. 

“Alright, baby. Do you think it can support another storey, or is that pushing our luck?” 

Chris turns his head. He has something to say to that, but it dies in his throat. 

“Mom?” 

Mom smiles at him, happily. She looks exactly as she did that time they were at the beach, all three of them, and she wore the same pink dress with the little white flowers, or stars, that she’s wearing in front of him now. 

She was so happy that day. Dad was so happy that day. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” she asks, bemused like he’s about to tell her something he learned in school. 

There’s something weird about this, if only he could just -

He just can’t - 

He needs to - 

“How are you here? How are either of us here?” he blurts out. 

Mom’s smile doesn’t change, but she shrugs. “Why do you think we are?” 

He doesn’t answer. “You - you died. When I was eight. How are you here?” 

His voice shakes a little, even though it’s been five years without her and he doesn’t cry just thinking about it now. 

Her smile falters a little. “Oh, baby,” she says, softly, and it reminds him so much of being a little kid he almost flinches. “I can answer some questions. But where are we right now, to you?” 

Chris looks around. It’s Santa Monica Beach, but on one of the most perfect days he’s ever seen it. Perfect sand, perfect blue sky, no clouds. 

“When we went to the beach together,” he tells her, more and more certain. “But Dad was here.” 

Mom nods. “He was. This is just for us, though. Is that ok?” 

“Of course,” he says quickly, like she’s going to disappear if he isn’t ok with it. 

He can hear kids in the background, distantly. And seagulls. 

He can even smell the salt of the water, and the coconut scent of her sunscreen. 

It unlocks something in him, in the way that smells can be a shortcut to remembering something. He remembers reading something about that. 

He feels his eyes filling with hot tears, and he throws his arms around her. She makes a surprised noise and then wraps him up tightly. She smells the same as she did. Her arms are real as they ever were. 

“I missed you so much, Mom,” he says, to her shoulder. 

“I missed you more, my baby,” she replies, and her voice seems as tight and emotional as him. 

He hugs her for a while. He’s not sure how long. Just a while. 

He lets her go. “How are you here?” he asks, curious as ever. “Are you a ghost? Is this like a Dia de los Muertos thing?” 

She chuckles, sounding delighted. “I’m so glad you haven’t lost any of that inquisitive spirit, Chris.” 

Still not an answer, though. 

She smiles at him, but not in the way where adults do when they want you to stop asking questions. Which he doesn’t get from Dad or Buck, he has to admit. But certain well-meaning adults at school. 

“Sweetheart, I said I could answer some of your questions, right?” she says, easily. “That’s not one of them. But you can ask me almost anything else.” She reaches over to stroke his arm. “Or we can just sit and build sandcastles.” 

“Can we do both?” he asks. 

She laughs again. “Of course we can.” 

They work on the sandcastle while Chris thinks up a question. Wherever they are right now, his sandcastle skills are like five hundred times better than usual. He doesn’t mind it. 

“Are you ok? Wherever you are?” Chris finds himself blurting out. He’s not sure he wants to know, really, if she’s hanging around. But he can’t bear not to ask. “Are you haunting us, and we just can’t see you?” 

Mom’s expression goes sad for a moment, and then she smiles again, softly. “Are you worried about that?” 

Chris shrugs. “I don’t know. Kinda, now?” 

Mom shakes her head. “Trust me, baby, that’s not what this is. I can’t - explain. But I am ok. I’m happy. And I’m not stuck watching you all living your lives.” 

Chris lets out a shaky breath. “Ok. I’m really glad to hear it.” 

Mom reaches over to take his hand and squeeze it. He squeezes back, as much as he can.

“God, you’re so big now. My baby’s a teenager, that’s insane,” Mom says, watching him with soft eyes. “You were this big two minutes ago,” she continues, pinching her forefinger and thumb together. 

He laughs. “Mom! I was never that small!” 

She laughs. “I swear, you were! You were the size of an olive, and now you’re a teenager. And your hair is getting scruffy,” she teases, leaning over to ruffle it. 

“Mo-oom,” he groans, and he actually couldn’t care less about her doing it - even welcomes it - but he never got a chance to pretend to be annoyed by her affection, and in a way it feels nice. Like a gift. The same thing that Buck and Dad get from him more and more now. 

She laughs apologetically, and takes her hand back. “I’m sorry!” 

He grins. “It’s ok.”

He looks over at her. “Was I really ever the size of an olive?” 

Mom smiles and nods. “A few weeks into my pregnancy - I think about ten weeks? I went to a doctor’s appointment, and she told me that you were currently the size of an olive.”

Chris wrinkles his nose. “I don’t like olives. Did she say any other fruits?” 

Mom grins. “Oh, let me see. You were a lime, and then a kiwi, a peach, an orange. A mango. A potato.” 

“They really liked comparing babies to food, huh?” Chris says, thinking about it and grinning. “Weird. Did Dad say anything to you after the doctor was telling you guys about that? I think he would’ve found it hard not to laugh.” 

Mom’s expression shifts a tiny bit wistful. “Yeah, he - he did laugh, when I updated him. When we were able to talk.” 

Chris cocks his head, confused, and then realises. Of course, stupid. “He was already in the army by then? By what food?” 

Mom seems like she doesn’t know what to say. 

“Mom, you said,” he reminds her. 

“Olive,” she says, softly. 

Chris mood falls. “That was so soon, though. That’s like, two and half months in and he was already gone? When did you get married?” 

Mom gives him an empathetic look. “Don’t be mad at him. I’ve done enough of that for both of us. He was doing what he thought was best for the both of us.” 

“How?” Chris finds himself saying, annoyed at the thought in a way he doesn’t think he’s ever been, consciously.

Mom stays understanding and steady. He doesn’t quite remember her being this steady. He remembers her love and her warmth and her laugh, but even when her and Dad were together - thinking on it now he’s older - they were never quite calm and steady like this, even when they weren’t fighting. And they fought less in those last months. 

She takes his hand in both of hers this time. “It’s maybe hard to explain, but you’re older now, and you’re a smart kid. We were teenagers, with very little real-world experience. We’d both had jobs, but we didn’t really have money, not the kind a family needs. And we didn’t want to have to rely on our parents forever. Your dad especially, I think, felt like he needed us to have money, so you wouldn’t just be another child your grandparents could raise. The army seemed like the easiest way someone without a college degree or years of work experience could make some money.” 

Chris thinks about this for a moment. “I guess I get why he did it. I love Grandma, and Abuelo, but I know they hurt Dad, now. He’s never said why we left Texas, just that he got into the firehouse here, but I know it was something to do with them. I remember - he asked me if I missed him when he was working, and I said something like, I always miss you. And then we left and it was me and him together.” 

He pauses, staring out at the ocean. “I think the army really hurt him too. He really -” he starts, and stops, emotion rising. “He really scared me. I thought he was going to - ” 

Chris doesn’t finish the sentence. Mom holds his hand tightly, eyes wet. “Why did he go to something that hurt him like that? Did he do it for us?” 

Mom turns to him. 

“Oh honey, you’re so young to have been dealing with this stuff. It’s complicated. He went for us, and I don’t think he thought it would hurt him so much. He was so young, and he felt like there was such pressure on him, I don’t think he even thought about what effect it might have on him.” 

Mom drops his hand, and Chris moves so he can lean against her shoulder. She wraps her arm around his shoulder. “I’m sad it happened. But he’s a lot better now. Thanks to therapy. And Buck.” 

He sits up, guiltily. “Is it ok for me to talk about Buck?” 

Mom smiles, like she knows something he doesn’t. “Why wouldn’t it be?” 

He frowns. “Because…he’s with Dad now. And he’s…sort of like another dad to me.” 

Mom doesn’t seem at all upset with this. “I know, honey,” she says, easily. “And I’m glad. My biggest fear was leaving you alone. You and Dad, but especially you. You were so young.” 

Chris swats at his eyes. He feels for a moment like the eight year old he was, sensing this immense grief from Dad before he told him. Knowing, somehow, that things were about to change again and this time they’d never change back again. 

She sighs softly, pulling him back to her. “But I had one last stroke of luck, that you had someone who could be there for both of you. Who has enough love in him for the both of you. How could I be upset at that?” 

Chris cheers a little at this. “Really?” 

Mom smiles, happily. “Really really. I like him. He’s funny.” 

Chris smiles. “He is. His sense of humour is silly, but we love it.” Something occurs to him. “I don’t remember him being around you much. Did you know him?” 

