Chapter Text
Chapter 1
“Not gonna lie…” The man across from him is in a suit, but it’s just slightly askew, or maybe Eddie’s projecting because there’s a very distinct smell coming from his coffee mug, and, well, it’s not tea. “When I posted the ad, I wasn’t imagining someone would be bringing another child into the mix.”
Eddie wrenches his hands together in his lap. “Yeah…”
“Your resume’s solid… five years of teaching would make you qualified. But you said your son was six? He’s quite a bit younger than my youngest. He’s ten. May’s twelve. Could make things complicated.”
“Yeah,” Eddie breathes.
This was a stupid idea. He’s never felt more out of place sitting across from someone. The office is huge—normally, an interview like this would be at the house where the job was, but not this one. This is taking place on the twelfth story of a downtown building, over one hundred miles from the actual place.
“Hm.”
The man’s looking at Eddie’s resume again, which he’s been doing for an uncomfortable amount of time, leaving Eddie with an uncomfortable amount of silence.
“I, uh, I know it’s unorthodox, but Chris is mature for his age, and I think he’d do great with them. He’s an amazing kid. And it… looks like you’ve got the space.”
The man frowns up at him over the paper. He’s not an unattractive guy, but there’s a dulling glaze in his eyes from whatever’s in his tea. “I guess I’m just wondering what makes someone like you… young, with a kid—a life?—want to upend everything and move to a remote house in the countryside. Your kid’s got to be in school, doesn’t he? Why throw all that away? You piss off the PTA, Mr. Diaz? What are you running from? What’s the catch?”
Eddie’s jaw clenches, and he feels the familiar creep of ice in his veins. He’s at a job interview. He can’t afford to be mean, but still, “You know, that is the question, isn’t it, Mr. Grant? You said the kids were ten and twelve, right? Seems like you could probably afford a great school, but you’re looking for a live-in teacher for them at a house that’s hours away from here, where I assume you work regularly?”
Michael’s jaw slackens, and the light comes back into his eyes for a second. “It’s… complicated.”
“I’m sure, but this listing seems pretty idyllic. Beautiful house. Great pay. Full room and board, and yet, the listing’s almost six months old. Could mean you’re really picky, but given your reservations, that would beg the question, or really, two questions – why are you interviewing me? And, circling back, what is the catch, Mr. Grant?”
The man leans back in his chair, eyes pulsing through the glaze of the whiskey, and Eddie prides himself on never being caught off guard, but what Mr. Grant says next does exactly that, “Call me Michael.”
“Michael,” Eddie says, a little easily.
Michael, abandoning all pretenses, digs into the cabinet beneath his desk and pulls out the half-drained fifth of whiskey, then two shot glasses, and he pours them with a breath that seems to steal more than it gives. “The house isn’t mine. My wife inherited it, then she became my ex-wife, so I left, and up until eight months ago, she lived there with her new husband.” He pours a shot of whiskey into both glasses and slides one towards Eddie. “Died in a car wreck on their way back from a couple’s getaway. Left the house, and the kids, to me.”
The thing is, Eddie knew this. He recognizes it, knows it like a first language—sleeps with it like a lover. The listing, the kids, everything—it was always going to be grief. He knew that coming in.
Maybe that’s why he’s here.
Maybe he thought it’d make him feel a little less alone.
“I’m sorry…” Eddie hedges but takes the glass and stares into the slow ripple of the amber liquid.
“They’re my kids,” Michael clarifies as he knocks back his shot and takes another swig out of his mug. “But I’ve been away, Athena and Bobby were… well, finding out you’re gay almost a decade into a marriage complicates things.”
Eddie tenses. It’s better that this guy is focused on his own issues, but this, in particular, feels too big. Too close. He laughs; it’s brittle and all wrong. “Oh, wow, yeah, I… uh, I’m sure.”
“Never liked Bly, if I’m honest.” If Michael notices his awkwardness, he doesn’t acknowledge it. “It wasn’t hard to find someone the first time. Had her up until a few months ago, but there was…” Michael’s fingers tighten on his glass. “She seemed smart, funny. She was charming. But, damn, if I’m not a bad judge of character. That woman was a disease.”
The way he says the name, all venom and barb, Eddie knows better than to pry, but still he asks, “She… left?”
