Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Eddie stared up at the entrance to Durand, the tall glass windows darkening as the sun dipped low behind the horizon line. He wiped his sweaty palms against the thighs of his jeans, desperately wishing Buck were here with him. Their wedding and bonding ceremony was only two weeks away, and even though it was getting harder and harder to be apart from each other for a significant amount of time, Johnson had called in when his wife went into labor, which meant Buck didn’t hesitate for a second to help him out.
Which, of course, made Eddie fall even further in love with Buck than he already was. The Guide was just so damn good, and Eddie had no idea what he ever did to deserve someone as caring as Evan Buckley.
The Sentinel told himself that at least Carla would be by his side when he faced the wolves during this school-wide parent-teacher conference since Shannon was out of town for work, but she’d caught the flu from one of her clients and had to cancel last-minute. Eddie had told her, in no uncertain terms, to rest up and that he’d bring a bowl of soup by as soon as he fought his way outside. Christopher was gleefully staying the night at the Kay household, so Eddie had resigned himself to walking straight into the lion’s den filled with overly-handsy single moms, pushy PTA parents, and cringe-worthy puns that the teachers were sure to try and land.
He could do this.
XX
He could not do this.
Fuck.
What was he thinking, coming here by himself? Despite the fact that he’d attended last year’s conference, Christopher’s schedule had changed so there was a whole new floor plan to memorize and, with recent staffing changes, new teachers’ names to remember.
He got turned around no less than four times, and by the time a familiar face, Jordan’s dad—Dale, took pity on him and sent him off in the right direction, Eddie was ready to tear his own hair out. He finally made it to Christopher’s homeroom class only a few minutes late, and he forced himself to take four deep breaths to calm his already-frayed nerves.
Eddie knocked lightly on the open door before stepping inside, trying—and most likely failing—to give the teacher a smile, pretending like he wasn’t about to run from the building kicking and screaming. She was a pretty Latino Guide, with large dark curls and brown eyes that widened slightly at the sight of him. “I’m sorry,” Eddie grit his teeth, once again wishing for his Guide, “I got a bit lost on the way here.”
She gave him a little laugh, not unlike the sound of a chime that scraped against his ears, and stood up to walk around her desk and hold out her hand. “I’m Ana Flores, you must be Christopher’s father.”
Eddie nodded, shaking her hand and moving to sit in the chair provided. “Eddie Diaz, and—”
Before he could mention the fact that Christopher’s mother and other father couldn’t be here tonight, Ms. Flores cut him off. “Short for Edmundo?”
“Uh,” Eddie blinked. “Yeah. Most people guess Eduardo.”
“My grandfather’s name was Edmundo. I loved him very much.”
Eddie cleared his throat, unsure what to respond with. He was never very good with making small talk. “Right, so…”
“Christopher,” she gave him an amused smile, as if relishing in his discomfort for some reason, “is a very special boy. He’s practically the life of the classroom when he’s here, and he loves to read.”
The Sentinel practically melted, pleased at knowing how well Christopher was doing. “That’s not surprising; he’s been going through the Percy Jackson books before bed.” While Eddie was allowed to lay in bed with him and Buck, the Guide was the one who did the voices correctly.
“I think it’s great that Christopher has such a devoted father,” Ms. Flores’ eyes crinkled when she smiled, and he opened his mouth to say, yes, he has three devoted parents, but she continued quickly. “You’re a firefighter, right?”
He squirmed in his seat, uncomfortable with the sudden heat in her gaze. “Er, yeah. For a few years now.”
“Protecting the community,” she sighed, almost dreamily. What the fuck was happening here? Ms. Flores rested her chin atop her fist. “And Christopher’s mother?”
Eddie swallowed, grimacing at the intrusive questions. Weren’t teachers taught not to pry into the personal lives of their students? “We’re divorced—amicably. Shannon lives here in LA, but she just had to travel for work, or she would have been here.” Before she could interrupt him again, he barrelled on. “Buck would have been too.”
Ms. Flores’ head tilted, and a furrow appeared between her brow. “Buck?”
“My partner,” he responded immediately, the description of their relationship slipping off his tongue naturally. He used to describe Buck as such before they finally got their act together, needing to hastily correct himself that they were work partners. Thankfully, Eddie didn’t need to do that anymore.