Mom looks sort of mysterious at this. “Not much then.” 

He doesn’t really understand, but he senses this is one of the things that she can’t answer, so he just sits and lays his head on her shoulder. 

“I got into this book series, just after you…” he starts, slowly. “Dad started reading them to me, and then sometimes Buck would be over and he’d read some, and we got really into them. Especially Buck and I, because he said he would’ve loved having these books when he was a kid. He said he related to the main character.” 

“What was it about?” Mom asks, prompting him interestedly. 

“It was about this kid who has ADHD and he’s not great at school, and then he finds out actually he’s the son of Poseidon.” 

“Greek God of the sea,” Mom adds, arm around him still. They both stare out at the waves. “Sounds very cool.” 

“It is,” Chris agrees. “His mom has him young, and her relationship with Poseidon is complicated, because he can’t just settle down with a mortal. So he has to leave, and she raises him on her own.” 

“Oh?” Mom says, softly. 

“Percy - the main character - loses her early into the book, when she gets spirited into the underworld after getting caught by a minotaur.” 

“Oh.” Mom rubs his arm. 

“Both Dad and Buck asked if I wanted to stop reading it, if it would make me sad, but I loved it anyway. He goes on this quest to get down to the underworld to bring her back,” Chris explains. “They made a show of it recently, and we watched it, and we loved it. There are movies, but I only watched the first one and I didn’t like it, anyway, not important -”

Mom squeezes his arm lightly. “Everything you say is important to me.” 

He curls into her more, like when he was younger. He sniffs. “There’s this bit in the show, where he comes back after the quest, and she comes out of the other room and he runs up to her and hugs her.” He sniffs again, more violently. 

He pulls out of her grip lightly so he can look at her. “If there was an underworld to go to, you know I’d go without a thought, right Mom? I’d be as brave as him.” 

She smiles at him, wistful. “I know. No dice, unfortunately. And you might be shooting up like a weed, but you’re still a kid. I wouldn’t want you to do that.”

He feels himself start to cry. 

“Oh, Chris,” she says, and pulls him to her again. 

Once he’s had a moment, he sits up again. His throat is still tight. “When I watched it, I missed you. But I didn’t miss you in the painful way that I did for ages. And now Buck’s moved in, and I love him because he’s been there, and he’s helped so much, and he saved my life, but I just - I feel like I replaced you.” 

He puts his hands up to his face. Mom takes his hands and gently pulls them away. “You didn’t replace me,” she says, matter-of-factly. “You wouldn’t have replaced me if your Dad had married a woman, and she’d become a person you loved as much as me or your Dad. But you certainly haven’t replaced me with him. I mean, he’s 6’2” and full of muscles, for one, we’re pretty different!” 

Chris chuckles wetly. 

Mom grins, and then her expression softens. “You’re allowed to miss me, and for that hurt to become smaller the further you get from it. I wouldn’t want it to eat you up. You’re also allowed to love someone as much as you loved me. It’s an infinite resource, you can give it to both of us.”

Chris watches her warm eyes, and the freckle on her nose. “I miss you all the time. But it is different now. And Buck’s made Dad so much less lonely. And…me. Even before they got together, he always cared about me, he was always excited to see me, not just Dad. We’re best friends.” 

“He’s very lucky,” Mom replies, warmly. “He saved your life just down from here, right? He’ll always have my approval to be your parent. And one of your best friends.” 

“Yeah,” Chris says, looking down towards the pier in the distance. Then he glances back at Mom. “How do you know that? It was after…” 

She smiles mysteriously again. “I just do.” Her eyes go to the distant pier too. “He’s a brave man. Like your Dad. I’m glad he’s in your life. He’d protect you with everything he had.” 

“He would. He has. And Dad too,” Chris agrees, quietly. “He broke a door down to get to Dad once.” 

“I think your Dad needs someone like that. I’m glad your Buck loves him that much,” she says, taking his hand. If this were - somewhere else - maybe Chris would think this is her being polite, or maybe sarcastic. But here, he can tell she genuinely means it. Maybe if she’d lived - maybe - she and Dad and Buck could’ve been like Harry’s parents and Bobby. Friends? Maybe. 

It’s his fantasy, he’s not hurting anyone if he imagines it might have turned out well. 

He squeezes her hand. “Can I ask you something?” 

“I’ll try my best to answer,” she says, squeezing back. “But what I can answer, I’ll answer honestly.” 

“Thank you,” Chris tells her. 

He looks out at the waves. He can hear families in the distance but he doesn’t try to look for them. 

He takes a breath. 

“Did you know about Dad? Before I was born?” 

Mom lets out a breath. “Oh honey,” she breathes out. “I - no.” She waits a moment. “I don’t think he really knew. Or wanted to acknowledge it, I don’t know. It was Texas in the early-mid 2000s. But I don’t think he was consciously keeping it from me in school.” 

Chris nods slowly. “He’s so much happier now. And I’m glad he’s happy, because I’ve seen him at times he’s been really sad, and it was…awful.” Chris shudders. “But I - felt for a while like I ruined his life. If I hadn’t been born, you guys might’ve realised you shouldn’t be together. And he might’ve been a lot happier. He wouldn’t have gone to war.” 

“Honey, you know that’s not your fault, right? Everything has to happen in its own time,” Mom says, squeezing his hand in hers. “And ultimately, he chose to enlist. He didn’t choose what happened to him because of it, but he was an adult.” 

“I know,” Chris says, voice tight. Here it is, the worst fear. The fear he thought he’d never at least get an answer to. Until now. He stares out at the sea until his vision blurs. “But you didn’t choose to be pregnant, Mom. Did I - did I ruin your life?” 

Shannon abandons his hand to throw her arms around him tightly. “Sweetheart,” she says, emotionally, kissing his head. “Not in a million years would I think that. Did I think that.” 

She lets go of him to grab his face in her hands and look at him seriously. “You were the best thing I ever created in my entire life.” 

He watches her, blinking. “Why’d - why’d you leave then - the first time?” 

It’s not a fair question at all. But he was too young to really ask about it when she came back. All he knew was that she’d gone away, and it made Dad sad, and tired, if he asked about it. Made Abuelo and Grandma frown and mutter things under their breath he never could catch. And then she was back, and he had no reason to think it wouldn’t be forever. 

Mom seems a little taken aback. “Your Dad didn’t tell you?” 

“No, no, he did,” Chris rushes to explain himself. “And - and I get it. It was your mom. I would’ve done the same for you.” 

Mom’s eyes are watery. “Chris…”

He feels his eyes go hot again. “Why couldn’t we go with you?” 

“Oh baby,” she says, sighing. She lets go of his face and takes his hand again. 

She looks out at the ocean. “I would’ve loved to have you with me. But Dad - he was under pressure, working a lot, and we - we weren’t getting along well. He didn’t want to leave his family and his life in Texas. I knew I couldn’t take you away from all of that. Your life, your family. Dad.” 

She squeezes his hand. Tears are running down his cheeks, he can feel it. He doesn’t try to wipe them. “I’m sorry, Mom.” 

She turns back to him, and her eyes are full of tears too. “Why are you sorry?” 

His throat is tight. “I know it must have been hard for you. Because I’m - I made it hard for you.” 

She looks at him very seriously, with the steeliest eyes he can ever remember on her. “Don’t you dare apologise for anything you are. I love everything about you, ok?” 

“Ok,” he mumbles.

She squeezes his hand, and her voice is small when she speaks again. “I’m the one that’s sorry, Chris.” 

He watches her, frowning. “You don’t need to be.” 

She shakes her head. “I do. I loved you so much - I still love you so much - and I missed you more than anything every single day I was away from you.” 

Chris’ heart thumps painfully. 

She casts her eyes down at the sandcastle, and begins to speak, her voice small with shame.

“But I was so young, and I felt like it was all up to me to raise you while your Dad was away from us. I wanted to help my Mom, but I…had to get out, for a while. For my health.

She looks back up at him, eyes glistening.

“I never meant it to be so long, though, I’m so sorry.” 

She’s crying again. He’s crying. He lets go of her hand to hug her again. He never wants to stop hugging her.

“I forgive you,” he says, wetly. “And if you needed to leave for your mental health, maybe that was better than staying and having a breakdown. Dad tried to push through, like he always did, and he finally hit a wall.” 

