#bbe

A car door slams somewhere nearby and she glances up automatically, the familiar rush of anxiety of constantly being noticed bubbling up. But the couple that piles out of their car pay her no mind, so she keeps walking toward the building ahead. The sign is visible now, big blue letters mounted above the glass doors that fill her with excitement.

“Stop trying to talk me out of this,” she groans, softer but more pointed. 

Paige exhales through her nose, pushing a hand back through her hair where it’s still damp at the edges, not sure if it’s lingering from the grueling practice or from being out in the hot sun.

“I’ve looked at my schedule. I’ve talked to the trainers. I know when we travel.” She hesitates, listening. “Bro, I’m not making a rash decision because I’m lonely. Are you for real right now?” 

She slows as she reaches the sidewalk and glances up at the building again, at the streaked glass doors and the big logo on the window.

“Okay, mom. I’m here. I’ll call you later.”

She ends the call before the response comes through and lowers the phone. Staring at the dark screen for a second, she rolls her eyes. Of course DiJonai had decided that Paige’s very mature and well-thought-out decision to get a dog required a full risk assessment and unsolicited group discussion.

Paige slips the phone into her pocket and lets out a quiet breath, a mix of irritation and nerves. She loves DiJonai. She really does. But sometimes her friend forgets that Paige is capable of making decisions like an adult. And okay, maybe that has something to do with the fact that her fridge is never full of actual food, her snack drawer consists of potato chips and slim jims, and she insists her national championship net is actual decor, but that’s really beside the point. Paige has a lot of love in her heart and she wants to share it with someone. Preferably someone with a soft coat, and four legs; that won’t get mad if she doesn’t text back.

She reaches for the handle and stops, fingers curling around the metal.

Dallas Humane Society.

The letters stretch across the top of the building in thick blue letters, contrasting against the washed-out brick building. For a second, she just stands there, heat pressing at her back, heart beating a little faster than it should for something like this.

Then she tightens her grip, pulls the door open, and steps inside.

The first thing Paige expects when she walks into the Dallas Humane Society is dogs. Or at least animals, like a whole variety pack of them. Arike had told her once, very casually, that she adopted a ferret from here. Paige hadn’t asked follow-up questions at the time because the mental image of Arike living with a ferret was already too much. Although, Franklin is pretty cute. 

So okay, dogs, but also cats and birds and rodents. Maybe even some fish if that’s a thing people rescue? 

And, to be fair, when she steps inside there are animals. There’s noise, and barking that ricochets off the dirty tiles, and a woman holding a leash while a dog drags her like it’s late for a very important meeting while another person pets the most massive white bunny Paige has ever seen. 

But that isn’t what Paige notices.

Nope.

What Paige notices is the woman behind the counter.

She’s standing there with her elbows braced on the surface, looking down at something she’s writing like the chaos in the background doesn’t exist. Her black hair is half braided tight along her scalp, neat rows that look like they took patience, and the rest is pulled into a bun that sits high and a little messy, like she ran out of said patience or decided she had better things to do. Her face is stunning and it makes Paige’s brain go quiet because it needs to stop all other thoughts to make room for the fact that this might be the most beautiful woman she has ever seen in real life.

She stops walking entirely, right inside the doorway. Then the woman looks up and Paige’s stomach drops when those big brown eyes lock on hers. 

And honestly, Paige's brain forgets how to work for a second. Which is embarrassing. She has played in packed arenas, in front of hostile crowds, with cameras pointed at her face while trying not to vomit from adrenaline. She has stared down defenders who wanted to prove a point and smiled through interviews that were designed to get a rise out of her. And yet, she can barely walk up to a counter without losing her ability to form a coherent sentence. 

The woman’s mouth curves slightly, and oh my God, she has the cutest dimples and bunny teeth. While Paige is trying to remember how words work, the woman steps out from behind the counter and meets Paige halfway.

“Hi, I’m Azzi,” she says, voice light and soft, and absolutely fucking not what Paige expected. “How can I help you?”

Paige watches her approach and realizes, with a jolt of panic, that she is going to have to respond to this woman. Out loud. With words. Like the adult she just promised DiJonai she is.

“Dog,” she manages.

It comes out too blunt, and Paige wonders where her rizz has vanished to, because there is certainly no trace of it in her body right now. 

The woman’s brows lift, maybe slightly amused, but still attentive. “Okay,” she says, drawing the word out a touch. “What kind of dog?”

Paige opens her mouth. She has a list in her head. She did research, watched videos, and made notes. She talked to trainers and absolutely has opinions on energy levels and temperament and the merits of different breeds.

None of that survives the direct hit of those eyes.

“Beautiful brown eyes,” Paige stutters.

There’s a fraction of a second where the woman just stares at her, like she’s making sure she heard correctly. Paige doesn’t even try to backpedal. She can’t. Her brain is still stuck on the part where she accidentally said the quiet thing out loud and she could try to salvage it but that would probably make it worse. If that’s even possible. She’s not entirely sure. 

Then Azzi’s mouth twitches, the smallest hint of a smile, and she tips her head like she’s studying Paige. 

“Right,” she says. “Well… that’s… really helpful information.”

Paige presses her lips together, because the alternative is admitting she’s completely aware she sounds insane. And Paige is going to live in the delusional world she’s created where this interaction is still salvageable. 

The woman reaches behind her, grabs a clipboard off the counter, and flips to a form. Her tone stays friendly, but it shifts into something more official.

“Let’s get some details on you,” she says, pen poised. “Just so I can make sure you’re fit to own a dog before I let you back.”

Paige’s heart skips a beat. “Before you let me back?”

“Yeah,” Azzi replies. “Into the adoption area. We don’t just let anyone wander around back there. You’ve got to get approved.”

Paige’s mouth opens, then closes. She wants to argue on principle, mostly because she’s used to being allowed places, which is a gross thought but also completely true. Instead she just studies the clipboard wondering why the universe saw fit to have her vetted by the prettiest person she’s ever seen.

Azzi taps the top of the paper with the pen. “Okay,” she says. “What’s your name?”

Paige’s eyes narrow before she can stop herself. She doesn’t mean to make it a thing. It just happens; it’s almost automatic at this point. It’s the same look she gives a ref when they call something questionable. She’s never really been great at controlling her facial expressions.

Azzi looks back at her, unbothered, expectant.

Paige lets another second pass, then says, “You don’t know who I am?”

Azzi’s brow lifts. “Should I?”

It’s not rude or necessarily sarcastic, but she looks at Paige like she’s just a random stranger who walked in off the street. Like there’s not an entire billboard with Paige’s face on it a few blocks away. 

Paige’s confidence, which usually never takes a day off, pauses to regroup. For a second she almost laughs, because this is somehow the most disorienting thing that’s happened to her all week.

“No,” she says, forcing herself back into motion. “No. Sorry.” She clears her throat. “Uh, it’s Paige. Paige Bueckers.”

She thinks that might get a beat of recognition from her interrogator, but Azzi writes it down without hesitation, like it’s the same as if Paige had said her name was Emily from accounting.

“Okay, Paige,” she says, sliding her pen down the form. “Address?”

Paige gives it. 

“Do you rent or own?”

“Rent. For now.”

“Do you have any other pets?”

“No.”

“Anyone living with you?”

Paige hesitates. “Not permanently.”

The woman’s eyes flick up, curiosity flicking through them. “Meaning?”

Paige can feel herself starting to smile, because apparently she has no self-control in front of this woman. “Meaning I have teammates who think my apartment is their second home.”

That earns her a look that Paige could interpret as skepticism. But Azzi doesn’t comment on it, just keeps writing.

“Yard?” she asks.

“No.”

“Okay. What’s your schedule like?”

Paige hears the trap hidden inside the question and tries not to tense. “Busy,” she admits. “But manageable.”

“Mhm,” Azzi hums, still writing. “And what do you do for work?”

“I play professional basketball for the Dallas Wings.”

The pen finally stops.

Azzi sets the clipboard down on the counter with a calmness that feels a little too deliberate, then looks fully at Paige. Her stomach drops. She watches Azzi’s face carefully, waiting for the normal reaction. The recognition, the excitement, the comment about a game she caught, the question about her stats. Or, there’s the “my cousin loves you,” or a request for an autograph.

Instead, Azzi’s eyebrows knit together and she says, “Doesn’t that involve a lot of traveling?”

Paige stares at her, thrown for a beat. “Yes,” she says, careful. “It does.”

“And you want a dog.”

It’s not really a question, but it still lands like one. Paige feels judged so fast she almost laughs again, not because it’s funny, but because she can practically hear Dijonai in her head going, “See? Even the shelter lady agrees with me.”

“I do,” Paige says, keeping her tone casual, even as heat creeps up her neck that has nothing to do with Dallas. “And I have a plan.”

Azzi leans back slightly against the counter, arms folding, like she’s giving Paige the floor but also not giving her a fucking inch.

“A plan,” she repeats.

Paige nods quickly, probably too quickly but she’s kind of sick of everyone questioning her choices. “A whole plan. I have a dog sitter lined up and someone who can do overnights when we’re on longer trips. I’ve already looked at trainers and have the best vet in Dallas on speed dial. I know what I’m getting into.”

Azzi’s eyes stay on her, assessing. Paige thinks she’d absolutely get lost in those warm brown pools if she didn’t care so much about passing this test.

“And you’re sure?” 

Paige holds her gaze. “I’m very sure.”