The teacher still looked a little confused, but she continued on describing how Christopher was doing in her class. It took up the majority of their time, and the only room for improvement she pointed out was that he could use a little bit more direction with fractions. That made sense, really, because Eddie was completely lost when it came to math, and while Buck could handle arithmetic in his head by determining the speed and direction of the wind and the distance to his target, the new way schools teach fractions was beyond frustrating—who changes math? Thank goodness Shannon could teach that in her sleep, considering her job. Eddie made a mental note to give her a call afterwards and set up some tutoring time with Shannon for Christopher.
When she finished, Eddie pushed up from the chair and thanked Ms. Flores, shaking her hand because it was the polite thing to do—no matter how much he just wanted to get the hell out of there. He squirmed a little when she held on for a few beats longer than appropriate, flashed him a flirty smile, and told him she was looking forward to seeing him again.
Eddie grimaced, giving a stilted nod before finally escaping out the door.
God, he couldn’t wait for Buck to get home from work.
XX
Two days before Eddie and Buck’s wedding and bonding ceremony, Shannon offered to pick Christopher up from school and take him to go pick up his suit. She hadn’t been there when they were doing the initial fitting, and she’d be damned if she didn’t get to see her baby all trussed up in a suit before the big day.
The boys had thanked her since they were finishing up their final shift at the firehouse for nearly two weeks. After the ceremony, Eddie and Buck had plans to head to a fancy resort in Riviera Maya, Mexico for a few days before meeting Shannon, Luca, and Christopher at a camping site in the Grand Canyon National Park. Neither the Sentinel nor Guide would hear about missing out on time with Christopher, even if it was for their honeymoon.
Shannon checked the time on her dash before switching off the engine and stepping out of the car. There was a line of parents in their cars waiting in to pick their kids up, but Eddie, Buck, and Shannon all preferred to do it the old-fashioned way. She had just taken a seat on one of the benches by the front entrance when the bell rang, causing a flood of small children to pour out of the school only a few minutes later.
She kept her eyes peeled for the mop of blonde curls—making a note to herself to take Christopher to get a haircut after they picked up his suit—and grinned when the boy in question found her eyes immediately. “Mom!”
“Hi, Baby,” she knelt down to wrap him up in a hug, careful of his crutches, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “How was your day?”
“It was fine,” her son shrugged as she took his backpack and slung it over her own shoulder. “Ms. Flores said she’d like to talk to you.”
Shannon blinked, then looked up to see where her son was gesturing to a Guide with long brunette curls who was watching their interaction a little too closely. Shannon frowned, then looked back at Christopher. “Why don’t you take a seat, and I’ll be right back, okay?”
“Okay! I can get started on reading that new book about volcanoes Buck gave me.”
She grinned down at her son fondly before making her way over to where the teacher waited in a long blue skirt and a white cardigan. “Ms. Flores? Is there something I can help you with?”
Ms. Flores ducked her head down for a moment before returning her gaze shyly. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Diaz. There was a sensitive topic I wanted to run past you before you took Christopher home for the day.”
“Okay,” Shannon hesitated, unsure where this was going.
The teacher cleared her throat and placed her arms over her chest, a yellow folder in her hands. “I assigned the kids a special project today to start on a family tree to help them get a better understanding of their backgrounds. They’re able to take it home to get help from their parents before bringing it back next week.”
“Oh, is this about Christopher being gone for a few days at the end of next week? We have a trip planned.”
Ms. Flores shook her head and chewed on her lip. “No, no, not at all. That’s perfectly fine. I actually wanted to speak to you about what Christopher wrote on his family tree.” When Shannon just raised an expectant eyebrow, the Guide sighed lightly and held out the folder for her to take.
Shannon couldn’t help but let out a bark of laughter as she saw how cluttered the paper was with a list of all of Christopher’s family. He was at the bottom, connected by a line leading to Shannon, Eddie, and Buck, with one line leading off of her own—which makes sense, Christopher wouldn’t remember his maternal grandmother—and a few branching off of Eddie’s, listing out “Abuela and Abuelo,” along with “Tia Sophia and Tia Adrianna,” and even “Bisabuela.” While that was a handful in and of itself, there was an entire array of lines branching off of Buck’s. All of his SEAL team members were listed, along with Athena, Bobby, Daniel, and Maddie.