She holds him to her a few moments longer. Then she lets him go. “Your dad did always do that,” she says, softly. “I’m glad he’s doing better. And he’s happy.” 

“He is,” Chris tells her. 

They look out at the ocean together, her hand in his.

“I want to know more about you,” Chris finds himself saying.

“What do you wanna know?”

He thinks. “Tell me about where you grew up.”

“Ok,” she says, thoughtfully. “Well, you know I was born in Oregon, right?”

He nods. “Yeah, I remember you telling me that.”

“So, I was born in Portland, but I grew up in a town called Eugene.”

“Eugene?” Chris asks, with a laugh. “Your town was called Eugene?”

Mom grins. “Oh, that’s nothing. We lived in a suburb called Friendly.”

Chris laughs more. “Friendly? Was everyone?”

Mom laughs. “As I remember, yeah. Mostly.” She laughs again. “The crazy part is that it was named for a former mayor, I think.”

“You’re kidding,” Chris insists, cracking up.

“True. Sam Friendly,” Mom tells, him, and she can’t keep it together either.

Chris is laughing so hard at this his ribs are hurting. Mom is laughing too.

After a while, he gets it together. “What did you do in Friendly, then?”

Mom sighs, but she sounds happy. “I was friends with some kids in the neighbourhood. We used to go adventuring in the woods, play in this creek near my house.”

Chris imagines it. “That sounds so cool. There’s not really woods near our house. Plus it’d be hard for me. But it sounds really fun.”

Mom rubs his arm. “More fun than your video games?”

Chris laughs. “Ok, ok.” He turns back to her. “Tell me more about it.”

Mom smiles, happily. “We would catch tadpoles and look for buried treasure. We were like the Goonies.”

Chris gives her a blank look. “I don’t know who they are.”

“I’m shocked,” Mom teases. “You should watch it, you’d like it. It’s about these kids looking for buried treasure.”

“Ok, Mom,” he says, grinning. “So, you really loved the outdoors as a kid?”

Mom nods. “I loved the outdoors. Loved exploring.”

She lifts up her left arm. “My friend Lisa taught me to skateboard, and I did that a lot until I broke my wrist going down a hill.”

“You skateboarded?” Chris is surprised by this. He supposes he never really thought of her as a girl, playing and getting into trouble. She was always Mom.

“All the time, for a while.” Mom seems happy, remembering this.

Chris thinks of the skateboard incident. “I tried to skateboard at school once. My friend let me but I fell off immediately. I wasn’t even that hurt but Dad was so mad at my teacher, he said she should’ve been watching.”

“Sounds like she should’ve been,” Mom agrees, poking him in the side. “You’re precious cargo. I might have acted the same way.”  

Chris squirms away, grinning. “It wasn’t her fault, she was really nice. But Dad and Buck came up with a way that I could skateboard. They built an adaptative one for me. And I never fell off again.”

Mom’s eyes are misty, but she smiles wide and genuine. “Aw, that’s so lovely of them.” She chuckles. “I didn’t fall off again, but I kind of stopped because I knew it stressed my mom out. She was a good mom.”

Chris watches her face when she says this. It’s not painful for her to say. Maybe they’re together now. “What was she like? I don’t remember her.”

Mom smiles, and this one is a little more wistful. “Oh, she was warm, and generous, and funny. She was always there to comfort me. I wish you’d gotten to know her more. She loved you so much, honey.”

Chris has the thought that maybe he’ll ask Dad if they have photos of her. There have to be some in the few boxes of Mom’s things that they have.

“You were really close?”

Mom nods. “It was kind of her and me against the world, most of my life. My dad left when I was very young, and he never came back.” She frowns. “Hate that I followed in his footsteps.”

Chris takes her hand. “It’s not the same. You went to help her. And you came back.”

Mom squeezes his hand. “You’re too kind, kid. I love you.”

“I love you, Mom,” Chris says, and leans into her side again.

They talk for a while, silly things, seeing if they can see cargo ships or anything in the distance.

“…he did not like me that first day. And I was not thrilled with him,” Mom laughs. “But then we bonded over school stuff, and we got really close. Before I had to move.”

Chris thinks about that. About his parents, just older than he is now, becoming friends. Not knowing everything that was coming. He kind of wants to see a photo of them then.  

“Do you think Dad has any photos from when you were that age?” Chris asks.

Mom looks thoughtful. “Facebook, maybe. Unless they’ve deactivated my account. Or there’s some photobooth strips from the county fair, we went to one that year. I think I kept it.”

Chris nods. “I’ll find it.” He thinks, looking out at the ocean. “Dad, Buck and I took photobooth pics that we have on our fridge at this fair we went to when I was nine, I think?”

“Aw, that sounds cute. I wish I could see them,” Mom replies, fondly.

 Chris grins. “Dad and Buck are making really dumb faces in one. They’re so silly sometimes.”

Mom grins. “Your dad can be, but he wouldn’t allow himself to be, a lot of the time. I’m glad he does now.”

Chris nods. “Yeah, he does.”

They watching the waves.

“Did he like Buck the first time they met?” Mom asks, after a moment, sounding curious.

Chris grins at the memory. “I don’t know. I remember him telling me that everyone at work was nice, except this one guy, but he didn’t care that much.” 

Mom sounds amused. “Buck didn’t like him originally? Why?” 

Chris thinks. “I asked Buck a while back when Dad was teasing him about it, and he said he was just jealous. And his girlfriend had left him a few months ago, but they hadn’t properly broken up, so he was very sad. It didn’t last very long. Buck barely ever stays mad.” 

“What did you think of him when you met him?” Mom asks, curiously, turning her head to him. 

Chris smiles again. 

“The first time I met him was just after Dad started, I think? There was this big earthquake - it was the first one I ever felt in LA. It wasn’t all that scary at school but Dad couldn’t pick me up for ages because he was working to help people in it. And finally Dad got there and gave me the biggest hug and I was really happy to see him - ”

Mom squeezes his hand and smiles. 

“And then he took me outside, and it wasn’t our car. His friend from work had driven him to pick me up so he wouldn’t have to wait longer to see me.” 

Mom squeezes his hand again. “Wow.” 

“Yeah,” Chris remembers fondly. “And he was so funny, and friendly. Like, some adults try too hard, especially with me. Or they don’t really know how to deal with me. Especially when I was a little kid. But he was just like, talking to me in the backseat, and telling me all these cool facts about animals, because I said we’d been learning about animals at school and I liked them.”    

Mom smiles more. “He’s a sweet guy. I’m glad you guys met him.” 

“Me too,” Chris agrees. “Only took them six years after that to get together.” 

Mom laughs, surprised. “Brutal.” 

Chris turns to her. “Not to say - I mean technically I don’t think it was really something either of them were aware of for ages, definitely not while you - “ 

Mom shakes her head, smiling. “It’s ok. I know your Dad loved me, and I loved him, even if things were…complicated. And maybe it was in a different way.” 

Chris nods, and looks out at the ocean. “Can you tell me how you and Dad met? I know the basics, but I don’t know the story.” 

“You want the story? Ok then,” Mom says, squeezing his hand. “Let’s see…” 

She’s in thoughtful silence for a moment. “You know we started dating in senior year, right?” 

Chris nods. “But you met in ninth grade.”

“Correct.”

“Why’d it take you so long to date then?”

Mom laughs. 

“Well, I wasn’t in El Paso the whole time,” she tells him. “We were close friends when I moved there in ninth grade, and then my Mom’s job moved us away for a bit, to Houston, and then we came back to El Paso for senior year.” 

“Oh, so it’s not just because Dad has no game,” Chris muses. 

Mom laughs again. “God, you’re snarky like him.” She pauses. “Although, you are kinda right. Even though we reconnected and became best friends, I was the one who had to ask him out. Which, I understand now was for other reasons too, but neither of us knew that at the time.” 

She smiles, like she’s happy to revisit it. Chris hopes she is. He thinks there was a time that they were totally happy. He hopes it didn’t end completely when he was born.

“So, I think it was before Biology, which I remember because it was one of my best classes. And I was probably half in love with him already, anyway, but I had gotten sick of waiting for him to ask me out. And I knew he wasn’t crushing on anyone else - I didn’t think, anyway - and I knew I was the only girl he spent this much time with. And we were chatting at our lockers - they were right next to each other, it was like a movie - ”

Chris frowns, confused. “Like a movie?” He’s not totally sure what she’s referencing, but if it’s not Marvel or Star Wars or the Jurassic Park movies or a bunch of kids movies in the last decade, he probably hasn’t seen it. 