“Mhm,” Azzi hums again, like she’s cataloging the answer but not quite buying it yet. “Because I’m not trying to be difficult, Paige. But it's my job to make sure a dog doesn’t end up back here in a month because the person who wanted it didn’t think past the cute part.”

Paige’s stomach twists. She’s not necessarily offended. She gets it. She really does. Still, she can’t stop the small edge in her voice when she says, “I did think past the cute part. I know what I want and what I’m capable of.”

Azzi watches her for a second longer, then sighs and reaches for the clipboard again.

“Okay,” she says. “Tell me your plan.”

Paige exhales slowly through her nose, then nods, convincing herself can handle this. She’s handled DiJonai so certainly this can’t be any worse. However, she wasn’t really prepared for the person holding the pen and doing the questioning to look like that while she did it.

After some back and forth, Azzi finishes the last few lines on the form, pen scratching steadily across the page in a delicate scrawl while Paige stands there, shifting on her feet awkwardly, trying not to look like she’s back in high school waiting on a scouting evaluation. 

“Okay,” Azzi says finally, flipping the forms back and setting the clipboard aside. She smooths a hand over the stack of papers and Paige feels like she’s sealing her fate. “Why don’t we go into the back and you can see who we’ve got.”

Paige blinks. “So I passed?” 

Azzi pauses halfway around the counter, brow furrowing slightly. “Passed what?”

“The little test,” Paige says, twirling her finger at the paperwork. “Y’know. The vibe check.”

Azzi’s lips tighten like she’s fighting back a smile. “That wasn’t a test. It’s just paperwork.”

Paige narrows her eyes, not believing that for a second. It certainly felt like a test. A hard one at that. “But I passed,” she insists. “Right? Because you’re letting me go back there to see dogs.”

There’s a beat where Azzi just looks at her, and then she laughs.

It’s easy and warm, hitting Paige somewhere in the ribs like a chest pass that Arike put too much muscle into just to be a dick.

Paige has heard entire arenas scream her name. She has heard the snap of the net on a buzzer beater that sent her team into the playoffs. She has heard commentators lose their minds on national broadcasts.

Literally none of it compares to that laugh. If she’s being honest, she wants to hear it every day for the rest of her life. 

Azzi’s laugh settles into a smile that lingers, eyes softening in a way that feels… admittedly not professional. “Sure,” she says with an exaggerated nod, still smiling. “You passed.”

Paige feels ridiculous and pleased at the same time, which is a dangerous combination. She does a small, subtle fist bump at her side, muttering “yes”  under her breath because if there’s one thing Paige loves, it’s winning. No matter the context. 

Azzi steps toward the hallway leading deeper into the building, gesturing for Paige to follow. “Come on,” she says. “Let’s see if anyone matches your very specific criteria.”

Paige wants to kick herself for the earlier failure, now that she’s regained her footing, but Azzi is smiling at her so there are worse things in life. She  falls into step beside Azzi, her heart beating faster than it has any right to. 

The barking grows louder as they move down the corridor. This must be where the dogs are, she thinks. But as she watches Azzi walk ahead, Paige has the disorienting realization that she would’ve followed her down any hallway she chose without a single question. Literally none. 

The door swings open and the sound hits Paige first.

It’s louder back here, a layered noise that’s part barking, part whining, part nails scratching against kennel doors and concrete floors. The air is cooler than outside but still warm and a bit stifling with an unfavorable smell. Every few feet a pair of eyes tracks them. Some bright and hopeful. Some wary. Some tired in a way that makes Paige’s chest twist a little bit. 

Rows of kennels stretch down the corridor, metal and concrete with hand-written tags clipped to doors. A volunteer in rubber gloves walks past with a mop bucket, murmuring to one dog, sticking his fingers in another kennel. Paige’s gaze flicks from cage to cage, trying to take it all in without looking like she’s about to lose it.

She forces herself to breathe, then glances at Azzi as if Azzi is the only part of this that makes sense.

“So,” Paige says, aiming for casual. “What do you do for work?”

Azzi looks at her like Paige has asked what the sun does. She extends her arm slightly, then opens both arms and gestures around them, the barking, the corridor, the chaos, like the answer is so blatantly obvious.

Paige feels heat rush up her neck so fast it almost makes her dizzy. “Oh,” she says, voice catching on the word. “Right. I guess I thought people just volunteered here.” She clears her throat, scrambling for recovery. “I didn’t know you could actually work here. That’s… that’s fire.”

“I’m actually the executive director,” she says. “But we’re short staffed, so here I am.”

Paige’s confidence snaps back into place “Must be my lucky day then.”

Azzi smiles and dips her head, and Paige watches it happen. There’s a faint pause, a second where Azzi’s eyes flick down like she’s composing herself, and Paige’s mind supplies the extremely unhelpful thought that she made her blush.

Azzi straightens, voice professional again. “Go ahead,” she says. “Look around. If you like any of them, let me know.”

Paige nods, trying to look like she is a person who can behave normally in the presence of a beautiful woman with big brown eyes, even when all she’s done thus far is prove she absolutely cannot.

She starts with the first kennel on the left, a shepherd mix who sits calmly, head tilted like he’s evaluating Paige right back. Paige crouches and holds her fingers out through the bars. He sniffs, accepts the contact, then turns his head away.

“Hi,” she whispers anyway. “You’re very handsome, sir. You also seem like you don’t give a shit about me. Respectfully.”

Azzi makes a noise that might be a laugh but quickly covers it with a cough.

Paige stands and moves to the next kennel. This one, a two year old cattle dog mix named Betty, according to her plaque, is bouncing, paws hitting the gate, blue eyes bright and frantic, tail whipping so hard it rattles the metal. Paige pets her through the bars and gets immediately licked, which makes her grin even as her hand gets wet with slobber.

“Okay,” she murmurs. “You’re adorable, Miss Betty. You’re also clearly a full-time job.”

The third kennel they come across is a pair of Chihuahuas, both small and trembling and dressed in tink pink jackets, pressed into the corner of the kennel like they’re trying to disappear into the concrete. Paige crouches again, lowers her hand, keeps her voice soft. They watch her with wide eyes, but don’t move.

“Those two are a bonded pair. They have to go together,” Azzi supplies. “We have someone coming to look at them later.” 

Paige swallows, glad for an excuse to not make up an excuse to keep walking. She stands slowly, giving the dogs space as she continues her journey down the line.

In the next kennel is a lab mix who shoves his face toward the bars and demands affection. He’s soft and wiggly and so undeniably adorable. Paige gives her attention willingly, scratching behind his ears, baby talking without shame.

“Oh hi, Captain! You’re so cute,” she says, her voice doing that ridiculous soft high-pitched thing that she can’t help. “You’re such a good boy. You could be famous. You could have brand deals.”

Captain pants happily, tongue lolling, and Paige smiles, but the feeling doesn’t click into place the way she thought it would. She’s charmed, but she’s not sure he’s the one, so she decides to keep perusing for her new best friend.  

After another couple kennels, Paige looks down the long row and lets out a deep sigh. The corridor stretches on, and the sheer number of kennels settles on her shoulders. It’s hard not to feel the sadness under the chaos, and the reality that for every dog here, there are more that never make it inside.

She finds Azzi’s gaze.

“There’s so many of them,” Paige says quietly.

Azzi nods once. “Yeah,” she says. “We have to turn a lot away, too. It’s tough.”

Paige’s mouth tightens. Her instincts kick in, that ever present feeling of wanting to fix any issue she encounters. “Should I maybe get two to help?” she blurts, then winces slightly. It’s impulsive, and she knows it. She barely passed the test-not-test for one dog, she doubts the director would let her leave with two. But she also knows she would do a lot of things if it meant easing the weariness in Azzi’s eyes.

Azzi laughs. “I appreciate the concern, but why don’t you try your luck with one first, superstar.”

Paige’s chest lifts with pride at the nickname, even though it’s clearly meant to be teasing. Because Azzi didn’t know who she was, so she clearly doesn’t know that Paige is, in fact, a superstar. She tries not to smile too hard but fails miserably.

“Well,” Paige says, as they start walking again, “do you guys take donations?”

Azzi glances at her. “The adoption fee is a donation. We don’t just give them away for free.”

Paige shakes her head quickly. “No, I know that,” she says, keeping pace. “I mean extra. Like… the Wings are always looking for charities to sponsor, and maybe we could do an adoption night at a game or something.” Her words come faster as the ideas start stacking one on top of another. “You could have some dogs there, and like, I don’t know, we could do a feature on the jumbotron. Maybe a little segment. We could get people to sign up to foster. Or donate supplies. Or…” 

She falters when she sees Azzi’s eyebrows narrow slightly, not in annoyance, though. At least Paige hopes not. She slows, suddenly unsure if she just said something stupid.

“What?” Paige asks.

Azzi shakes her head, and her voice softens. “Nothing,” she says. “You’re just… really sweet to think about all that.”

Paige grins before she can stop herself, because Azzi just called her sweet. And she’ll take that to the grave with her because holy shit, is Azzi flirting back?

“Right… um,” she rubs the back of her neck, not sure what to do with that new bit of information. “I’ll… uh… have our community relations team reach out,” Paige says casually, like she isn’t already picturing Azzi standing beside her at center court, smiling while holding a bunch of wiggly puppies in their arms. Because that’s one hundred percent the image in Paige’s mind right now. 

Azzi nods and hums, and they keep walking. The barking shifts around them, louder in some stretches, quieter in others. Azzi’s gaze flicks from kennel to kennel automatically, calling out their names because she knows each one.