Michael’s eyes flick up, then away. “Yeah, you could say that. She left, but before she did… she spread enough nastiness about Bly to make sure I’m stuck with it, and no one wants anything to do with it. I’m surprised you haven’t heard the rumors.” His mouth twitches as he takes another drink. “I’m glad she’s gone.”
“Rumors?”
“Yeah,” Michael says, but his eyes are glazed again. “It’s big, and old, so it doesn’t take much to make a story stick.”
Eddie tries to digest it—the idea of rumors and grieving children. A sprawling, lonely manor, and two young kids, with no parents, a father who’s too afraid to come home, and a nanny who abandoned them. They deserve something. Better than Eddie, probably, but Chris—Chris would love having a couple live-in friends, and Eddie’s never met a person alive who didn’t love his son.
Micheal catches his expression. “I know what you’re thinking…” He chuckles. “They’re your kids, Michael, go be their dad, but… I guess I’m out of practice, or maybe I just don’t know how to face them after this. Not yet.”
It’s not fair to them, but then, it isn’t really fair to anyone. He takes his own shot and sets it on the desk. “No, I get it,” he says, and he hates that he means it.
Michael frowns into his drink. “You know, after I found out… I had to call, and May—my daughter—answered the phone. She sounded so… normal, so bright, and all I could think was that I was about to take something from her that she’d never get back, to give her something that she’ll never be able to put down.”
Eddie closes his eyes. He tries not to, because he doesn’t want this—doesn’t want the flood of light going out, of light never coming back, of a child missing a parent. “You could help her,” he says, half pleading.
“No,” Michael whispers. “I couldn’t.”
Silence cascades between them, and Eddie wrestles with the thickness in his throat. Tries not to choke on it.
Michael takes another drink. “So how about you?”
“What?” Eddie says, and suddenly Michael’s eyes are bright again, like something’s ripped out the glaze.
He smiles. “I told you my catch… how about yours? Why do you want this job?”
Eddie fingers the lip of his glass and sucks in a breath that doesn’t come fast or deep enough. “I, uh… just tired, you know? Of trying and not being able to save everyone. I can’t… I, uh, I need to…”
All you ever do is run.
“…start over.”
“You know,” Michael says, then pours him one more shot. “I know there’s more to it than that, but if you want the job, it’s yours.”
“Really?” Eddie almost chokes.
“Yeah, you remind me of me…” Eddie’s mouth pinches, and Michael can’t quite stop his laugh. “Kindred spirit, maybe?”
Eddie doesn’t know how he feels about being a kindred spirit with an alcoholic father who is avoiding his children, but there’s a hollowness in his chest that he sees reflected in Michael’s eyes.
“Thanks, I think.”
~
“Whoa!” Chris presses his face to the window of the car. “Dad, is that it? It’s like a castle! Are we really gonna live there?”
The place is gorgeous, which Eddie knew. He saw the pictures; he knew about the red brick and the steeply pitched roof. He knew it was sprawling and massive and almost medieval. He knew about the six thousand different chimneys scattered along the gables. He even knew Chris was going to love it, which is why he’s letting him see it for the first time on the drive up.
But on approach, it’s different. For one, the creeping vines on the left of the house look like a disease, creeping up and over, like a growing infection no one’s noticing.
Eddie takes a breath and forces a smile. “Looks that way, bud.”
The man driving the car (the place was too remote to drive to himself, so Eddie and his son are in the back of a 1960’s Rolls-Royce driven by a man they met two hours ago, a red flag that Eddie is valiantly ignoring) catches his eyes and his tone.
“Just be glad you’re not the one cleaning it,” the man, who goes by Chimney—Eddie’s wondering which of the ones on Bly’s roof he’s named after—asks.
Eddie’s already-fallen smile quirks up a little again, a little less halfhearted. “No, just chasing kids around it.”
“Ah,” Chimney swats at the air, “May and Harry are good kids. Harry usually comes back if you wait him out, and May, well… she doesn’t do much running lately.”
“Maybe we can fix that,” Eddie wrangles some semblance of confidence into his tone. “You live here too?”
Chimney scoffs. “Oh, hell no. I live in town. I’m just Michael’s personal assistant or chauffeur or whatever he needs me to be. I help around the house a little—whatever Maddie needs me for, and I’ll try to grab flowers or whatever for Buck when he isn’t being an asshole.”
“Maddie and Buck?” Eddie asks.