Mom cocks her head. “Right, I doubt you’ve seen a lot of nineties/early two thousands teen movies, but the characters always magically seem to have lockers next to each other. And yet, we did. It was why we became friends again when I moved back.”

Chris nods. “So when did you ask him out?”

Mom smiles more. “We were just talking about school stuff, and he smiled. And I thought his smile was so cute. And I said, “Diaz, when are you going to ask me out?” and he was like, blinking because he didn’t expect it. And he said -” She adopts a low, confused teenage boy voice. “Uh, ask - you, uh, do you wanna go out?” 

She laughs warmly, seemingly at the memory. “Bless him.”

Chris snorts. “Jeez, I know it’s partly because he didn’t know he was gay, but it’s a miracle I was even born, Mom.” 

Mom laughs, lighting up her whole face. She laughs so much she has to wipe her eyes, but this time at least it seems wholly from happiness. “You’re right. If it was left up to him, who knows? I’m glad I asked, though. I walked to Bio with the biggest smile on my face.”

Chris smiles. “That sounds nice.” 

“It was,” Mom says, lightly. 

They watch the waves. 

Chris leans on her shoulder again. “This is nice.” 

“It really is,” she echoes, and rubs light patterns on his arm. 

“Can we build some more of our castle?” he asks after a while. 

“We can do whatever you’d like, sweetheart.” She leans in to kiss his head and then lets him go. 

Someone’s portable speaker is playing nearby. He almost recognises the song, has Buck played it before? 

It’s faint, but he can hear it. There are these strings that are really pretty. 

He turns to Mom, and she looks - serene. She has her eyes closed, and she’s smiling. She looks younger. “And I’m a million different people from one day to the next,” she sings quietly, happily. She has a nice voice. She used to sing him to sleep. 

“What song is it?” 

She opens her eyes, lit up. “Oh, just an old song I used to like. Bittersweet Symphony.” 

He tucks it away, to remember. He’d make a note on his phone, usually, but he’s not sure where his phone is. And strangely, he doesn’t even care. 

They finish the sandcastle. The sun doesn’t move in the sky, just stays in its place. Like they have infinite time. The sandcastle is magnificent, four stories, with countless turrets. 

“Oh, that’s fantastic. No one here has our sandcastle skills,” Mom laughs. 

“No, they don’t,” Chris grins. “I don’t usually have these skills. I guess it’s different here.” 

Mom nods. “Yeah it is.” 

Suddenly, he feels strange. The sun isn’t too hot, but its warmth is making him sleepy. 

He blinks one or twice, eyelids feeling suddenly heavy. 

“Are you tired, honey? You can take a nap, if you want,” Mom says, leaning over to stroke his arm. 

Part of him doesn’t want to sleep. Knows what it means. But something about being here means he’s not afraid of that. And a nap sounds really good right now. 

“Ok, Mom,” he replies, and lies down in her lap like when he was little. Maybe he’s too old for it now, but he was robbed of a lot of childhood with his mom, so sue him for taking the comfort when he can. He looks out at the sea, hears the waves. 

Hears the sounds of people. 

Mom runs a light hand through his hair, also like when he was little. “How much do I love you, Chris?” 

He remembers this. “To the moon and stars and back,” he mumbles, sleepily. 

“To the moon and stars and back,” she echoes. This was their thing. When Dad was away, this is what she’d say to him. “Give my love to them too.” 

“I will," he says, closing his eyes. “Can you sing me that song?”

She strokes. “Of course, baby.” 

He’s half-asleep when she starts singing softly.  

“Go to sleep, little babe,” she sings, low and hypnotic in her melody. He loved her voice. She never sang publicly, but it always sounded nice to him. “Go to sleep you little babe.” 

Somewhere, as he’s drifting off, he feels like he remembers her singing this song to him when he was really young, almost a baby. But he doesn’t even remember anything from that time, so maybe it’s not a real memory. There’s just something very familiar about it. 

He blinks awake, leaning against something hard.

Distantly, he can hear Buck’s voice. “Long day for you, huh?”

“Mom,” he blurts out, pulling away from the window. He must have fallen asleep against it.

Buck’s fond expression becomes worried. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“No,” he says, and embarrassingly, finds himself tearing up.

“Oh, Chris,” Buck says, empathetically. He reaches over the centre control to wrap him in a hug.

Chris is too disoriented from the dream and the emotional whiplash to even go through the motions of pretending he’s too old for hugs. Buck’s hugs are the best, only Dad’s are as good.

He wraps his arms around Buck too, although he can barely get around his chest.

They stay like that for a moment.

Chris’ anxiety and disorientation recedes as he finds comfort in the hug.

Then Buck pulls back, still looking worried for him. “You wanna talk about it?”

Chris pauses. “I don’t know.”

Buck nods, carefully. “You don’t have to. But I’m here.”

Chris thinks for a moment. He can still feel it, is the thing. The warmth and the sun, the feel of the beach blanket that in real life Dad had just thrown out because it was getting old and smelly. Mom’s hand in his hair.

“I dreamed about Mom,” he starts, and Buck breathes in, probably faster than intended.

“I guess – there’s a lot of changes with me and your dad, right now. With me moving in,” he starts, tentatively. “I can understand why your mom might be on your mind.”

Chris thinks about it. Has he been feeling guilty? Maybe a little, but not like, at the front of his mind. “I’m really happy you’ve moved in though,” he reassures Buck, turning his head to look at him.

Buck seems relieved, which is silly. It’s not like he’s been pretending to love and trust him since he was a lot younger as part of some long-term prank.

“You know that, right?”

Buck smiles, and nods. “I know. So am I.”

Chris smiles back, just a little.

They’re quiet a moment. “It was really real. The dream.”

“Oh?” Buck asks, an unexpected tone in his voice. “What happened?”

Chris sighs. “I was on the beach at Santa Monica. This perfect day we went, right before Mom died. It’s one of my best memories, not too hot, blue sky, it was just – perfect. And we were there, but it was just me and Mom. Dad wasn’t there though, like he was before, and I was like I am now, not eight.” He pauses, thinking. “I could feel the sun, and hear the seagulls. I felt her,” he says, and pretends to be very interested in something on the windowsill of the Jeep’s door.

“And she felt real?” Buck asks. His voice is comforting, but there’s that strange tone in his voice. Curiosity.

“Real as you are right now,” he admits, frowning.

“That’s…weird,” Buck replies.

“Yeah.”

They sit in silence for a few moments, before Buck speaks up.

“I - I don’t know if I should tell you this, but I feel like maybe I should,” he says, slowly.

Chris turns to look at him, cocking his head to the side. “Yeah?”

“I had a - a very similar dream,” he says, gazing straight ahead through the window screen. He seems uncomfortable, like he’d rather not be talking about it.

“What do you mean?”

Buck bites his lip - it’s a nervous tic he’s noticed before - and turns back to Chris. “I had a dream about your mom. It all felt very - real.”

Chris isn’t sure what to make of this. “When?”

“Last night,” Buck admits.

“Does Dad know?”

Buck nods. “I told him earlier. He said maybe I feel guilty about moving in.”

Chris thinks about this. He doesn’t - not - feel guilty on some level, he’d admitted that to Dream-Mom. But Buck shouldn’t. He’s not sure what they’d do without Buck. He hasn’t had to think about that in a long time.

“Do you?” Chris asks.

Buck’s expression changes, and goes kind of inward. “Not - really,” he says after a moment. “It sounds stupid, but the dream helped? She told me not to be. I know it was just my brain’s version of her, but she was kind.”

Chris can’t quite name the feeling bubbling up inside him. Not quite happy and yet not quite a sad thing, something kind of electric. “She was,” he agrees. “She talked with me a lot. I don’t remember my dreams usually having so much conversation. Or being so vivid.”

“Me either,” Buck says quietly.

They sit for a few more moments, staring straight ahead.

“Do you remember yours?” Chris asks, suddenly, turning to him.

“Yeah, mostly,” Buck replies.

“What was it like?” Chris asks, curious. Running down a half-baked theory.

“Uh,” Buck says, expression thoughtful. “We were in the backyard of a big house. At least, bigger than ours now. She and I were hanging out, just us. She had a - partner, and he was inside with your dad.” He pauses. “It felt like - a future we might have had.”