“You know,” Azzi says after a beat, “maybe you could do a photo shoot here to raise some awareness. I’ve been trying to get some Cowboys players here, but if you and your teammates are interested…”

“Bet,” Paige says immediately, blue eyes lighting up in wonder. Because Azzi wants to see her again, and even if it is just to use her fame and charm to rehome dogs, Paige will take what she can get. Also, Azzi wants to take pictures of Paige. And she… wouldn’t want to do that if she didn’t think Paige was pretty, right?  

“I’ll get my whole team to show up. And I know CeeDee Lamb on the Cowboys, so he’ll bring some of his boys too.” Paige’s hands start moving as she talks, ideas spilling out in rapid succession now that she has a runway. “This place will be empty when I’m done with all these ideas in my head.”

Azzi laughs again, and Paige gathers that laugh like a reward.

“Is that so?” Azzi asks, amused.

Paige nods, dead serious. “Trust. We’ll do a whole calendar spread. And I’ll match all donations. Or maybe like one of those things where I donate for every point I score. I dunno… I’ll think of something good.”

“And do you score a lot?” 

“What?” Paige squeaks, trying to cover it with a cough as her mind ventures into extremely unhelpful territory. 

“Points… “ Azzi clarifies, eyes sparkling with mischief that let Paige know she’s keenly aware of her effect. “Do you score a lot of points?” 

“Right,” Paige clears her throat, reining in her thoughts that definitely did not discern Azzi’s question as something else. “Yeah, I mean… I’m pretty good.”

Azzi hums. “Maybe I’ll check out a game sometime.” 

This information does something irrevocable to Paige’s brain. The image of Azzi sitting courtside at her game, dressed in something other than muddy jeans and a humane society polo—not that she isn’t also rocking that out—cheering for her, flashes through her head.

“You… uh. Yeah. You definitely should.” 

They share a look that warms Paige’s entire body, before Azzi turns and keeps walking, leaving Paige to clamor after her.

“So what other great ideas do you have?” 

Paige keeps going, because momentum is a disease and she is currently infected. She starts listing more ideas, partnerships, themed nights, social posts, player features, sponsors. She’s halfway into her spiel that’s legitimately three steps away from becoming a full on strategic marketing plan when she realizes Azzi has stopped walking.

Azzi is just looking at her, expression unreadable in a way that makes Paige freeze mid-sentence.

Paige clears her throat and forces herself to dial it back, suddenly aware she might be insulting Azzi, like she doesn’t have all these ideas already. “Well,” she says, slower now, “I mean… you’re the boss. So whatever you think will work.”

Azzi’s lips press together, and when she speaks, there’s something honest under the dryness. “I’ve been trying to do literally all of that for years,” she admits with a sigh. “Just haven’t been able to get in front of the right people.”

Paige’s confidence returns. She tilts her head slightly, meeting Azzi’s eyes and leans forward to adjust the wrinkled collar of Azzi’s navy blue polo.

“Well,” Paige says, pulling her hand back, “you’re definitely standing in front of the right one now.”

Then she winks. It’s subtle and quick, but it’s also the move that usually works for her. 

Azzi’s stare holds for a second longer than it should, and Paige has no idea whether she just flirted successfully or signed herself up for another round of judgment. But then her eyes land on a kennel past Azzi's shoulder, full of fuzzy husky puppies. Like, an actual pile of them. Her eyes widen with pure glee. Their little gray-and-white faces are pressed up against the bars, tiny bodies wiggling, ears not fully sure what they’re doing yet, paws too big for the rest of their bodies. 

Paige points before she even thinks about it, the words flying out of her mouth with zero thought for her dignity.

“Please let me in there. Pretty please.”

Azzi glances over, then back at Paige, like she’s taking in the fact that Paige Bueckers, professional athlete, is begging like a kid to be let into a room of puppies, hands clasped in front of her and everything. 

She grins. “You’re serious?”

Paige nods emphatically, already stepping toward the kennel, running her sweaty palms over her shorts to dry them off like these puppies will judge her for it. “So serious, bro.”

Azzi shakes her head like she’s humoring something ridiculous, but she walks over and unclips the latch. “Alright,” she says, stepping aside. “Go ahead.”

Paige doesn’t even hesitate. She slips in and plops right down on the floor, gangly legs crossed, hands out, inviting the chaos. The puppies swarm immediately, climbing her thighs, shoving their faces into her hands, pawing at her shirt and Paige makes a noise that is absolutely not a normal adult sound. It might not even be really human. 

“Oh my god,” she shrieks, laughing, voice going soft and high in a way most people would think her incapable of. “Hi. Hi, you’re all so cute and perfect and insane. I love you all.”

She lets them crawl all over her like she’s a jungle gym. One puppy wedges itself under her leg, another tries to crawl up her shorts, while the most bold of the bunch climbs her shoulder.

Paige runs her hands over their fur, helpless and completely addicted to the softness. “Who wants to come home with me?” she coos, like she’s not talking to animals that will forget she exists in ten minutes. “Who wants me to feed them off my plate and chew on all my furniture?”

One of the puppies tries to chew on her sleeve, and she just grins. “Oh, hi little guy,” she says. “Please don’t do that, sir.” 

Azzi chuckles behind her but Paige barely registers it. She’s too enamored by fluff and puppy breath and tiny sharp little nails pressing into her arms and legs. 

“Who wants to come home with me and snuggle in bed every night?”

She glances up at Azzi on that one and winks, because Paige is Paige, and she literally cannot help herself. But then she turns right back to the dogs like she didn’t just flirt with the executive director of the Humane Society while being attacked by tiny fluffy husky puppies. 

One of them, an especially determined light gray and white boy with darker eyebrows and stunning blue eyes, starts tugging on Paige’s shoelace with tiny teeth, growling like it’s a real fight. Paige laughs and gently boops his nose.

“Hey,” she tells him, mock-stern. “You are stupidly cute but these are new, buddy.”

He ignores her, obviously, and just tugs harder so Paige scoops him up. Lifting him easily, the puppy immediately licks her face and then shoves his cold, wet snout into her neck, settling there like he’s decided Paige is his and that’s that.

Paige could picture it now. Curling up on the couch after a long day of practice, eating a bite of her Wingstop herself before sharing one with the puppy melted across her lap. She’d order plain wings, obviously, but Nai would still scoff. Or how’d she’d sneak him into the practice facility, dodging José who would definitely be fucking pissed about it. Nola would help her keep the secret. Probably. And she’d also need to order the cleaning staff lunch a few times during the whole potty training phase, but the DoorDash sponsorship would help with that.  

Paige’s smile softens as she cuddles him tight and thinks about all the adventures they’ll have. She looks at Azzi over the puppy’s head. “Is he available?”

She holds her breath when the words leave her lips.

Thankfully, Azzi nods. But Paige doesn’t feel relief because there’s a look on her face that Paige can’t place at first. It’s not really annoyed or disapproving, but there’s something under the surface that doesn’t read like joy at another dog leaving the shelter. 

Paige’s grin fades slightly. “What’s wrong?”

Azzi leans a shoulder against the kennel door, arms—arms that are actually quite muscular, not that Paige is looking—folding loosely over the chest, ruffing her polo a bit. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” she says, then she exhales. “It’s just… everyone always wants the puppies.” Her eyes move over the pile of fluff climbing all over Paige’s legs and the little one tucked on her chest. “These guys will be gone by the end of the day.”

Paige nods slowly, processing. She sighs and kisses the puppy once on the top of his head, then lowers him back down with a careful gentleness to rejoin his littermates. 

She stands, haplessly brushing fur off her black shorts, then looks at Azzi having just made a decision.

“Show me the dog who’s been here the longest.”

Azzi’s brows lift. “Are you sure? I’m not trying to guilt you if you think that puppy is the right fit…” 

And again with the people telling her what to do. 

Paige nods without hesitation. She steps out of the kennel and gently nudges the puppies back inside as they try to follow. “Someone will be here for you cuties soon,” she promises, voice a whisper like she’s keeping a secret from the rest of the dogs there. “Bye. I love you all. Be so good and have the best, most happiest lives.”

Azzi laughs at that and Paige grins, pretending it isn’t her favorite sound in the world. She follows Azzi down the long row, past more kennels until she stops at one near the end.

Inside, tucked into the back corner, is… a dog.

That’s literally the first thought Paige has. Just a dog. Not in the “what a handsome boy” way or really anything that involves being cute, per se. This one looks like someone took the leftover genes from five different breeds and tossed them in a blender. 

His fur is curly in places, straight in others, patchy along his back like it can’t decide what texture to commit to. The brown color of his coat is uneven, fading lighter around his muzzle, darker and almost muddy near his tail. One ear flops forward while the other sticks out to the side and his tail is too thin for his body and slightly crooked at the end.

If Paige had to guess, she’d say there’s some doodle in there. Maybe a retriever or lab. Definitely some pitbull. Maybe a shepherd. Probably something that once barked at a shepherd. She’s not entirely convinced a DNA test would come back with anything other than: Yes, this is a dog.

He’s pressed low into the corner of the kennel, paws tucked awkwardly under him, head dipped eyes wide, but not wild. He looks more unsure than anything, and is, objectively, not the dog that would get picked first. Or maybe even last, which Paige supposes is why he’s still here. 

And yet… there’s something about him.

Paige feels the pull before she understands it.

Maybe it’s the way he doesn’t budge when they approach, or how his nose twitches cautiously instead of snapping or retreating further. Maybe it’s the way his fur, despite the uneven curls and questionable grooming history, looks unbelievably soft right at the top of his big fat, disproportional head.