“Yeah, they’re siblings,” Chimney says, eyes on Eddie in the rearview mirror. “Maddie’s the housekeeper, or I think she prefers groundskeeper, and Buck’s the gardener. Bobby was kinda… I guess he adopted them, more or less. Their parents sucked, and Bobby had a thing for…” Chimney’s eyes go dark, and sad, and stone, before he shakes it off. “They meant a lot to him, especially Buck.”
This is feeling more dysfunctional by the second, but they’re already pulling into the long concrete driveway, and Chris is bouncing with excitement, and whatever Eddie’s set into motion—there’s no turning back now.
He steps out and glances up the full height of Bly Manor. The ground beneath his feet churns with something, like static electricity begging for release. But it doesn’t come, all that comes is the quiet, dense pulse of wanting out, and Eddie recognizes it intimately and instantly.
All you ever do is run.
A brown-haired woman steps into view, but her eyes aren’t on Eddie—they’re on Chimney before she wraps him in a tight hug. “Look who finally decided to drop by.”
“I know, I know,” Chimney says. “Michael’s been…” He tapers off with a quick glance towards Eddie. “How are things here? Kids doing okay?”
“They’re okay,” the woman answers, and looks at Eddie, then Christopher. “Hopefully better now that the calvary’s arrived. I’m Maddie, the groundskeeper. We do not say the h-word, and who do we have here?”
“Dad, what’s the h-word?” Chris whispers loud enough for everyone to hear.
Eddie smiles, and Maddie kneels to swipe at his nose. “That’s a secret.”
“Aw, but I wanna know…”
“Well, I gotta know your name first.”
“I’m Chris!” Christopher says. “I really like your house.”
Maddie smiles, and it’s so warm and easy, Eddie almost forgets how apprehensive he is. “Nice to meet you, and how about I give you another secret instead?” She leans in to whisper, but it’s about as effective as Chris’s. “This isn’t really my house. I just keep it clean.”
“It’s so big! How do you clean it?” Chris says.
“I have my ways,” Maddie says, then stands to look at Eddie as she extends her hand. “You must be Eddie.”
Eddie takes it. “That’s me.”
Her eyes catch the light when she smiles. “Well, we’re glad you’re here. The kids were supposed to come with me, but I think they’re playing by the pond,” Maddie says. “Why don’t we go introduce you?”
The walk is nice. The air’s cool, and everything’s green like the manor’s tucked into its very own forest. It’s almost enough to remind Eddie’s body that he did, in fact, choose to come here, and this isn’t a hostage situation.
The pond is surrounded on all sides by foliage and coated in a soft, dreary mist spread like fingertips atop it. It creeps through the brightness, the warmth, the same way the vines crept across the manner; the world feels colder the closer they get to it.
The kids come into view finally. Harry is caught up in some imaginary game, one that reminds him a lot of Chris, but May is quiet, her back to them at the lip of the lake, head buried in a book. She glances up, towards the lake, and lifts her hand—like she’s waving.
Eddie looks across to find who she’s waving at, and there’s a woman, hand in the air, in a half-formed wave. For a moment, Eddie’s mouth goes bone-dry; his knees threaten to buckle before he blinks and it’s not her. It’s someone else, a woman with bright red hair tied back. She looks like they’ve caught her unaware, pants messy like she’s been wading in the lake.
“May!” Maddie calls. “Harry!”
Both of them turn, and Harry darts over, while May makes every movement seem like a chore, but eventually, she makes her way over, and Maddie says, “This is Eddie, your new teacher, and his son Christopher.”
“Hey,” Harry says, then smiles at Chris’s shirt. “I’m Harry! I like your shirt. Is that Donatello from Ninja Turtles? I love playing Ninja Turtles! You wanna be Donatello?”
Eddie bites his lip from smiling too hard.
“Yeah!” Chris bounces on his crutches. “Yes, he’s my favorite!”
“I like Raphael!”
And they’re gone, just like that, before Eddie can even introduce himself. That tends to happen a lot with Chris, though. He steals the show. Instead, Eddie turns his attention towards May, who’s squinting at him like he’s a potentially hazardous foreign body.
“Hey.” He starts small.
“Hey,” she says.
Better than nothing.
Eddie tries to keep his voice light. Harry seems like he might be easier, but it’s been a long time since Eddie had to sell himself to a kid like May. “How’s the book?”