“Can you see where it might have caught my attention?” Ms. Flores huffed out a laugh. “I think Christopher might have misunderstood the assignment, but when I tried to speak with him about it, he insisted it was right and that he was missing a few names that his parents would need to help him add.”
“I can see where you might be confused,” Shannon mused before tucking the paper back into the folder. “But Christopher is right, all of those names belong on the family tree, and there are quite a few more to add.”
“But…” Ms. Flores hesitated. “Edmundo said that this ‘Buck’ was his partner at work. I don’t understand why Christoper would feel the need to include him on the family tree.”
Shannon couldn’t help the glare she directed at the woman, placing a hand on her hip. “I’m not sure why you feel the need to call Eddie by his full name; he hates it. Plus, you called me Mrs. Diaz, didn’t you? Do you normally go around calling your students’ parents by their first name?”
The Guide flushed, her eyelashes fluttering in embarrassment, and suddenly, Shannon didn’t need an answer to her question. Instead of giving Ms. Flores a chance to respond, Shannon barreled on. “And yes, Buck is Eddie’s partner at work, but he’s also Eddie’s Guide—and his fiance. Their wedding and bonding ceremony is in two days.”
“O—oh,” Ms. Flores reared back in surprise, her lips parted in shock. “I—I didn’t realize Edm-er, Mr. Diaz was seeing someone.”
“That might be the understatement of the century,” Shannon mused, feeling a wicked sense of pleasure at watching the Guide squirm. “They might be the closest thing to soulmates I’ve ever seen.”
Ms. Flores swallowed thickly, nodding tightly. “Of course, I apologize. I didn’t mean to doubt Chrisotpher’s assignment or make assumptions about your—your family.”
“I would hope not,” Shannon quirked an eyebrow at her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to take my son to go pick up his suit for both of his fathers’ wedding.”
She turned around without waiting for a response, meeting Christopher with a bright grin and another kiss to his bushy curls. “You ready, Baby?”
“Ready!”
XX
Buck finished up his last shift before the wedding nearly two hours after Eddie due to their staggered schedules, quickly showering in the locker room and throwing on a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt he kept in his locker. Hen and Chimney gave him tight hugs, the same ones they gave Eddie a bit earlier, and Bobby took nearly half an hour going through the wedding details one last time.
Considering he was the one officiating both the wedding and the bonding ceremony, Buck didn’t mind rehashing everything one more time to ensure it all went smoothly. When they finished up, Both Bobby and Buck teared up more than they were willing to admit, so anyone with eyes could see Buck’s red-rimmed eyes and splotchy cheeks as he dipped out of the firehouse.
As he made his way to his car, a vaguely familiar voice called out, making him pause. “Evan Buckley?”
Buck turned around to see a fiery redheaded Sentinel headed his way, a burst of determination shining within her chest. Dread curled in his lower abdomen, solidifying like a block of ice as he immediately clocked her as a reporter. “Uh, yeah?”
“My name is Taylor Kelly with Skywitness News Eight, and I’d like to interview you for a story I’m working on.”
Fuck. He’d been fending off reporters left and right ever since the truck bombing, barely leaving the house during his recovery. Once he was back on his feet, Athena assigned a security detail to him for a few weeks until people finally caught on to the fact that he wanted to be left alone. There was always someone popping up every now and then—like now, but they generally let him be after he told them, “No comment.”
Taylor Kelly was not like other reporters. Instead of slumping her shoulders in defeat and slinking away, she stopped in front of him with a hand on her waist and a perfectly raised eyebrow. “I think I can get you to change your mind.”
Buck snorted, shaking his head. “I haven’t spoken to a single reporter since the accident. What makes you think I’ll give you the time of day?”
“Because,” she said with her chin tilted up and shoulders back, “I’m the only one who will do this right.”
The Guide’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Do what right?”
A light huff escaped her throat and her lips twitched. “What I mean is that I’m the only one who will take care of your story. I’ve done my research on you, Buck, and I know exactly what you need. I’m the one to give it to you.”
“I don’t need my story told at all,” he argued tightly, starting back toward his jeep. Who did this lady think she was? “Leave me alone.”
“Stories about you are already out there,” she called out to him, freezing him in his tracks again. When he spun around slowly with narrowed eyes, she continued with a triumphant glare. “Reporters who don’t have the full story, spreading misinformation and digging into the lives of your friends and family. I want people to know the truth.”