Or maybe it’s the way he watches them. His sad eyes not hopeful, like he’s resigned himself to living in this five by three foot cage for the rest of his life so it’s not even worth getting up to try. And for some reason, that makes him the most endearing thing she’s seen all day.

“This is Lenny,” Azzi says quietly, with a sigh like she’s already waiting for Paige to find a polite excuse to pass.

Paige crouches. “Lenny, huh?” Her voice turns soft on instinct and she glances at Azzi. “What’s his story?”

Azzi’s shift. She seems a little caught off guard, but her eyes narrow, expression more serious now. “He’s eight,” she says. “He came to us almost a year ago after his owner passed away.” She pauses, eyes on the dog, offering him a contrite smile. “He got passed around by family members for a while. Some of them… weren’t very kind to him, so he’s a little skittish at first.”

Paige’s jaw tightens, muscles tensing as she thinks about what kind of vile human can lay a hand on such an innocent being. And then her mind drifts to the way she was passed around after her parents divorce. Admittedly, it’s not the same thing. Plus, she eventually settled in with her dad and then got Drew. But still, deep down, she knows that listless feeling, of not knowing where home is. And this certainly isn’t a place any dog should call home permanently. 

Azzi keeps going, voice cracking just slightly. “He’s so sweet,” she says. “But everyone passes him up because he’s not the most social. The kennel situation gives him a lot of anxiety. He does better in quieter spaces. He just doesn’t show well in here.” 

She keeps her tone measured, but Paige has spent decades reading tells on the court and Azzi has them too. Paige sees the way Azzi’s eyes soften when they land on him, how her fingers wrap around the latch like she’s itching to go in there and pet him. This is someone who has spent months memorizing this dog and there’s something achingly tender about it. The way Azzi talks about him like he’s misunderstood instead of inconvenient.

Paige can tell he means a lot to Azzi, and that makes Paige tread lightly. “Can I go in?” she asks, quieter now.

Azzi studies her for a beat, like she’s deciding if Paige is worthy of him. Then she lets out a reserved sighs, unclips the latch and opens the door. “Yeah,” she says, handing Paige a treat from her back pocket. “Go ahead.”

Paige steps inside and lowers herself to the floor just inside the door, knees bent, hands resting on her thighs. She extends one hand out slowly, palm up with the treat resting on it, giving him room to decide.

“Hey, Lenny boy,” she murmurs. “How are you today?”

Lenny’s eyes stay locked on her hand, but he doesn’t move at first. His whole body looks braced for something bad.

Paige doesn’t let that deter her. She keeps talking in a low, gentle voice, the way she used to talk to Drew when he was a baby and Mila, now, when she’s trying to convince her to lie so Phee doesn’t yell at her for the whole ice cream after bed thing. 

“You don’t have to do anything,” she tells him. “You can just sit there and judge me. That’s fine. I get it. I’m kind of a stranger.”

She shifts slightly, sitting down fully, careful not to crowd him. Arm extended, hand lying on the floor beside her, Paige lets the minutes pass, humming an Olivia Dean song absentmindedly. Paige can feel Lenny’s eyes on her and Azzi’s eyes on her, but she doesn’t feel pressure. Doesn’t rush it.

Eventually, Lenny’s body loosens by a fraction. He inches forward, and takes one cautious step, then another. Then he pauses again like he’s fighting his own instincts, a war waging inside him. His eyes flick up to Azzi who just offers a soft, “It’s okay, Lenny.” 

Paige stays still, only wiggling her fingers slightly, inviting him. “There you go, bud,” she whispers, eyes wide, as he inches closer again. “That’s it. You’re doing great.”

He finally reaches her hand and sniffs, long and slow, then nudges her fingers with his nose before cautiously grabbing the treat with the most dainty bite. Paige’s heart clenches as he backs away to eat it. She casts a glance over her shoulder, catching Azzi with an absolutely beaming smile as he steps back into Paige’s space. She slowly slides her hand up and rests it on his head, fingers sinking into the curls. And she was right. They are impossibly soft. 

Lenny doesn’t flinch when Paige starts rubbing slow circles, murmuring nonsense in a soft stream, telling him he’s good and safe and sweet, like the words might rewrite the past year if she says them enough times.

After a few minutes, Lenny’s body shifts even closer. He hesitates once, then settles his front paws onto her leg like he’s testing her. Paige holds her breath, doesn’t move, just shoots Azzi a proud smile because she can’t believe he’s coming around. 

Then, something in him finally gives up the fight or maybe he just senses the pureness of Paige’s heart like they say dogs can, and he climbs fully into her lap. Curling against her, he lets out a long, shaky sigh that comes from somewhere deep.

Paige swallows down the knot in her throat when Lenny lifts his big dopey head and looks up at her. 

Those big brown eyes are soft and a little sad, but still beautiful in a way that makes her chest feel like it’s in a vice. Paige feels something inside her quiet, like there’s been tension buzzing under her skin for weeks or maybe even years and she didn’t notice until it was released.

“You wanna come home with me, Lenny?” she whispers.

Lenny just stares at her like he doesn’t have the energy to do much else, and Paige stares back like she’ll find the answer in his eyes. She can feel it, the certainty settling in as he gives her face one big lick before dropping his head back onto her lap. 

She looks over at Azzi. “This is my dog.”

Azzi’s expression is careful. “Are you sure?” she asks. “I know you really liked the husky puppies. And having an older dog can be hard. There’s an adjustment period and Lenny is a special case.”

Paige knows what Azzi is doing. She isn’t trying to talk her out of it. She’s protecting Lenny, making sure Paige understands what she’s saying yes to. But Paige’s hand just keeps stroking Lenny’s head, a newfound sense of calm washed over her. “I’m sure,” she says, and she means it with a certainty that surprises her.

Azzi exhales reluctantly. “Lenny is my favorite.”

She steps into the kennel and lowers herself beside Paige, reaching out to scratch Lenny’s head. Lenny relaxes even more, then rolls slightly in Paige’s lap, exposing his belly like he’s offering trust without reservation.

Azzi’s fingers move gently through his curls, though they get stuck in the more matted parts. “He’s had it rough the last year,” she explains. “He really deserves the best for the short time he has left.” She looks at Paige with a sense of hesitation. “Can you do that?”

Paige meets her gaze and nods assuredly. “I can definitely do that. I promise I’ll give him the best life.”

Azzi nods once, decision made. “Okay then.”

She stands and grabs a leash from the hook on the wall, clips it onto Lenny’s blue collar, then hands it to Paige, hesitating just a beat.

“Let’s go finish the paperwork.”

They take care of all the paperwork up front in a blur that feels surprisingly efficient and not nearly long enough for Paige’s liking. Which is saying something because there’s a lot to cover. Like more, Paige thinks, than she had to sign when she signed her rookie deal with the Wings. 

Still, she signs where she’s told, initials where Azzi taps with the pen, listens to the rundown about microchips and food transitions and follow-up vet appointments. And the whole time, Lenny stays pressed against her legs, sitting directly on top of her shoes and making sure she doesn’t disappear without him. Not that she would dream of it. 

Every so often Paige feels his weight shift, a small sigh escaping him, and she glances down with a warm smile, squatting down to pat his head a few times and feed him one of the treats Azzi insisted she take. 

Finally, Paige slides her card across the counter and tries not to think about how different this feels from any other purchase she’s made in the last five years. So much more permanent. 

“Thank you,” Paige says when it’s done, meaning more than the transaction. “I promise I’ll take the best care of our boy, okay?” 

Azzi nods, tucking the paperwork into a folder with a sigh as she meets Paige’s gaze. “I know you will,” she says. “And I’ll look out for a call about some promos from the Wings.”

Paige grins. “You will. I’ll give our community relations director a call when I get home and get Lenny boy settled.”  

Azzi smiles and walks them to the front doors. Right before Paige reaches for the handle, Azzi crouches down in front of Lenny and wraps her arms around him, pulling him into the tightest hug, pressing her cheek into his mess of soft curls. “You’re the best boy in the whole world,” she murmurs, voice soft in a way Paige hasn’t heard yet but absolutely wants to hear over and over again. “Be so good, okay? I love you and I’m gonna miss you, but I know you’re going to be so so spoiled just like you deserve.” 

Lenny leans into her like he understands every word, and maybe he does. 

Paige watches the whole thing and something warm spreads through her. It’s impossible not to see how much this place, and these dogs, mean to Azzi. Especially Lenny. 

Azzi stands slowly, brushing her hands down her shorts, and for a second their eyes meet and Paige swears she sees a tiny tear forming in the corner of Azzi’s eyes.

Paige takes a breath and reaches for the door.

Then stops.

She can feel her heart starting to sprint again, and she hates that it does that around Azzi, that she’s not in control. She shifts her weight, then turns back around before she can talk herself out of it.

“Hey,” she says, trying for casual but not coming close as she trips over the next words that leave her mouth. “Can I… um… maybe get your number? You know. In case I have any problems.”

Azzi’s mouth curves. She reaches into her pocket, and grabs a card and extends it toward Paige. “That’s the shelter’s direct line,” she says.

Paige looks down at the card, then back up at her a little dumbfounded. She thought she was being pretty straightforward. “Well like… what if it’s after hours?”

Azzi tilts her head. “Then you wait until we open the next morning?”

Paige frowns. “Okay, but like… what if it’s an emergency.”

God, she’s never had to try this hard. If anything, girls usually read too much into what she’s saying, not the other way around. 