“If she’d lived.” Chris adds. He smiles a little, at the thought. All his parents, happy and good with each other, like Harry’s. Maybe even an extra one. “Did she say anything to you that you wouldn’t have known about before she died?”

Buck’s eyes flick down and back. He knows something, maybe. Does he?

“She talked about you and your dad in my dream. But Chris, I mean, it was just my brain - ” Buck starts, awkwardly.

“Do you remember anything she said, specifically?” Chris continues, feeling oddly desperate.

Now Buck’s expression is guilty. “She - she said she loved you. And that she wished things had worked out better with your Dad.”

Chris’s heart sinks. None of it is stuff he couldn’t have imagined her saying, or made up for her subconsciously. It was a stupid thought anyway. “Oh,” he says, quietly.

Buck seems to understand his disappointment immediately. “I’m sorry, Chris.” He pauses. “Maybe this is stupid, but in my dream she blew me a kiss for you.”

Chris straightens up, thinking. Going over his memories of her. She used to do that, blow him kisses before she left the room, after she tucked him in. He’d forgotten. “Mom used to do that after she tucked me in.”

A spark of that strange sad-happy feeling lights up, moments from being extinguished again. “You don’t - you don’t remember anything specific that she told you from her past? Something Dad wouldn’t know?”

Buck really looks guilty. “Why something like that?”

Chris gives him the kind of beseeching look he knows Buck cannot resist, because he’s been using it on him for years. “Buck, please.”

Buck folds, of course, eyes empathetically sad. “Alright, let me think.”

He seems to struggle with his words, looks at Chris tentatively and then - “Oh, she said that…your Tia Sophia told her you guys were in LA, and that’s - well, that’s how she got back in touch with your Dad. Just before, uh, Christmas. Your Dad definitely never told me that.”

Chris knows there’s something he’s not saying, because he’s got no poker face, but that’s not important right now. He feels a surge of - something. Excitement? Too soon to tell.

“Why’d you want to know that, Chris?” Buck asks, softly. “I’m sorry for bringing up my dream, I thought it might help, but I feel like - ”

Chris watches him, and decides to say it. Buck does look worried. “No, I’m glad you did. Because if I’m right - ” he pauses, and takes a different tack. “If you just dreamed that, then I can ask Tia Sophia, and she’ll tell me that never happened, right? Scientific experiment.”

Buck does look curious, if still worried. “But if she said it did then…”

Chris raises his eyebrows.

Buck’s expression goes over all guilty again. “Oh, Chris, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you about my dream.”

“I don’t think she’s still alive or anything,” Chris says, quickly. “But you have to admit, it’s a weird coincidence! We had these dreams within hours of each other. I never fall asleep in the afternoon. And I never remember my dream so well, even when I’m awake. Do you?”

He can see the cogs turning in Buck’s head - the part of him that probably wants to be a good parent fighting the part that is curious about this. “No,” he admits. “So - and this is not a judgement, I’m just clarifying - but what you’re thinking is that she, or some version of her - soul, or something like, visited us both, in our dreams?”

Chris nods. “I know it sounds insane like that. I know neither of us are all that religious. But like, whose to say we don’t make things real through our belief? We honour her memory through traditions passed onto my Dad, and that were done for generations before him. You’re all belief in the universe. Do you think it’s…impossible?”

Buck blinks and sighs. “No, actually. I mean, I’ve never experienced anything like this. But I’ve had some pretty trippy visions on hallucinogens.” He frowns. “Don’t tell your dad I told you that.”

Chris snorts. “I know about drugs, Buck. I’m not about to do mushrooms because you told me you’ve tripped before.”

Buck fights a smile. “You’re getting a little too smart, man.”

Chris smiles.

“And if you ever do that, I’m not gonna be mad but please let me know what you’re doing so I can give you advice. Not all drugs are equal and it really depends where you get them from - ”

Chris sighs. “Yes, fine. I’ll be a big dork and let my other dad know when and if I do drugs.”

Buck grins, pleased. “Again, not a word about this to your dad. He would bury me in the backyard and use me for fertiliser.”

Chris laughs. “That’s vivid. Of course.”

He looks at Buck. “Don’t tell Dad about this either, yet. I just want to text Tia Sophia, and if she tells me it never happened, then you’re right and I’ll drop it.”

Buck nods. He gives Chris a very soft look. “Chris, I’d love to be wrong. I’d love to dream about spending a day with my older brother. Maybe a him that got to be older than me. And you knew her, so of course you miss her. I just wanna make sure you’ll be ok if your tia does say that to you.”

Chris nods, though his heart is beating fast. “I will be. I’ve been grieving her a while now, I’m pretty used to it.”

Buck takes his hand, and Chris doesn’t pull away. A sign, maybe, of how strange and emotionally wired this afternoon has been.

Chris gets a call back a few hours later.

He answers it on the first ring.

“Hey, Chris!”

Tia Sophia’s voice is warm, but he can tell there’s something tentative to it.

“Hey, Tia,” he replies, trying to be cheery.

“I got your text,” she continues. “Is everything ok? You wanna talk?”

“Everything’s ok,” he reassures her. It’s mostly true, other than he’s half-sure some part of his dead mother’s spirit is trying to contact him and the man in her place from beyond the grave. “I’m just…curious. So, did you?”

Tia Sophia is quiet for a moment. “Ah, yeah, I did. I figured she might want to know, at least.”

Chris isn’t sure he’s breathing, for a moment.

“And that was just before Christmas?”

“Oh -” Tia starts, and then, “Yeah, just before then. Because that was just before she came back right?”

“Christmas 2018, yeah,” he says, quietly. He can remember how exciting that Christmas morning was. What a miracle it felt like, to see his mom after thinking she was never coming back. At that age - it’s harder to remember now, but back then he didn’t remember what it was like to have both of them there at the same time. Dad was away a lot, and then Mom left, but on that day - it was like the present was both of them, together.

He blinks.

“Are you ok, Chris?” Tia asks, empathetic. “You just thinking about her a lot right now?”

“Yeah,” he tells her. It’s not not true. But he’s not about to tell her about the dream. “Thanks, Tia Sophia. That helps.”

“Happy to.” She pauses. “Who told you this?”

He thinks quickly. He knows Buck and her are friendly. He knows it’s likely she told Tia Pepa, maybe. Or Tia Adriana. “Uh, I think Tia Pepa told me.”

It’s a gamble, that she told her. Maybe she’d forget if she had.

“Oh,” Tia says, surprised. “Why - why would she tell you that?”

“Uh,” Chris says, relieved. Maybe he should start learning how to play poker. “Don’t be mad at her or anything. We were just talking about Mom a while ago. And we were talking about when she came back.”

“Oh, of course,” Tia coos. “You need to talk anymore about it?”

“Thanks,” Chris replies. “I’m alright. But I appreciate it.”

“Ok, cariño. Te amo.” Tia Sophia is so warm. Sometimes he wishes she lived closer to them.

Chris smiles. “Te amo, Tia Sophia.”

“Tell your dad I’ll give him a call soon,” she adds.

“Will do.”

“Ok, buenas noches.”

“Good night.”

He ends the call and lets out a shaky breath.

It might mean nothing. Dad never told him. Tia Sophia never told him. So if Buck’s brain made up that version of Mom, how did she know?

“Buck!” he calls, trying to move as quickly as he can with his crutches. “Buck!”

Buck’s in the kitchen, maybe planning dinner. Dad is still out, his thing apparently taking longer than expected. “Hey, what is it - ” he starts, turning around from the bench. He trails off at Chris’ expression.

“Oh,” he says quietly. “She -”

He doesn’t finish, but Chris understands. He nods rapidly.

Buck’s expression goes blank with shock. “But how would I - shit,” he breathes, and then flinches. “Sorry.”

“I can hear the word shit, Buck,” Chris deadpans.

“But you’re not allowed to say it,” Buck retorts, frowning slightly. “But yeah. That is…weird. I’ll give you that.”

Buck watches him, softening. “Are you alright?”

Chris nods, and then finds himself replying. “I don’t know. Can we talk about it?”

Buck nods. “Alright. Anything you want to ask.”

They sit down at the table in the kitchen together.

Chris is quiet for a moment, before he can ask the thing on his mind. “With yours, did it feel like...did it feel like she was going to…come back again?”

Buck’s face falls. “I’m - I don’t think so. She said it had been nice to be my friend.”