Buck let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his still-damp curls. “Why would I believe you’re not like all the others? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just get in my jeep and get the hell out of here like I want to.”
Sensing her chance, Taylor stepped forward again. “Cards on the table?” He gave a slight nod, encouraging her to continue. “I need this story if I’m ever going to be seen as a real reporter. My first piece that actually means something needs to have something that everyone wants—the truth about Evan Buckley.”
The realization of where he knew her from hit him squarely on the head. He snapped his fingers, “You’re the traffic reporter, aren’t you?”
She scowled. “Exactly. You recognize me from doing stupid pieces up in the traffic helicopter. If I’m going to reach people about something that matters, I need you.”
“But I don’t need you,” Buck pointed out, leaning against his hood.
Taylor grimaced. “I think you do. You need someone who’s going to handle every piece of your story with care, and who will respect your wishes on things you don’t want touched. I’ll even let you read over it before I submit it to my editor. Your story is already out there, Buck, in bits and pieces that are disjointed and even blatantly false. There are young Sentinels and Guides out there who think their hero only got to be as powerful as he is by fighting in a war, and there are even pieces out there about how you’re not willing to mentor anyone.”
Buck reared back in surprise, the tendrils of dread in his stomach spreading throughout his bloodstream as the block of ice melted. “W—what? Why would they think that?”
“Because the truth isn’t out there to contradict them. We can work together to get the real story out.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sharp exhale. He would need to shoot Eddie a text about what he was thinking, but—fuck. If that was true, that kids were out there thinking they had to go out and joint he fucking military or put themselves in danger to get stronger, then wasn’t it his responsibility to steer them straight? Buck looked back up at Taylor, the edges of his lips curled down. “If I agree to do this, you can’t even touch my family. They’re off limits. That’s non-negotiable.”
She pursed her lips before nodding. “As long as you give me enough background to write what I need to, then I can work with that.”
“You say that now,” he mused with a hint of steel, “but I have a pretty big family.”
“I’m sure we can figure it out together.”
XX
Buck leaned forward in his seat, wrapping his hands around the warm ceramic coffee mug and gently blowing away the steam. After a quick call to Eddie to let him know his plans, Buck’s Sentinel begrudgingly agreed not to storm over and drag him home if Buck had the interview at the cafe off Rose Street so he’d at least be nearby.
Taylor slid into the booth across from him, taking a sip of her iced latte and placing the recorder down on the table between them.
His eyes flickered between the device and his drink, fighting off a grimace. “So, how does this work?”
“Normally, I would ask you a set of questions, but I think you’ll benefit more from just telling your story from your perspective. If I need some clarification on anything, I’ll ask.” She threaded her perfectly manicured fingers together. “So, where would you like to start, Buck?”
The Guide chewed on the inside of his cheek for a few moments, pondering. He finally blew out a breath. “My brother had juvenile leukemia.”
Whatever Taylor expected him to say, it obviously wasn’t that. Her eyes widened in surprise, but, to her credit, she didn’t move a muscle besides raising an eyebrow silently encouraging him to continue.
“He needed bone marrow for a stem cell transplant in order to survive, and neither my parents nor my sister were matches. So…”
When Buck gave a weak wave of his hand, Taylor nodded tightly, finishing for him. “You’re a savior sibling,” she frowned. “That didn’t come up in my research.”
Buck shook his head. “It wouldn’t. When they found out I was a match, I had to go through a few procedures when I was a kid. The final one is what triggered my manifestation as a Guide.” He ran a hand over his curls. “The GSGA came in and shut everything down, locking it up and making sure the confidentiality clauses were in place. They’re serious about the privacy of their Guides.”
Taylor hummed in acknowledgement. “I see. Do you remember what it was like when you manifested?”
“Only bits and pieces,” Buck glanced away, fighting back the long-buried memories of doctors in masks and the sharp bite of pain. “It wasn’t exactly a happy time.” He cleared his throat, ready to move on. “I was assigned a mentor, someone who had plenty of experiences with young Sentinels and Guides. He looked after me, and he helped make me a better person and a better Guide.”
“Was this mentor Robert Nash?”
Buck narrowed his eyes at her. “No comment. I don’t want any names included in this story unless I give the okay.”