“I thought you had a trainer and a vet all set up,” Azzi replies smoothly.

Paige huffs, because she walked right into that. “Okay, yeah, I do. But you and Lenny are like… friends.”

Azzi’s brows lift, amusement pulling the corner of her lip up into that adorable dimple. “Friends?”

Paige nods, smiling in a way that she knows probably looks a little unhinged. “What if he misses you? I mean, I gotta keep Lenny happy. It’s really for his quality of life if you think about it.” She gestures vaguely toward the dog who looks like he’s ready for his fifth nap of the day. Honestly, so is Paige with all the mental gymnastics she’s doing. “And you know… he doesn’t have a lot of years left, so we gotta make them good.”

She throws Azzi’s own words back at her without shame. 

Azzi just laughs. Then, without warning, she steps closer and reaches into Paige’s back pocket.

The contact is brief, her fingers just lightly brushing against Paige’s hip as she pulls the phone free, but a sharp jolt runs straight up Paige’s spine like that one time she shoved her finger into an outlet as a kid… or maybe it was college. 

Azzi holds the phone up in front of Paige’s face until it unlocks itself, then types in her number, and hands the phone back. Their fingers linger for half a second too long, the cool metal iPhone half in each grip.

“Lenny really likes ice cream,” Azzi says, looking up at Paige through long eye lashes.

Paige nods, trying to remember how to breathe.

“And so do I,” Azzi adds, softer with a smile that almost borders on shy.

Paige’s grin spreads before she can stop it, cheeks warming under the fluorescent lights. She knows Azzi can see how red she is, but she doesn’t even care. “Noted.”

She shoves the phone back into her pockets, and reluctantly pushes the door open, the suffocating rush of sweltering Dallas humidity hitting her again.

As Paige walks to her Jeep with Lenny at her side, leash secure in her hand, she glances down at him and smiles.

“You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

“I know,” you say quietly, keeping your eyes on Everett. “I don’t want to talk about it, though.”

“Are you sure?” Nancy asks. 

“Yes.”

Everett runs back over to you then, giggling about how cool the turtles are. He lifts his arms up to you and you sweep him up so he can get a better look at the reptiles floating towards the top of the tank.

“What do you think, Everett?” Nancy asks. “Are the turtles your favorite so far?”

His little face scrunches up in concentration as he thinks it over. The little furrow between his brows makes him look uncannily like his father. 

“Dolphins,” Everett decides. “But I like the tootles and ottahs, too.”

“Wanna go see what’s next?” you ask. Everett nods his head and scoots down from your arms. His little hand slips into yours as you make your way into the next room. Jellyfish were the next creatures awaiting you. They don’t interest the boy as much and it isn’t long before he’s curled up in his stroller, snoozing gently with his new stuffed otter in his arms as you and Nancy leisurely walk through the rest of the aquarium. Nancy respected you saying you didn’t want to talk about what happened between you and Eddie, but you know she’s still silently itching to know. So, you decide to let it out. 

“Okay,” you say with a sigh. There’s a bench at the other end of the room and you nod in that direction. Nancy follows behind you as you push Everett in the stroller. Between the seat and the wall, there’s a big enough gap for you to park the sleeping little boy and sit down next to him. 

“What’s up?” Nancy asks as she takes her spot next to you. Taking a moment to collect your thoughts, you watch the bright and colorful fish swimming before you in their tank. The light filtering through the blue water reflects and casts shadows against your face. 

“Eddie… He, well, he uh… When I went to ask him if he wanted to go out again, he said yes but he wouldn’t even look at me. Obviously, something was up. I asked him and he starts saying how he’s never dated a mom before and how it’s a lot.” Pressure begins building behind your eyes and you need a moment to take a deep breath before continuing. “He dumped me. Makes sense, though. It was the first time he really saw me be a mom, you know?”

“That’s,” Nancy starts before trailing off with a sigh. “That’s really shitty. I’m sorry that happened.”

Not trusting your voice, you shrug your shoulders and nod your head. Hopefully, Nancy reads that as you accepting her sympathy. 

“Yeah,” you manage to get out in a hoarse whisper.

Nancy’s brow wrinkles in confusion as she thinks over your words, though. “But, why would he say yes to a second date at all if he wanted to stop seeing you?”

“I don’t know.” Quickly, you wipe your nose on the back of your hand, trying to dispel the impending tears. “Maybe he wanted to ease me into it. Didn’t want to come out with a flat-out no. Especially with everyone else there at the party.”

“It’s his loss,” your best friend tells you. She rests her hand on your shoulder and gives it a light squeeze. “He’s an idiot and doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

The best you can do is offer her half a smile. It would be pointless to voice your self-deprecating thoughts that state the opposite because, the amazing friend that she is, Nancy would have a rebuttal for all of them. Later, a pep talk would be something that will help you. Right now, it would just go in one ear and out the other. 

“Ready to get going? Hopefully, this sleepy head won’t wake up in the middle of his naptime and be a little menace,” you say.

“A menace? Everett? Never.” Nancy’s smirk makes you chuckle as you stand up from the bench. 

“He’s Steve’s kid, of course he’s a menace sometimes,” you reply.

“You got me there,” Nancy admits, standing up beside you and walking with you toward the exit. 

“What’s going on?”

Dustin doesn’t want to shush his date, but his mind is entirely focused on something other than her. He takes a few steps out of the shadow he and Geri had been standing in when he first noticed you and Nancy walk past him and over to the bench to sit. A smile had lit up his face when his eyes landed on the pair of you, but as soon as he saw the downtrodden expression on your face, he bit his tongue. Dustin hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but how could he not when you were only a few feet away? 

She thinks she was dumped, Dustin thinks. Why does she think Eddie was dumping her?

“Dustin?” Geri asks. 

“Yeah?” he responds, trying to settle himself back in the present moment. 

“You okay?”

“Fine,” he tells her with a smile. “You wanted to go see the penguins, right?”

“Yes!” Geri takes Dustin’s hand and gives it a squeeze as they head in the right direction for the exhibit.

Maybe Steve will know what’s going on. I’ll have to track him down after this date.

The sun is setting as Dustin drives down the lonely road after dropping Geri off at her place. He’d had a nice time with the girl he met at work, but it was obvious to both of them that his mind was somewhere else the last half of the date. Now, he’s heading towards the station to see if Steve’s on call tonight or not. 

His car is parked outside in the small parking lot, but Dustin knows there’s a chance his friend could be out on the ambulance for a call. Taking his chance, Dustin gets out of the car and pockets his keys as he walks into the open bay that houses the ambulances. 

“Hey, Thompson,” Dustin greets one of Steve’s fellow paramedics. 

“Henderson, how ya doing? Looking for Harrington?”

“Yep.”

“He’s inside,” the paramedic says, nodding his head towards the open door that leads to the interior of the station. 

Dustin gives him a salute in thanks before walking inside and looking around the small area. He finds Steve in the kitchen, feet kicked up on one chair while he lounges in another, bowl of cereal in his hands.

“Dufstin?” Steve asks, mouth full of Captain Crunch and milk. “Wha’re you doin here?”

“Wanted to talk to you.” Dustin grabs another chair and turns it around before sitting on it backwards and resting his arms on the back. 

“Bout?” Steve asks before swallowing what’s in his mouth.

“I had my date today, you know,” Dustin starts.

“Oh yeah. How was it?”

Releasing a sigh, Dustin tilts his head up and stares at the ceiling for a moment before looking back down to Steve who’s shoving another full spoonful of cereal in his mouth. 

“Was good. Until I overheard a conversation between your ladies.” Dustin had started referring to you and Nancy as “Steve’s ladies” a couple of years back, and at first, you and Nancy rolled your eyes at the term. But when Dustin offered to change it to “Steve’s girlfriend and baby mama,” you two thought being called ladies wasn’t so bad. 

“Oh, they took Ev to the aquarium? That’s funny. Wait–why was your date good up ‘til then?”

“Because I overheard them talking about Eddie.” The look Dustin gives Steve has the older man frowning and straightening his posture in his seat.

“Why’re you staring at me like that?”

“Eddie told me a different story at the party than what I heard today,” Dustin says, ignoring Steve’s question. Steve’s stomach sinks with guilt. Shit, Steve thinks. Eddie told Dustin what happened and now he knows this is all my fault. But Dustin’s next words surprise him.

“What do you know about what happened?”

“Why do you think I’d know anything?” It sounds more defensive than Steve intended, but he knew he’d end up caving and spilling his guts to his best friend anyway. 

“You drove her home last night,” Dustin says, raising his eyebrows. “What did she say?”

“She said she’d been dumped.” Suddenly, Steve finds the contents of his bowl interesting and keeps his gaze on the last few pieces of golden cereal floating around. 

“Eddie said he just wanted to take things slow because of Everett.” Dustin bites at his bottom lip for a moment, eyes staring at the floor next to him, mind somewhere far away. “Why did she think he was breaking up with her?”

At first, Steve thinks it’s a rhetorical question—and maybe it is. But the way Dustin stays silent, as if waiting for Steve to say something, weighs on him and he feels the need to break the silence. 

“I-I don’t know, maybe she…”

“Steve.” The harsh tone of Dustin’s voice has Steve looking up from his bowl, his brown eyes swimming with guilt. “What the hell did you do?”

Conscience finally becoming too heavy to bear, Steve thunks his bowl down on the table and runs his hands over his face. He’s never wished for that alarm to go off for an emergency call more than he does right now. 