May pulls her book up between them—Eddie doesn’t quite catch the title. “I don’t know because people keep interrupting me.”
“Who was that lady you were waving at earlier?”
“Huh?” May’s eyes widen, and she turns towards the lake. “Lady?”
“Well, yeah, I thought…” Eddie goes to see if she’s still there, but of course she isn’t.
May frowns.
Fear pricks the back of Eddie’s scalp again before he takes a steadying breath. It wasn’t her. He looked, and the woman he saw wasn’t her. It was someone else. He knows her. Knows her hair is dark brown. Just like he knows the twist and tear of his heartbeat when he sees her.
That wasn’t her.
“Oh,” Harry says, who is suddenly back with Christopher in tow. “That’s the lady in the lake. She’s a ghost.”
Eddie stiffens but keeps his face neutral when he looks at Harry. “A ghost?”
“Yeah,” Harry says. “She took our old nanny.”
Taylor, Eddie figures.
Maybe a ghost story is better than being abandoned.
Or maybe that’s all a ghost story ever is.
“She didn’t,” May huffs. “Stop saying that! Taylor left, and stop calling it a lake, it’s a pond.”
Harry frowns at May, then Eddie, all singular curiosity. “Are you gonna leave too? Buck’s probably gonna want you to leave. He was so mad we were getting a new nanny. I bet he’s gonna hate you.”
Wonderful.
Maddie puts a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Alright, Harry. That’s enough.” Her eyes are so brown and soft that he almost believes her when she says, “The nanny stuff has them riled up. I assume Michael told you?”
“Yeah,” Eddie said. “More or less.”
Chimney and Maddie exchange a glance that has all Eddie’s apprehension crashing back into him, full force. “We’re just trying to put it behind us at this point, but well… the kids liked her.”
“May liked her,” Harry huffs. “She was mean to me.”
“You’re just mad because you had a crush and she thought you were a baby.”
Harry shoves her shoulder. “Shut up!”
Eddie drags his teeth off his lower lip as he realizes it’s starting to burn. “Oh, yeah, Chimney mentioned him. Your brother?”
Maddie scrunches her nose like this is something she doesn’t like to talk about, but Chimney pats her almost comically on the shoulder. “My brother, yeah. He’s…” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “He’s had a hard time since…” Her eyes slide to May and Harry who are still arguing. “It’ll be fine.”
“He’s moody,” Chimney says. “Mostly he just stalks around talking about how the gardens have blight, and you know, I thought he was being dramatic, but apparently that is an actual thing that happens to gardens. Blight. Sounds like the result of a cursed artifact, not when plants get too humid or whatever.”
“You watch too many movies.” Maddie nudges him. “Anyway, Buck’s harmless, but don’t take anything personally. It’s all just hard right now.”
Lots of complications around here, Eddie thinks through a sigh, wonderful.
“Is he scared of the lady in the lake?” Christopher asks, and Eddie feels himself go cold, like Chris has been saying this name all his life, like it’s a name woven into the seams of him, of both of them.
“No,” Maddie says, maybe too fast. “He’s not scared. He’s just got a lot on his mind.” Her eyes shift meaningfully to Eddie, and she lowers her voice to say, “Seriously, Taylor got them going on this whole thing. It’s just… it’s a story. Do not let Chris get it in his head. You’ll never get any sleep.”
Eddie can’t stop his reply before it’s out. “I don’t sleep much anyway.”
Maddie frowns, then tilts her chin towards the house. “Come on, let’s give you a proper tour.”
They head back towards the manor. May and Harry, playful and childlike, and Chris slides between them, grinning like he hasn’t in months. For a minute, everything feels a little less foreboding. The place looms, though, like something out of a storybook—the scary thing that needs conquering.
Unfortunately, Eddie isn’t sure he knows how to conquer anything.
The foyer is wall to wall wood-paneling with massive symmetrical stairs leading up to a balustraded gallery, and a hallway that yawns open and disappears into shadow. Sconces are mounted on the wall, casting a dull orange over the swirls in the deep red carpet.
It’s gorgeous, but it’s not particularly surprising that the ghost stories caught on.
“It really is a castle!” Chris says. “This is so cool. Where’s my room?”