Chris nods. This - while very disappointing - isn’t shocking to him. “Yeah, felt like that for me. Like she knew she had to go again, soon.”

Buck watches him, carefully. There’s something very gentle about his expressions, for a guy who’s so big. Something like - it’s not something a lot of adults have, especially ones that look like him. “I’m sorry. I feel -” he breaks off, looking pained. “I wanted to comfort you, but I feel like I’ve taken something from you all over again by telling you about my dream.”

Chris lifts his head, stares at him straight on, serious. “I’m glad you did. It’s nice - it’s nice to think of her visiting us in some way, that it wasn’t just my brain longing to see her again. I feel like I actually did. It hurts less. I don’t know.”

Buck wrinkles his nose like he’s trying to keep it together. “You’re such a good kid. I’m so in awe of you, you know that? You’re so much more intelligent than I was at your age, like, emotionally as well.”

Chris smiles a little. “Thanks.” He tries to imagine Buck at thirteen. He mentioned he used to skateboard and ride bikes. Chris tries to imagine a skinnier, smaller Buck with scrapes and scabbed knees. He sort of wishes he had any pictures of Buck at that age, like he does with Dad and his sisters. He knows what Dad looked like at a lot of different points, but Buck doesn’t really have many photos from when he was younger. He blames it on moving around, but there’s a sadness to him when he says it that makes Chris think that’s not the whole story.

“You think we would’ve been friends, when you were thirteen?”

Buck seems surprised by this, but smiles. “I think so. You would’ve been smarter than me by far, but I’d have liked your sense of humour.”

This cheers Chris up a strange amount. “Thanks, Buck.” He wonders for a moment. “You think Dad would’ve liked me then?”

Buck smiles more, generously. “I don’t know what he was like then, but I think so, definitely. I imagine he put a lot of pressure on himself even then, so maybe you would’ve been the kind of friend he needed. Make him laugh like you do.”

Chris smiles more. “You would’ve done the same. But I’m glad you didn’t meet then.”

Buck chuckles. “I am too.”

Chris sighs. “Can we not tell him about the dreams? I don’t want to upset him. I don’t think he’d understand.”

“Of course. Our secret,” Buck says, and holds out his pinky.

Chris smiles again. He likes whenever Buck does this, something he only does otherwise with his sister. It feels special - though he’d never say any of that.

Buck links his pinky with Chris’ and they nod on it.

“You wanna watch something with us?” Eddie asks, later that night.

Buck knows he doesn’t expect Chris to say yes as much now, the more he wants to spend time playing online with his friends.

Buck doesn’t expect him to say yes either. But he does.

Chris turns to them. “Could we - could we watch The Goonies?”

Buck’s surprised by it. “I didn’t think you’d want to watch an 80s movie. I’ve never seen it though, it’s like an adventure movie right?”

Eddie seems surprised, but in a different way. Caught off guard. “Yeah,” he says, slowly. He looks hesitant, and then smiles. “You know, your mom loved this movie. I watched it with her more than once.”

Buck realises what the look in Chris’ eye is, and he quietly slips a hand into Chris’ to squeeze it lightly. Chris even allows this, which makes him think he must really need it.

“That’s - that’s awesome,” Chris says, and Buck can tell that he did not just learn this information now. Which means he learned it from -

“Well, I’m in. Chim’s been telling me for years that I gotta watch this, and now I can tell him I did,” Buck jumps in.

“Can we, Dad?”

Eddie smiles more, something nostalgic in his expression. “Sure. Let’s do it.”

Chris seems happy at this.

Buck catches his eye and smiles understandingly.  Chris smiles back.

It’s summer,but it’s one of the good summer days when the humidity isn’t oppressive. It’s just warm enough to enjoy being outside, lying in the grass. The crickets are chirping around them, and the creek burbles from nearby. The sun’s going to set soon, but the late afternoon feels stretched out like the saltwater taffy Dad brought back for them when he was working in Galveston.

He can hear cars passing, distantly. The secluded field feels as close to nature as it’s possible to be right now, though.

The picnic blanket is soft under him.

“Zoning out again, pretty boy?”

He turns from looking at the sky, and there she is, next to him.

Wearing that blue dress she loved, bright blue with white polka dots. Seventeen years old and light and carefree.

Shannon.

“Sorry,” he says, blinking. “What were you saying?”

She smiles, with her teeth. A real smile. Her smile. “I was telling you about the stars, Eddie. And how there’s a golden record out there in space carrying all these sounds of humanity.”

“Oh yeah?” he says. The smattering of freckles across her face is so pretty. There’s something he needs to tell her but he can’t quite remember.

“Yeah,” she says, eyes wide. Reminding him of someone. “These two scientists making the record fell in love while making it, and one of them, Ann Druyan, went to a hospital and had her brainwaves recorded as she meditated on her thoughts of love for him. Sounded like fireworks.”

Her voice is soft, and she doesn’t make it louder as she imitates the sound of firework explosions.

He grins. There’s so much love in him, and something else. What day is it, anyway? He doesn’t know. He just knows it’s late afternoon, a Texas summer, and he’s seventeen years old.

“I love you,” he says, and there’s a growing - something behind it. He tries not to focus on it.

She smiles back at him. “I will always love you, Eddie. In some way. You know that, right?”

He blinks. “Yeah, I do,”

She looks a little - wistful, maybe?

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she whispers. “I just forgot what it was like when it was like this. It really was special, right?”

He sits up, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t…this is special, yeah.”

She sits up too. “Yeah,” she says, sighing. She giggles. “You were so skinny.”

He can’t quite figure it out, but there’s something going on that doesn’t make sense. “No I’m not. Baseball guys have muscles,” he says, feeling like he’s borrowing the retort from somewhere. It doesn’t fit right in his mouth.

She laughs again. “I know, honey. I guess compared to later, is all.”

“What happens later?” he whispers, fearing somehow that he already knows the answer.

She doesn’t look away, but smiles a little more sadly. “A lot. Do you remember?”

He opens his mouth to say no, but he does, actually. Flashes of things. Hurts that live in him. He gulps. He’s not really in Texas in 2010, really. He knows that. This is just a memory of that.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, breathing out heavily. He suddenly wants to cry. She’s so young, in front of him. There’s so much he wants to tell her, warn her about. But he knows he can’t.

She puts her hand on his cheek, softly. “Not your fault. Never your fault.”

“I should’ve -” he starts.

She shakes her head. “Nothing you could’ve done. You know this.”

“I know this,” he remembers. Years of therapy. Years from now, whenever now is. He looks around. “How are you here? Is this a dream?”

Shannon shrugs. “Maybe.”

“It feels more…real, than my dreams,” Eddie says, and realises it’s true. “Except for the nightmares. Those are a little too fucking real.”

Shannon drops her hand to his arm. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

He smiles a little, rueful. “Not your fault.”

“Not not my fault,” she replies, sadly.

“Because you died?” he says. He can say it now, without crying. But it’s hard when she’s right here in front of him, before it all. A sunflower of a seventeen year old girl, always turned towards the sun.

She looks away for a moment. “I couldn’t control that, I know.” She turns back to him. “When I was alive, I felt…a lot of guilt, for a lot of things. And one was that maybe I pushed you towards the army. That I was to blame for the way you came back so much smaller and quieter, and even more stuck in your own head. And I was so angry at the time, but I was also afraid it was my fault.”

“Your fault?” he asks, confused. “I - I was the one who signed up, Shan - I - how could it be -”

“I thought If I hadn’t gotten pregnant, you wouldn’t have panicked and felt like you had to provide for us,” she continues, watching him with soft, wistful eyes.

“As I recall, I had something to do with you getting pregnant,” he retorts, but not meanly. “You didn’t do that to me.”

She watches him, and there’s something happier in her eyes. “You’re so much…lighter, now. It’s easier to talk to you. It reminds me of when it was like this, when it was just us.”

He smiles, a small, somewhat twisted-up thing.

“I started therapy a few years ago,” he says, and half-laughs. “I bet you’re gonna say, about fucking time.”

She grins, but shakes her head. Her hair glints in the lowlight, making it look golden in parts. “Never. I’m proud of you. Probably could’ve used it myself.”

Eddie watches her. “Maybe.” He sighs. “You really blame yourself for me going to war?”

“Not anymore. But then did, sometimes,” she says, mysteriously. Maybe not so mysteriously. “And your family was so afraid for you, all the time. Like me. But it always felt like, if I hadn’t gotten pregnant, you’d be there, with a future ahead of you.”