Taylor huffed out in annoyance but gave a begrudging nod. “Fine. Go on.”
“My mentor recognized my abilities as a Guide differed a bit from others…instead of only being able to feel other people’s emotions, I could see them too.”
The reporter blinked at him, leaning forward in her seat in interest. “Can you elaborate on that?”
Buck’s lips twitched, and he gestured toward his chest. “Every emotion looks a bit different. I see yellow when people are happy, red when they’re angry, and so on and so forth. It took a while to really nail down what I was seeing, but it’s come in handy every now and then.”
“That’s—that’s incredible, Buck,” Taylor tapped the wooden table with her fingernails, looking as if she wanted to dig a bit deeper but holding herself back.
“It’s something, alright,” the Guide shrugged, shifting a little in his seat before continuing. “Anyway, my mentor realized that my parents didn’t really want anything to do with me—they were Naturalists when I manifested and never really forgave me for it—and took me under his wing. His family became mine.” Buck’s eyes drifted down to his hands as he flexed them around his mug. “I loved them—so much.”
Taylor paused, watching him for a moment before asking softly. “What happened to them?”
Buck swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat and pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the tears that always prickled at his eyes when he talked about the Nash family. “There was a fire when I was nine, and the only survivor was my mentor. He was lost in his grief—understandably—and had to step away from working with me after that. Everything changed.”
“That’s horrible,” she breathed out. “I’m sorry, Buck. That must have been so hard.”
He gave her a slight shrug. “I’ll never stop missing them, they were my family. I refused to take another mentor after that; thankfully the GSGA gave me special permission to submit my own reports. My mentor and I didn’t reconnect until I graduated high school, and I didn’t train under another Sentinel or Guide until I turned eighteen and traveled around North America for a few years.”
“How did you manage to convince the GAGA that you didn’t need another mentor? Kids with the Blessed Gene are assigned one when they manifest at puberty, but you were on your own a few years before that.”
“I might have only been nine,” he explained, “but I’d been training for five years at that point. I had more control than most adult Guides, and when I proved myself to the Pennsylvania representative of the GSGA, they agreed to give me some space.”
Taylor took a sip of her iced latte, leaning back to cross one leg over the other. “Interesting. I want a list of the places you traveled while you were training under the Sentinels and Guides later, but for now, what did you do after?”
Buck ducked his head as he replayed his homecoming scene in his head once again. “I went to visit some family friends—a Sentinel, who was like a brother to my mentor, and his son. They had a friend over at the time, retired Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarret. Steve helped convince me to join the SEALs.”
“Just like that?” Taylor asked incredulously. “What magic words did he say to make you change the trajectory of your life by going through, arguably, the most difficult training program in the entire United States military?”
The Guide couldn’t help the twitch of his lips upward. “There weren’t any magic words, not really. I was already a little lost after my training, not knowing where to go or what to do next. One of Steve’s buddies, Lieutenant Daniel Harrelson, was looking for a new Guide to join his team—their own had recently been medically discharged.”
“Is that the team you ended up with?”
Buck nodded, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Yeah. After I made it through Hell Week, Hondo sent each one of his team members down, one by one, throughout my few years of training, to help recruit me. I agreed pretty much right away.”
“Why?” She asked with a tilt of her head.
“Because all of them, each and every single member of that team, showed me that they’re a family and that they wanted me to be a part of it. They helped me fit in, showed me the ropes, and never made me feel like I didn’t belong. We’re just as close now as we were when we were actively serving together.”
Taylor didn’t seem to be able to keep the small smile off her face at that, and her gaze flickered over his face. “You and your team were all honorably discharged last summer, were you not?”
“We were,” he confirmed softly. “We were good at our jobs. Our unit had completed enough classified missions to a certain caliber, which gave us a reputation over our one and half Tours of Duty. During our final active mission, I overexerted myself as a Guide giving my team some space to get to safety and had to be put on medical leave. After that, Hondo was able to work out that we could serve out the remainder of our Tour of Duty in the Reserves. We all got to come home, and I recovered here in LA where my family had moved.”
“I’ll dig in a bit more later, but can you tell me anything about your time serving?”
Buck chewed on the inside of his cheek in contemplation. “No, but I will tell you that I met my Sentinel overseas.”
Taylor blinked in surprise, her eyelashes fluttering. “That didn’t come up in my research either. You knew Eddie Diaz before you started at the 118?”
