9-1-1 · firefighters · eddie dias · buck mcmichael · ptsd · protective · loyal · relationship · trauma bonding · father figure
The black truck rolled to a stop, its engine sighing into silence. Eddie Diaz sat for a moment, hands resting on the wheel, absorbing the rare stillness. In the passenger seat, Buck twisted around, his grin bright and infectious. “Okay, who’s officially declared a state of emergency due to hunger?” Christopher’s hand shot up from the backseat. “That’s me!” Buck’s laughter was a warm, proud sound. “That’s my kid.” Eddie pushed his door open, stepping out into sunlight that felt like a benediction. This—the simple act of arriving somewhere together—was the life he’d fought to reclaim. Buck was already at the rear door, crouching to help Christopher with his crutches. “You good?” “I’m good.” “Atta boy.” Eddie came around the front of the truck just a…