“Shit,” he hisses. The weight of Dustin’s glare makes Steve’s skin crawl as he sits up properly in his chair and kicks away the second chair he’d had his feet on. “Look, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. All I said to Eddie was that I didn’t want Everett to become attached to him if he wasn’t going to stick around. Is that so wrong of me?”

“Jesus Steve, they’ve been on one date! They’ve known each other a few weeks!”

“I know. I’m an asshole,” Steve responds, not quite yelling but certainly louder than he was talking before. “I just felt really fucking weird about everything, okay?”

Dustin shakes his head in disbelief before leveling his gaze on Steve again.

“What, did you think she’d be a single mom forever, never fall in love, while you have Nancy?” The question isn’t meant to be mean, but it stings Steve nonetheless. He never wanted anything less than the best for you.

“No! Of course not. She deserves to be happy. It’s less about her–”

“About Everett, yeah,” Dustin interrupts. “Dude, Eddie isn’t trying to be his dad.”

“I know, I know!” Steve pushes himself out of the chair and begins to pace back and forth. Dustin’s eyes track him all the while, as if he’s watching a tennis match. “I just don’t want my son getting hurt.”

“Well, no shit,” Dustin scoffs. “But it looks like things were going fine until you opened your big mouth.”

Steve sighs and ceases his pacing. He purses his lips and stares in the direction of the wildlife calendar on the otherwise blank wall in front of him, lost in thought. Hadn’t he known what he was doing was wrong all along? If it wasn’t wrong, he wouldn’t have tried keeping the conversation secret from those around him. 

“What do I do?” he finally asks.

Dustin’s eyes bulge, thinking the answer was the plainest thing in the world. “Fix it!”

“How?” Steve runs his hands through his hair, a sure sign of his agitation. He’d definitely be looking in a mirror as soon as possible to straighten it out. Dustin cocks his head at his friend and shrugs one shoulder. 

“Your big mouth got you into this. Try using it to get out of it.”

As if concentrating wasn’t hard enough for you at work on Monday morning, Mrs. Montgomery says that you need to reshelve books in the romance section. Every time you pick up a book there’s either a couple embracing or a title about love or some affection-laced mushiness. It’s nauseating and you don’t even realize you’re slamming the books around until you whack one on the cart too hard and it goes flying halfway down the aisle. A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you trudge over to pick it up. A face pops around the corner and you’re startled to see Nancy standing there. 

“I was going to surprise you for lunch,” she says as she comes to stand fully between the bookshelves, “but uh…are you okay?”

“Fine,” you say as you notice the lunchbox Nancy is holding. You take in the flowy floral summer dress she’s wearing and become self-consciously aware that you’re in an old pair of jeans and a black polo shirt. 

“Lunch?” Nancy asks, holding the lunchbox up in front of her face.

The two of you go into the back room and she unpacks the sandwiches she made and two cans of coke. She waits until you’re both a few bites into your food before she speaks.

“So, Steve called from the station last night. Said Dustin paid him a visit there yesterday afternoon.”

“Oh?” You pop open your soda and take a fizzy sip.

“Mhmm,” she hums as she finishes the bite she just took. “Apparently, Steve was a bonehead and said something to Eddie at the party.” At the mention of his name, you feel anxious, and it must appear on your face because Nancy rushes to get the next sentence out. “He said he didn’t remember exactly what he said but it was something about not wanting Everett to get hurt. Don’t worry, Steve said as soon as you both get off work this evening, he’ll be over and groveling at your feet. Well, he said he’d apologize but I’m going to make sure he grovels.”

Anxiety turning to anger, you wipe your hands off on a napkin and nod your head. “Nancy, if I murder Steve and the judge is a woman, do you think I’d be able to get away with it?”

Your best friend considers this, tilting her head from side to side as she thinks.

“You’re less likely to get caught if I help you hide the body.”

On Tuesday afternoon, Dustin drives towards Benny’s Burgers with Eddie in his passenger’s seat. Yesterday, Steve had begged Dustin to get Eddie to come to the diner on his lunch break so he could talk to him. 

“I’m not leaving you alone with him this time. You need supervision,” he’d told Steve. So, Dustin had called up Eddie and asked if he wanted to grab lunch together the next day. Whether or not he mentioned that Steve would be there, well he figured a lie by omission wasn’t really a lie. 

Steve’s standing outside the diner when Dustin pulls into a parking space. Eddie’s brows furrow in confusion and he looks over to see Dustin avoiding his eye. 

“Why’s Steve here?”

“He, uh, wants to talk to you,” Dustin says, glancing in his direction. 

Eddie sighs and drops his head back against the headrest. He’s not entirely sure how he feels. He isn’t exactly mad at Steve, but he doesn’t have the warmest feelings towards the man. 

“You can definitely tell him just to fuck off,” Dustin offers as he unbuckles his seatbelt. 

“Nah,” Eddie says with another sigh. “Might as well hear what he has to say.”

Dustin already knows what Steve has to say because they’d practiced it over the phone last night and then again this morning. He didn’t hide the fact from Steve that he was afraid he was going to fuck this up even worse. 

Steve awkwardly greets both men as they get out of the car. There’s a tense silence between the three of them as they head inside and sit down at a table. Dustin almost picked a booth but didn’t want to be shoved into a seat with either of them in case things got ugly. The waitress who comes to take their orders has to sense the uneasiness that was settled over the table. Steve waits a few moments after she walks away before clearing his throat and starting his prepared speech.

“Look, Eddie, I shouldn’t have said anything to you the other day. It wasn’t my place.”

“But you’re right,” Eddie says with a shrug. He lifts his eyes from the table to look at Steve where he’s seated across from him. “He’s your son and you want to make sure he’s not gonna get hurt. I don’t want to hurt anyone, that’s why I wanted to talk to her about slowing things down. For Everett.”

“Is that what you said to her?” Steve asks. 

Eddie sighs and brings a hand up to rub along his eyebrows. “I tried.” He throws his hand out to the side before nervously rubbing it along his stubble. “But she started to get upset and I got confused.”

“She, uh,” Dustin starts, letting out a small cough, “thought you were breaking up with her.”

“What?” Eddie turns his attention to the younger man, completely flabbergasted by his words. “Why? Why would she think that?”

“Her anxiety,” Steve says, lightly rapping his knuckles against the tabletop. “It makes her brain tell her all kinds of shit that isn’t true.”

“Her insecurities get the better of her,” Dustin adds. “Makes her jump to the worst-case scenario.”

Eddie takes their words in, nodding absentmindedly as he tries to wrap his head around this.

“What? Does she think I don’t find her attractive? Because she’s fucking gorgeous,” he says. 

“No, it’s not that,” Steve says with a shake of his head. “Well–it may have crossed her mind, but that’s not what this was about. It’s about her being a mom.”

This only adds to Eddie’s confusion and his face wrinkles up as he squeezes his eyes shut. “Why would that bother me?”

“Unfortunately, it would bother a lot of guys,” Dustin says. Eddie shakes his head in disbelief as if this personally offends him. 

“Look,” Steve says, leaning his elbows on the table. “I just wanted to apologize and sit down to talk with you. You seem like a good guy, Eddie. She needs a good guy.”

Eddie’s shoulders slump as he slides down in his seat. The array of emotions he’s felt over the last twenty minutes is enough to give him whiplash. They buzz around his thoughts like bees, but he tries to shake them off and just focus on one thing: you. How he feels about you. How you’re out there thinking that he didn’t want to be with you all because you have the sweetest kid he’s ever met. Bitterness burns his stomach, and he knows he has to talk to you as soon as he can. But would you even hear him out?

“If she thinks I broke up with her, will she even want to see me?”

Dustin nods his head. “Nancy went to see her and told her that this one over here opened his yap when he shouldn’t have.”

It’s all Eddie needs to hear before he’s fishing out his wallet and tossing a twenty on the table. It’s more than enough to cover what he and the other two ordered. Hungry stomach be damned, you’re more important. He’s confident either Steve or Dustin will eat the lunch he ordered, and he gives them a half-assed wave as he jumps out of his seat and heads for the door. Dustin jogs out after him and slaps a hand down on his shoulder.

“I drove you here, Romeo.”

“Oh, right. Could you take me back to the garage so I can get my van?”

“No problem.”

As soon as Eddie gets into his van, he pulls out onto the street and races towards the library. His eyes dart to the clock on his dash and he prays you haven’t had your lunch break yet. Even if you did, it was unlikely the library would have so many people in it that you wouldn’t have a minute to talk. He makes a quick attempt to make himself look as presentable as possible in his rearview mirror before hopping out of the van and taking large strides up to the library door. Brown eyes scan around the room, looking for any sign of you as he makes his way to the front desk. That’s where he’s seen you the most but lets out a little huff when he sees you’re not the employee who is behind the desk today. The brunette on duty tells Eddie that you had been at work that day, but your son was sick, so you went to pick him up and take him home. 

The adrenaline that was coursing through Eddie’s veins at the thought of seeing you and maybe sorting this whole mess out starts to dissipate, and it makes his limbs feel heavy and his body sluggish as he makes his way back to the van. Boosting himself inside, Eddie slams the driver’s door and lets his head fall back against the headrest. If Everett is sick, Eddie figures that you probably won’t be up to talking. Maybe he’ll call you after Everett goes to bed and pray that you hear him out. Smacking a hand against the steering wheel out of frustration, Eddie takes a few moments to collect himself before starting the van and heading back to work.