“I don’t want his name included either,” Buck frowned, pushing away his now-empty mug. “But I didn’t. I was traveling with a few of my team members to rendezvous with the rest of them when we noticed a downed helicopter. I could see most of the crew was still alive and that there was a Sentinel stuck in a fugue state with insurgents closing in.” He picked at the skin at the base of his palm. “We were on a time crunch, so we touched down, and literally sixty seconds later, we were back up in the air. I didn’t have time to catch the Sentinel’s name, his branch, or even see what he looked like before we realized what had happened.”
“But wouldn’t you have at least recognized him as your Sentinel when you met him again on your first day with the 118?”
The Guide shook his head and shrugged. “You would think so, wouldn’t you? But I’ve been working on keeping my shields locked down tight since before I knew the importance of it. Even when he became my best friend, and later boyfriend, neither of us had any idea what we were to each other.”
Taylor rested her cheek atop a closed fist. “That’s…surprisingly depressing,” she pursed her lips. “Knowing that it’s possible to have your Sentinel or Guide right in front of you the whole time and not know it.”
“Honestly, I think people and the mainstream media put too much emphasis on the whole thing. Yes, I found my Sentinel, but I fell in love with him before I knew he was mine. There are so many people that believe that bonding is the relationship to strive for, that there won’t be any problems in your life or marriage if you can just find your bondmate. But…” Buck hesitated, wiping his palms across the thighs of his jeans. “But even then, we’re still only human—everyone makes mistakes. Life won’t suddenly be perfect or without difficulties.
“I had a call one time where a Sentinel and Guide passed away within minutes of each other,” Buck continued. “Before he died, the Guide told me ‘you don’t find it, son, you build it.’ I think that’s something everyone needs to remember.”
Taylor finished off her drink as well and moved it to the side before leaning forward with her fingers threaded together on the tabletop. “You’ve given us a bit of your backstory and your views on relationships and bonding. A lot of us in the Blessed Gene community are curious about your extraordinary gifts as a Guide. Can you elaborate on that a bit more?”
Buck nodded, taking a deep breath. “I know what you’re going to say, but I honestly don’t want young Sentinels and Guides striving to be like me. The only reason I’m as strong as I am is because I manifested when I was four years old—and that was due to enduring an incredible trauma without a support system. Why would anyone want to emulate that?” He ran a hand through his curls and tightened his other hand into a fist. “If they really want an honest opinion, I would encourage Sentinels and Guides to train under multiple mentors. Each and every person with the Blessed Gene has a different experience—shouldn’t we want to expand our own horizon instead of learning under a narrow point of view?”
“That’s honestly something I haven’t considered before,” Taylor admitted, tapping her sharpened nail against the recorder. “This won’t be our last conversation on the subject, I’ve still got plenty of questions, but I did promise you that I wouldn’t keep you past three.”
Buck’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Thanks, Taylor. I’m glad you can hold up your end of a bargain.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “As long as you hold up yours, Buckley.”
He moved to stand, holding out a hand. “I don’t go back on my word, you can trust me on that.” When she shook it, he stepped back toward the door. “Also, don’t expect to hear from me for another two weeks. If you try reaching out during my bonding ceremony or honeymoon, I won’t answer.”
Taylor let out an amused huff of air, gesturing toward the tall glass windows at the front of the diner. “I’ll respect your privacy, I swear. Now, get on back to your Sentinel. I can practically feel his over-protectiveness of you from here.”
Buck blinked, looking over to where she pointed. Sure enough, Eddie was leaning against the hood of his truck in his green Henley, arms crossed over his chest and wearing a light scowl. The Guide threw back his head in laughter and waved goodbye to Taylor. When he approached Eddie, the Sentinel pulled him into a tight hug and practically dug his nose into Buck’s neck.
“Baby, you said you would wait for me at home.”
“If you thought I’d leave you to the wolves, you haven’t been paying attention.”
When Eddie finally released Buck, the Sentinel led him over to the passenger side and opened the door for him, crowding between his legs.
“Thanks for coming, Eddie. I always want you here.”
His Sentinel pulled him into a quick and dirty kiss, claiming him in front of the Sentinel reporter no-doubt still watching them. “I love you, Evan. Now, let's go home and make sure everything is packed for our honeymoon.”