He takes her hand. It feels solid, and real. “I never blamed you for all of that. I made all of those choices.”

She watches him again, sad but kind of distantly so. “I just felt like I cut off your options.”

Eddie frowns. “I certainly cut off yours. You were so smart, you were going to go to college and be so much more amazing than me, and I got you stuck.”

“I could never be more amazing than you, Eddie,” she replies, softly. “I knew once you figured out what you wanted to do, you’d be just - whoosh,” she says, imitating a shooting star with her arm.

“I don’t know about that,” he disagrees, quietly. “But we did something pretty amazing together. Maybe he’s the one that’s more than both of us.”

“I like that.”

“And I have never regretted him.” He pauses. “Maybe the timing. But not him.”

She smiles, happily, slowly. “No. I know maybe I made you think it, but I feel the same. My beautiful boy.” 

“Yeah, he really is,” Eddie reflects. “He misses you, you know? Not as painfully as before, but you’re always with us. With him. We put your picture up with Abuelo’s on Dia de los Muertos. He keeps you alive when he asks me about you. And he looks more like you than ever now.”

There’s a sort of lump in his throat, and yet, saying it feels cathartic. Maybe because it’s to her. Maybe because he can tell her.

“Yeah, he’s getting so big now. His hair’s getting really scruffy now isn’t it?” she says, with a dreamy, unbothered inflection. “If he grows it out he’ll really look like me,” she says, with a chuckle.

“What?” Eddie asks, confused. “You mean, when he was eight?”

Shannon smiles enigmatically. She loved surprises. Or she had. The pregnancy test wasn’t a very fun one. “Yeah, then.” She cocks her head slightly. “Can you remind him how much I love him? To the moon and stars and back.”

“To the moon and stars and back,” he repeats. “Ok.”

“Thank you,” she says, and it’s the first time he’s seen her eyes glistening the whole conversation.

She blinks and lies down on the blanket, staring up at the sky, which is now a blaze of orange-red, welcoming the night on.

He lies back down next to her.

“There will be stars soon,” she says, quietly. “Maybe we’ll see some.”

“Maybe,” Eddie replies.

She takes his hand, in between them. Lightly.

“Do you remember this night, Eddie?” she whispers.

It doesn’t matter. They might well be the only people in existence.

“Yeah,” he says, very softly. Like anything louder might break the moment.

“What was it, our third time?” she asks, still so quiet. “Your mom was visiting your Dad in North Carolina, and your tia was in town to watch your sisters, and she said you should have a night off to hang out with me or your friends, now that you’d graduated.”

“How could I forget?” Eddie replies, smiling a little. A little sad. “We came out to our spot.”

“This was our third time, after prom?” she asks again, even though he thinks she knows. “A week or two after graduation?”

“Yeah,” he says again. “My place was a no-go, and your mom wasn’t working that night.”

She giggles, still soft. “So outdoors it was.”

“I believe I suggested the truck, and you were the one who thought this would be more romantic,” he counters.

She giggles again. “I know. You know how I feel about nature. The universe.”

“I know,” he agrees.

She doesn’t say anything for a moment. “I see things differently now than I did then. Then I did when we got back together.”

“Oh?” he says, feeling suddenly guilty. Which he hates.

She squeezes his hand. “It’s not a bad thing. I just - would’ve done things differently.” 

“I know that feeling,” Eddie finds himself saying. “What - what do you mean though?”

She turns to look at him.

He turns to face her on the blanket. “This was the night we conceived our son. And it was terrifying to find that out, but you have to know that I loved him with every fibre of my being. Even when I left. I had to make an awful choice, and we were both so young, and my mom - she didn’t have anyone. But I loved him with everything I had, every day I was away from him.”

“I know,” he whispers. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” she whispers back. “Don’t be sorry.”

“I kept you from him, you could’ve both had more time together, Shan, I was so selfish,” he continues, and he might be crying, he’s not sure.

She reaches out a hand to wipe his cheek. “You were hurt. We were so young. You were trying to protect him. It’s ok. I forgave you a long time ago.”

He sniffs.

“Can you forgive me?” she whispers.

“For what? I also forgave you a long time ago,” he says, truly surprised. It’d taken longer than her death, but he’d forgiven her memory for everything he’d been angry at her for. Hurt by.

Her eyes are soft and glimmering in the gloom.

“I worry I made you sleep with me. You weren’t that desperate, but I - I just loved you so much, and I wanted to be close to you like that, and I figured you wanted it too. You were a teenage boy and we were in love, I couldn’t think of a reason we shouldn’t have sex, except maybe the whole Catholic premarital sex thing, but you told me that didn’t matter so much to you. I know it was kind of awkward, and fumbling at times, but I thought it was nice. Did I hurt you? Did I make you?”

She’s crying too. He reaches over and wipes her cheek, sniffling. “No,” he tells her. “You didn’t hurt me, Shan, you gave me one of the best things in my life, the best thing I’ve put into the world.”

She smiles a little, sadly.

He takes a breath. “I wish I’d known now, or - been able to look at it at all, or acknowledge it or whatever - what I know now. I could’ve let you go sooner. Maybe you would’ve had a chance to be happy. Happier. Certainly happier than most of our marriage.”

Her eyelids flutter. “I’m sorry our marriage wasn’t happier. I still loved you, in spite of it.”

“I’m sorry too,” he tells her. “But if I’d known myself at seventeen like I do now, I wouldn’t have that best thing. That beautiful boy. And -” his voice hitches. “For what it’s worth, I loved you too. It took me a very long time to get over you.” He pauses a while. “But you know, don’t you? Did you know then?”

“No,” she admits, quietly. “And yes.” She takes a breath. He watches her eyes. “Back then, I was first too in love with you and then too angry with you to understand you fully. We talked so much when we started dating I thought I knew everything about you. And then I was too hurt and angry when we were married, a lot of the time, to figure out what you were afraid of, what you were running from. I thought it was me. Or me and the baby.”

“It wasn’t you. Or it wasn’t just that, I just couldn’t - “ he starts, and Shannon shakes her head against the picnic rug.

“I know, honey,” she says, gently. “And then we got back together and I was so happy to have this piece of my family back, I didn’t realise it was kind of like it had been. Sex as a distraction tactic. Before it had been because we kept fighting otherwise. And this time it was about keeping me, but keeping me separate from Chris.”

“I know,” he breathes. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no.” She puts a hand to his face. “I’m not trying to relitigate. I guess I’m just saying that you were different, and I knew it, but I couldn’t explain it. Something small had changed. Or something that had always been there had become clearer.”

“You knew then? Why did you stay with me?”

“No, I -” she starts. “You, I think, would understand the concept of knowing and not knowing at the same time.”

He breathes out heavily. “I do, yeah.”

She smiles. “It was like that. One part of me - the part of me that loved you so much, the part that just wanted us together as a family - that part insisted everything was fine. You welcomed me back, I got to see my little boy, you seemed happy to have me back. But we were older than we’d been when we were last together. I liked the closeness of our sex life, but I started wondering if you enjoyed it as much as I had thought you did, or whether you just wanted me to enjoy it.” She smiles more. “Which I thought was very good of you. A lot of men don’t care.”

“Did you enjoy it?” he asks, weird insecurity getting the better of him even though he knows very well why he wasn’t having the best sex of his life with her. It wasn’t even bad, well, save their first goes, but even then they were nice because they were together and they could hold each other after.

“I did. Very much,” she reassures him. “But you were always so - in your head. I never felt like you let go, gave yourself over to it.”

He doesn’t say anything to this.

She continues. “It was just…things like that made me wonder. I knew we weren’t going to work long term, in the end. And I was terrified of messing up with Chris again, if we started fighting again. I didn’t even know who I was. That’s why I needed a divorce. I’m sorry that it got so complicated afterwards.”

He sniffs. “Don’t be sorry.” He takes a breath. Composes himself. “I wish I had been able to admit it then, Shan. I wanted to be a family with you, and I really didn’t know. Not really. It took me a lot of time and a very good friendship not to mention several good queer friends here to bust open that door of repression and deal with everything else in there. It wasn’t pretty.”

Her expression is awash with empathy. “I’m so proud of you, though. You did the work.”

“I bet you wish I’d done it when we were together,” he replies, ruefully.