Eddie paces back and forth in front of the phone hanging on the wall of his trailer. The edge of his thumb is being gnawed on by his teeth as the nerves start getting to him. He wasn’t even this scared to call you the very first time. But what if even after he explained the miscommunication you still didn’t want to see him? What if you don’t even want to hear him out at all? What if, what if, what if. 

“Just do it,” Eddie grumbles to himself before snatching up the phone. He dials your number and holds the phone against his ear, starting to pace again, but only as far as the cord would let him this time. The phone barely rings once before he hears your sweet voice.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Eddie says as he brings up his free hand to rub at the back of his neck. “I-Is this a good time?”

“Oh.” Eddie hears the surprise in your voice when you realize it’s him on the line. You didn’t expect him to call? That seems like confirmation that you really did think he was breaking up with you. The thought makes the crack in his heart even deeper. 

“I-I went by your work at lunchtime, but they said you had to go get Everett because he was sick. Is he feeling better?”

“Uh, yeah,” you answer. “I gave him something for his fever and he just fell asleep. It’s why I picked up the phone so quickly–I didn’t want it to wake him.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Eddie says, heaving a sigh. “I didn’t mean to bother you o-or take your time away from Everett. I guess I just wanted to see if you would be okay to talk for a few minutes after his bedtime because I just couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to tell you at lunch but you weren’t there, and I can’t go another day with you thinking I was trying to break up with you.”

There’s a beat of silence as your brain registers what he just said. To Eddie, it feels like an eternity before you speak.

“Wait. W-What?”

“Sweetheart, I am head over heels, over the moon for you. I was only going to say we should take things slow because of Everett.” Eddie isn’t sure he’s ever poured his heart out for anyone like this, let alone someone he’s only known for a few weeks. But there’s something about you that makes Eddie feel like he could tell you anything and everything–and he practically has over the nights you two have spent on the phone together.

“But you said…” You trail off as the sound of whining comes from Everett’s bedroom.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Eddie says, tone softer and lighter now. “We can talk later. Take care of your boy.”

There’s rustling on the other end of the phone before you reply. “Um, I’m staying home with him tomorrow. Y-You can call or come by after work if you want.”

“How about I call on my lunch break and see how the little dude is feeling? I don’t want to intrude if the poor kid is feeling lousy,” Eddie offers.

“Yeah, okay,” you say. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Eddie.”

“Have a good night, sweetheart.”

Everett is still sick when he wakes up the next morning. He spends most of his time curled up on the couch with his head in your lap. The gentle stroke of your fingers through his soft brown locks seems to soothe him as he rewatches the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle VHS that you’ve rewound so many times you’ve lost count. You can tell your son is feeling better as the morning goes on by the way he squirms around and talks more excitedly about what’s happening on the television. 

When the telephone rings, Everett’s head pops up and he stares at the phone on the wall. Luckily, he’s shuffled off of you enough that you don’t feel bad for getting up to answer it. Still, you keep your eyes on the little one as you pick up the phone and lean against the wall–mom anxiety is always on duty. 

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Eddie says, voice only slightly more confident than it was yesterday. 

“Hi, Eddie.”

Everett sits up straight, eyes widening when he hears the name. Despite the mixed feelings that have been churning through your system for the past few days, a small smile graces your lips at Everett’s obvious excitement. Small chubby hands reach up and make a grabbing motion.

“Eddie! Wanna talk!”

“How’s Everett?” Eddie asks before you have a chance to say anything to your son. By the lack of clanging and scraping in the background, you can tell Eddie is on his lunch break though, so probably doesn’t have time to chat with both you and Ev. 

“He’s better,” you tell Eddie. “Jealous that I’m the one talking to you right now, actually.” 

This makes Eddie chuckle, and the sound sends butterflies flying throughout your whole body. 

“He up for a visitor later then?” he asks.

“Honestly, I think he’d love that.” So would you, even though your heart–or is it your anxiety? — is hesitant to admit it. 

“What about you?”

The question softens you a little. It reminds you of Eddie’s kind and thoughtful nature and how considerate he’s always been of how you feel. God damn it, Steve, you think. Why’d you have to interfere and mess me up more than I already was?

“Yeah,” you say, nodding your head. “I wouldn’t mind seeing your handsome face either.”

Eddie lets out an exhale and you can practically feel the apprehension releasing from his body, only to be replaced by relief. 

“Great,” Eddie says, his voice more chipper than it’s been in days. “I’ll just get cleaned up once I’m off of work and I’ll be there.”

When you hang up the phone, warmth surges through your body. Eddie didn’t want to break up; he only wanted to protect your sweet son from potential disappointment. Leave it to Ev to burrow his way into your boyfriend’s heart within a matter of weeks.

Little did you know, Eddie would say the same about you. 

Of course, the first time Eddie experiences traffic in Hawkins is when he’s trying to get home to get ready to see you. He pulls up to a red light and lets out an irritated sigh. His head lolls to the side as he impatiently waits for the signal to go. A store on his right catches his eye and Eddie’s tongue pokes out of his mouth as he ponders the idea rolling around his brain. Deciding to head in, he flicks his blinker on and turns into the shop’s parking lot.

Eddie finds what he’s looking for almost instantly and drives back to his trailer so he can wash up and make himself look presentable for you. He toys with the thought of adding a dab of cologne, but he knows he already smells like oil and gasoline and he’s not sure the cedar scent would mix well with those. 

After what seems like a lifetime, Eddie finally arrives at your place and jogs up the steps to your apartment door. A sudden feeling of apprehension bubbles up in his chest. This is the first time he’s going to see you since the misunderstanding where you hastily left with your sleeping son in your arms. Eddie hopes this time his words will come out more concise and he can convey what he really feels, not just enough vague statements that leave blanks large enough for your anxiety to fill in the rest. A giddy, infectious child’s laugh floats through the wood of the door and it brings a smile to Eddie’s face. The sound calms his nerves and gives him the push to raise his fist and knock. 

Every beat of his heart from the time he knocks and the time you answer the door makes him feel like his blood is pumping too fast. But your smile when your eyes land on him has him practically melting at your feet, so maybe the rapid rush of blood is all that’s keeping him upright. 

“Hi,” you say, biting your lip with a shy smile. It makes Eddie want to combust. 

“Hi,” Eddie responds.

“Eddie!” Everett runs over and wraps his arms around the man’s legs. Eddie chuckles and smooths a hand over the boy’s chocolate waves of hair. 

“Hey, little dude. You feeling better?”

Everett looks up and nods his head. “Yep!” Your son notices the plastic bag Eddie is holding and tries to peer inside. “Whassat?”

“Honey, let Eddie inside before you try and mug him,” you say, ushering Everett back into the apartment. Eddie chuckles as he steps inside and crouches down in front of Everett. You watch the pair of them as you close the door and there’s a fullness in your heart you’ve never felt before. 

“Well,” Eddie says, setting the bag down on the floor next to him. “I heard you weren’t feeling so great, so I thought I’d bring you a little something.” He pauses and lets out a sigh. “But it seems you’re feeling better now, so I guess you won’t want it.”

“No, no, no!” Everett protests, bouncing up and down on the spot. “I do, I do want it!”

“You sure?” Eddie teases, raising his eyebrows at the boy. 

“Yes!” Everett promises.

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

Your son is practically vibrating out of his skin as Eddie reaches into the bag and pulls out a Spider-Man action figure. Everett’s eyes widen and his hands come up, but don’t reach for the toy. He seems too transfixed to consciously move his arms to take it. Eddie chuckles and glances over at you. 

“You like Spider-Man, right?” he asks.

Everett nods and finally reaches his little arms forward to take the doll from Eddie’s grasp.

“He’s da bess,” Everett replies, his voice revealing that his sinuses are starting to get worse again now that evening is approaching. 

“What do you say?” you prompt.

“Thank yew! So’s much!” Everett flings himself forward and wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck. It’s such a strong squeeze for a little boy and it takes Eddie by surprise. He doesn’t hesitate to hug your son back, though. A large ringed hand rubs up and down his small back.

“You’re very welcome.”

Everett pulls back and stares at the toy. A grin lights up his face, dimples on full display, and runs back over to the couch. He hops up and kicks his tiny legs over the edge as he moves Spider-Man’s arms and legs into different positions.

“You didn’t have to—,” you start, but Eddie cuts you off.

“I brought something for you, too.” He pushes himself up to his feet and picks the bag back up. You’re shaking your head, but Eddie just smiles as he pulls out a Tupperware container. “Made some more of those cherry cobbler bars for you last night.”

You accept the baked goods from him and shake your head again. Eddie would’ve thought you were rejecting it if it weren’t for the soft smile on your lips.

“Okay, I’m going to ask you again. Where's the catch with you?” you ask. 

“Hmm,” Eddie muses as he slips his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Pretty sure we’ve discovered that it’s me not being able to articulate the things I’m thinking.” 

“I guess that mixed with my anxiety-riddled brain is the perfect recipe for some miscommunication, huh?”

Eddie opens his mouth to respond, but Everett lets out a sneeze loud enough to wake everyone on your floor. He looks at the boy as you check your watch and let out a sigh. 

“Time for more medicine, Mister,” you announce. Everett pouts and flops back on the couch. The medicine makes him drowsy, so you know that once he takes it, he won’t be grumpy for long. “Come on, you know it makes you feel better.”

“Blech,” Everett groans as he keeps his eyes on the superhero doll in his hands.

Eddie heads towards the couch while you set the Tupperware down in the kitchen and pick up the bottle of Everett’s grape-flavored medication. The little cup it gets poured into has some medicine from this morning now sticky on the bottom of it, so you wash it out as Eddie takes a seat.

“When I was little,” Eddie tells Everett, “my uncle would give me medicine and it tasted so bad.”

“Mine too!” Everett says, pushing himself up to a seated position.

“He taught me a trick though,” Eddie says. “If I pinched my nose closed, I couldn’t taste it!” 

“Like if ya swimmin’?” Everett asks.

“Exactly like that!” Eddie takes his thumb and forefinger and plugs his nostrils shut to demonstrate. Everett giggles and copies the action.

“Okay, let’s test it out then,” you say as you bring over the dosage for him. He still looks a little hesitant, but Eddie shoots him a wink and the boy nods his head and holds his hand out for the medicine. The new action figure gets put down on the cushion next to him so he can use the other hand to pinch his nose closed. 

An amused look is shared between you and Eddie as Everett takes a deep breath to steady himself before he downs the grape syrup like you would a shot of vodka. Once he’s swallowed, Everett holds his nose for a moment longer before letting go. He pauses, determining if Eddie’s tactic worked or not. A small gasp escapes his lips as he turns to Eddie with wide eyes.

“It wasn’t icky!” he exclaims. 

“Alright!” Eddie holds his hand up for a high five, which Everett returns enthusiastically. You toss the empty cup into the sink before plopping down on the other side of Everett from Eddie. 

It doesn’t take long for the medicine to kick in and Everett’s eyes begin to droop. His head rests against your arm and you gently coax him into your lap so it will be easier to take him to bed without too much jostling. His clogged nose means when Everett finally does fall into a deep sleep, he’s snoring like a bear cub in hibernation. Slowly, you tighten your grip on him and rise to your feet.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper to Eddie, who nods in return. Everett stays in his medication-induced slumber as you lay him down in his bed and tuck his powder blue blanket around him. You place his new Spider-Man action figure on top of his nightstand and gently lay his otter stuffie by his side. Some hair has flopped down into his eyes, so you brush it back and press a soft kiss to his forehead.

“Goodnight, baby.”

When you walk back out into the living room, Eddie is leaning back on the couch, fidgeting with the rings on his fingers. 

You plop down in your previous spot, unsure of what to say now that Everett is no longer there as a buffer. What you really want to do is lean over and press your lips against his. You’re aware that’s not the best idea though, so you bite at your lower lip instead. 

“I missed you,” Eddie finally says. 

“I missed you, too.” Your voice is quiet, but you’re glad the ice has been broken. 

Eddie turns towards you and leans in. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t clear about what I was trying to say at the party.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you offer him an apologetic smile. “I didn’t really let you finish.”

He scoots in a little closer to you and looks at you with those doe eyes that make your heart feel like it’s bouncing on a trampoline. When his tongue comes out to lick over his lips, all you can remember is the way it felt up against yours in the back of his van at Lover’s Lake. Was that really only a week and a half ago? It simultaneously feels like it was ages away and just happened yesterday. 

“Steve put all this in your head, didn’t he?” you ask.

“Well…yeah,” Eddie admits, looking sheepish. You admire the fact that he doesn’t want to come out and throw the father of your child under the bus, even if that's where the blame belongs. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not true. I’d hate myself forever if I ever disappointed that little dude.”

The thoughtfulness Eddie continues to show towards your son only has you falling farther down the rabbit hole for him. It eases a worry you didn’t even know you had. Steve’s words to him may have some validity, but it was not his place to say any of these things to Eddie. Steve was definitely taking Everett to his next dentist appointment after pulling this. 

“Steve has never been one for keeping quiet,” you tell Eddie. “And I get that he’s concerned about his son, but Everett is my son, too. I always intended to move slowly because of him.”

Eddie considers this, but you can see in his tense posture that he’s not completely mollified. 

“You didn’t know I was going to be at the graduation though,” Eddie says, his shoulders slumping with a sigh. “I should’ve told you.”

“No, it was a nice surprise,” you assure him. He still doesn’t look convinced, so you reach out and take one of his hands in your own. The warmth envelops your cold fingers, and the rough calluses feel steadying and calming against your softer skin. “Everett remembering you and warming up to you instantly was nice, too. You and I just hadn’t discussed how we were going to be in front of him yet. I think that talk would’ve saved us all this confusion.”

“I swear, I wasn’t trying to end anything. I just—if Everett got attached and then for some reason this didn’t work out, I’d hate to hurt him. And I never want to cross a line. If I ever do, please call me out on it. With you or Everett.”

Your top teeth begin to worry at your bottom lip as you nod your head. An odd sensation fills your body; like you’re lightheaded and weighed down all at the same time. It isn’t because of Eddie’s words—or is it? The confirmation that he wasn’t breaking up with you—the live, in person, seeing-the-words-coming-directly-from-his-mouth confirmation, you realize, has relieved you. Relief. Relief that the pain you thought you were being forced to endure was unsubstantiated. Relief that Eddie seeing you be a mom didn’t drive him away—though that is something you still want to talk to him about. Relief and pure joy at the fact that Eddie wants to be with you. It’s dizzying, honestly. But there’s still the matter that all of this confusion was put upon you both in the first place. 

“That’s why we have this talk,” you assure him, voice strong yet hushed. “Be boring adults and figure out the boundaries so we can go back to making out like teenagers.”

Eddie chuckles. “I like the sound of that.”

Taking a deep breath, you give his hand a squeeze. “I know Everett doesn’t know what dating is. His whole life he’s known there’s Daddy and Nancy, and there’s Mommy. Because he’s so young, I don’t think he’ll have a problem seeing you gradually become a part of his life. But I do think it should be gradual.”

“That’s smart,” Eddie says with a nod of his head. “None of us should be moving too fast.”

“He clearly likes you,” you say, giving a small chuckle. “I think for now though, maybe it’s better if he sees you in group settings. Like, when he sees his aunts and uncles. Every time the kids get together, they ask if Everett can make an appearance. He can get to know you as one of the gang.” 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Eddie says. “I want you to always tell me what you’re comfortable with. You’re his mom first.”

“I’m your girl too though, right?” The way you jut out your bottom lip and give him an over-the-top pout has Eddie laughing and leaning in to press a kiss to your temple.

“Baby, nothing would make me happier than that.”

“Just…one thing.” The way your body tenses and you look away from him makes Eddie nervous. There’s this niggling thing in the back of your mind and you know your brain will never let you rest until you talk about it. “Tell me honestly. Me being a mom doesn’t bother you? At all?”

“Sweetheart, no.” A frown settles onto Eddie’s face and his eyes are filled with steel sincerity. “I adore you. Every part I’ve seen of you so far, it’s only made me crazier for you. Including the mom side. I see how strong and resilient you are all while being the most compassionate and attentive mother to that wonderful little boy. You’re a damn superhero in my opinion.”

This gets a smile out of you, and that’s all it takes to wipe Eddie’s downtrodden expression away. He leans in and presses his lips against your forehead. 

“Like Spider-Man?” you ask. It makes Eddie chuckle against your skin.

“Even better than Spider-Man, baby.”

“Don’t say that to Everett.”

“Mm, I’m pretty sure he knows his mom is way better.” 

“Ah, see that’s a boundary,” you say, poking your finger into his chest. “You can’t lie to me.”

Eddie playfully rolls his eyes before leaning in and nuzzling his nose into the ticklish spot he’s discovered is on the side of your neck. It causes you to break out in giggles and throw your hand over your mouth so they don’t wake your sleeping son. 

“Not a lie,” Eddie mumbles. 

“Fine, fine,” you say. 

He pulls away from your neck and Eddie sits back up straight, looking at you, his eyes shining with admiration and fondness. You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to how he looks at you. You hope you never do.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” you ask.

“Do I get to hold you?”

“Of course.” A smile comes to your lips, and you give a gentle tug on Eddie’s hand. “But get comfortable first. You’ve got to be warm in your leather jacket and boots.”

“Mm,” Eddie hums as he pushes himself off of the couch with a cheeky smile. “Coulda just said you wanted me to undress.”

“I knew you were going to say that,” you admit with a soft giggle. Warmth comes to your cheeks just at his suggestive joke; what would happen when you two finally do start going further?

Eddie takes his boots off and rests them next to your shoes by the front door and hangs his jacket on a peg attached to your hall closet. When he comes back over to the couch, he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead before plopping down next to you–closer than before. Not close enough for your liking, though. You scoot closer to him, and he takes the hint to wrap his arm around your shoulders as you snuggle up to his side. 

“Hi,” you say, tilting your head up to look at him.

“Hi,” Eddie answers. His eyes scan your face. You can tell he’s admiring you and it brings a mixture of flattery and self-consciousness at the same time. When his eyes find your lips, they stay there the longest before he finally looks back up into your eyes. “Been wanting to kiss you since I last did it,” he murmurs in a soft voice.

“So do it.”

The words barely leave your mouth before his lips attach to yours. Eddie’s hand comes up to cup the side of your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheekbone. The kiss is full of longing and reassurance, both of you wanting the other so badly and just as fiercely wanting to show each other that you’re not going anywhere. When you part, Eddie nuzzles his nose against yours.

“So, uh, movie?” he asks. 

“Right.” You stand up and pick Ghostbusters out of your stack near the television and eject the tape you’ve been watching with Everett all day to pop this one in. Eddie’s arms are back around you the moment you sit down. As much as you love this movie, there’s something you’d rather be doing. 

“One last boundary?”

“Mm?”

“You gotta kiss me whenever Ev isn’t around. Gotta make up for all the times we can’t, ya know?”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me twice.”