“Hard to do without much of a support system for either of us.” She taps her nose. “You needed those people. That support.”

She smiles at him, lazy and catlike. It’s very familiar. “Tell me about that friendship. It was Buck, right? I like him.”

“You barely knew him,” Eddie points out.

“Maybe,” she says, casually. “I like him for you.”

He feels himself blushing, which is ridiculous. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, with a laugh. “I think he was what changed you when we met again. He has my eternal gratitude for that.”

“Why, if it would’ve eventually…maybe led to this, even if you lived?” Eddie admits.

She smiles at him, happily. “Because he helped you. And because of that you were a little steadier when you met me, and you reached out again. And then, he was there to work through it with you, and you let me back in. Why wouldn’t I be grateful?”

“I never told you that, though,” Eddie remembers. “How do you know?”

“I have my sources,” Shannon admits, with a gratuitous wink.

He takes her in. Her dancing eyes, her hair, the freckle on the bridge of her nose. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

He watches her, blinks.  “And I’ll always love you,” he continues. “But he – I love him so much. He’s…so much to me.” He glances away, guiltily. “Do you hate me for that?”

Shannon greets his returning gaze warmly.

“Never.” It’s emphatic. “It’s ok for you to love him more, Eddie. He’s - he gives you something I couldn’t.”

“It’s not fair,” Eddie says, helplessly. “I wish you’d been able to be loved fully and as much as you deserved.”

She finds his hand. “Me too. But you shouldn’t worry about me, because I’m happy now. I just wish we’d been able to work it out while I was alive. Maybe one day we could’ve been friends again, having lunch with our boyfriends and our kid.”

He chuckles, wetly. “You think we would’ve done that well.”

“Definitely,” she says, with a grin. “Once we got past the hurt. Remembered we were friends. Like your captain and his wife and her ex.”

“You remember that?”

“Of course.”

He stares at her.

She moves her hand up to his cheek again.

“Eddie, I love you. I love Chris. Maybe I love your Buck, even, for loving you both. I can’t do it anymore,” she says, simple and full of emotion.

She doesn’t seem sad anymore, though. “Take care of each other.”

“I’m not gonna see you again, though,” he asks, already knowing the answer.

“No, honey,” she says, serenely.

“Can we stay here for a bit?” he asks.

“As long as you like,” she says, and leans over to kiss his forehead, lightly.

Then she lies back next to him. He holds her hand, and lies back.

The crickets chirp.

The night sky is full of stars. Somewhere out there is a record with the brain impressions of a woman falling in love, and it sounds like fireworks.

Eddie wakes up, breathing heavily.

The dream is still so clear in his mind.

He never remembers dreams this well.

“Eddie,” Buck asks, sleepily. “You ok?”

“Yeah, I’m,” he starts, but even he can hear his voice wavering.

Buck blinks awake, soft eyes on him immediately.

Eddie takes a shuddering breath.

“Hey, hey,” he whispers. “Nightmare?”

He’s not sure if it was. It’s just shaken him up. “I don’t know.” 

Buck winds a big, comforting arm around his waist. Eddie thinks it should be a legitimate medical treatment, the way when Buck’s holding him secure like this it improves his mental health, trauma, anything else malfunctioning in his brain.

“What about?”

Eddie takes a breath, and focuses on Buck’s beautiful eyes - light even in the gloom. “Shannon, weirdly.”

He notices Buck’s eyes widen somewhat at this. “Oh. Wow.”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs. “Maybe it’s on my mind because of yours.”

Buck watches him softly. And yet, there’s something else in it. “Can I ask what it was about?”

Eddie pauses, not expecting this. “Uh, I guess…I was remembering this place we used to hang out, back home. It was this quiet little field at the edge of these woods. We were just hanging out together like we used to, looking up at the stars.” He breathes, feeling oddly better after explaning it. “It was just really - it felt exactly the way it did. Down to the crickets.”

Buck smiles softly, against the pillow. “That sounds really special.”

“It was,” Eddie admits, then clarifies. “When it was real, of course.”

He can see teenage Shannon’s face so clearly in his mind.

“Can you hold me?” he whispers.

“You don’t need to ask,” Buck replies, loosening his hold on Eddie so Eddie can snuggle into his chest. His warm, comfortable chest, where Eddie can hear his heart beating steadily.

The knot of anxiety in his chest loosens. He takes a breath, and another.

“It was nice to see her,” Eddie says, unsure if Buck can even hear him. “Even if it was just in my brain.”

“Maybe that’s enough, baby,” Buck whispers. Eddie feels it in his chest. “Enough for some kind of closure.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, sleepily. “Maybe, yeah.”

He falls asleep on Buck’s chest. When he wakes up, Buck’s arms are still holding him securely.

They’re on the beach, watching the sunset, a few days after the dreams.

Chris knows he will not have another one the same. It’s sad, but in a strange way he’s grateful. Whatever it was, it’s more closure than he ever got at eight.

Going to the beach kind of feels like remembering her, anyway.

Buck is helping him build a sandcastle.

His phone rings, on his bag next to his towel.

He sprints to pick it up. “I’ll be back in two seconds, ok?”

“Sure,” Chris says.

Chris sees Dad walking back from the little stand with three wrapped ice creams in hand.

Dad sits down on one of their seats. “What’s Buck up to?”

“He got a call.”

Dad smiles. “Well, he better be back soon or I’m gonna eat his ice cream.”

Chris grins. “Fair. Can I have mine, please?”

Dad grins. “Very polite, yes you may.” He hands it over to Chris, who takes it and starts unwrapping it.

Chris finishes it quickly, and then thinks of a question as he watches the waves. “Can I ask you something, Dad?”

“Sure, shoot,” Dad returns.

“Did you ever go to the beach with Mom, before I was born?”

Dad pushes his sunglasses up onto his head. He smiles, a little crookedly. “Um, there wasn’t exactly a lot of beaches back home. But we went to lakes sometimes, when it got too hot.”

Chris nods. He barely knows El Paso, really. He knows he spent years there, and he remembers Grandma and Abuelo’s house well, and the way houses there look so different to the ones here. He’s familiar enough with what the place looks like from visiting a few times. But he doesn’t know it like he knows here, can’t picture where his parents hung out when they were in school. Maybe he should make Dad show him next time they’re there.

“What kind of music did she listen to, then?”

Dad seems surprised, but considers the questions. “It was a while ago, but…” he starts, then smiles. “She loved Weezer’s Island in the Sun, which I did not, and I used to complain about it. Kind of like it now, though,” he says, with a chuckle.

Chris smiles.

“Island in the Sun, ok,” Chris says to himself, making a mental note.

Dad looks thoughtful. “And, she really loved this song Bittersweet Symphony. I don’t know the band, but you can google it, I don’t think there’s another song with the same name. She really liked the strings, and the lyrics. That one we agreed on.”

Chris’ heart jolts. “And I’m a million different people from one day to the next,” he remembers, with a creeping kind of happiness.

Dad’s eyes widen a little. “Oh, you do know it? I didn’t think you would. Came out when I was younger than you. I only knew it later.”

“Uh, yeah,” Chris says quickly. “Buck must have played it for me before.”

Dad chuckles. It’s never not going to be surprising just how much freer and happier he seems now. But it’s a good surprise. “I bet he did. Gotta put a good song in there amongst all the pop music.”

Chris grins. “Isn’t it pop music, too, Dad?”

Dad rolls his eyes, exaggeratedly. “Alright, maybe in the grand scheme of things. But it’s actually about things.”

Chris chuckles. “Can we play it on the way home?”

Dad stares at him for a moment, smiling in the way he does sometimes, like he’s feeling a mixture of things but mostly - happy. Happy that Chris exists. It’s a good smile to get. “Sure.”

He pauses for a moment. “She would love that you want to hear one of her favourite songs.” He pauses again. “She loved you so much, kid. As much as I do. To the moon and stars and back.”

Chris’ heart feels like it misses a beat. He doesn’t know what to say to this. Because how does he know about that…unless Mom told him. Or unless he…

“Chris?” Dad asks, gently, worried. He gets down from his chair to sit by Chris. “Did I upset you?”

Chris just throws his arms around him in a side-hug. Dad winds his arms around him as well. “I love you too, Dad.”

Dad just hugs him a little closer. “You’re really the best kid.”

Chris smiles into Dad’s old black tank top. He’s not as huggy anymore, now he’s older, but at this moment he doesn’t mind it so much.

END