“C’mon, I’ll show you,” Maddie says, “there’s a connecting suite for you and your dad.” She guides them up to the second floor, down a series of hallways with portraits of regal-looking people that give the sense of tracking every movement that passes them. It pricks at the back of Eddie’s scalp when he accidentally meets the lambent gray eyes of the centermost portrait.
They enter another long hallway, and Harry lags behind, frowning. Eddie hears May hiss his name.
“Our parents used to live down there,” Harry says softly. “You can’t go in there anymore because they died. Our old nanny used to go in there a lot before she got in trouble.”
Maddie stiffens, and Eddie ignores the wince on Chimney’s face. “Right, it’s—there’s just a lot of old stuff back there that we haven’t sorted out, since…” Maddie drops her eyes.
The hallway is dark, and something, maybe a bust, is covered in a white sheet near the corner, before it branches off into what Eddie can only assumes are very nice rooms. The wallpaper is deep purple, decorated with white petals that fall just short of gaudy. They cling to light in the perpetual shadow death’s cast over the hall, and Eddie wonders if Harry would’ve stopped at all if they hadn’t been there.
“I get it,” Christopher says. “You still have to respect people’s things, even when they die, right, Dad?”
Chris, of course, is familiar with all this. More than any kid ever should be. None of the ghosts or death seem to rattle him, and Eddie almost wishes it did, almost wishes he wouldn’t so casually half-reveal their sordid past quite this early. “Right.”
“Let’s, um… let’s keep going?” Maddie ushers them all forward, down another long hallway until she opens the door to a room painted navy blue, with a full-size bed pressed against the far-left wall. It’s adorned with paintings of landscapes and plants, and soft, afternoon sun spills in through windows split into three by thick, cream-colored mullions.
“What do you think?” Maddie asks.
“Wow,” Eddie says.
It’s nothing like any room Eddie’s ever stayed in, particularly the faded heirloom rug and sheer, white curtains. Then again, he hasn’t given any thought to actually decorating a room since he was eight years old and his mother said a Star Wars poster was for babies and purple was for girls.
“I liked Taylor’s room better,” May says. “This one’s ugly.”
“If you like Taylor so much you should’ve married her,” Harry says in the voice of someone who says this very often.
“No, that’s what you wanted, you loser,” May snaps.
Chimney chuckles and waves them off, then opens a wooden door to the right of Eddie’s bed and says to Chris, “Yours is through here, big guy.”
Christopher squeaks and hurries through the door. This next room is a little smaller, but more modern, a little bit at least. There’s a square black toy box beneath another window, and a twin bed in the corner with train-themed duvet and pillows.
“Amazing!” Chris says. “I love trains!”
“Your dad told us,” Maddie says. “So we got new sheets for you…” Maddie looks, a little sympathetically to Eddie. “I don’t know if you mentioned anything for you, but Michael didn’t…”
“I didn’t,” Eddie says. “He asked, but interior decorating isn’t exactly my thing.”
“Maybe that rug will teach you to have an opinion or two of your own,” Chimney says with a quick smile.
Eddie chuckles. “It’s fine.”
“We did replace the lock, though,” Maddie says. “Figured the least we could do was give you some privacy, and most the locks in this place gave out ages ago. Buck always says he’s going to fix them and doesn’t.”
“He makes them worse,” Chimney mutters.
“Oh.” Eddie hadn’t considered a lock, but he’s suddenly very glad he’s got one. “Uh, thanks.”
Christopher opens his closet, then runs his hand over the dresser before he gives in and opens the toybox. “There’s so much stuff in here.”
“That’s mine,” Harry says, then drops his shoulders. “Or, well, it was, but I told them you could borrow it, since I’m too old for that stuff.” But the way he’s eyeing the airplane Chris is pretend-flying around the room tells a different story.
“That was nice of you,” Eddie says. “Chris?”
“Thank you!” Christopher says. “We can play with them together!”
This gets Harry out of his anti-sharing slump.
They eventually coax Chris and Harry away from the toys, and Maddie shows them through a couple other rooms. There’s an open guest room with soft green walls, and Maddie gestures to it absently. “We save this room for Lucy when she stops by, which hasn’t been much these days… she’s our estate manager.”
They’re almost back to the stairs when it’s May’s turn to stop outside short, but she’s parked in front of a closed door. “This is Taylor’s room.”
“Not anymore,” Harry huffs.
“It’s still hers,” May says. “For when she comes back, and no one’s allowed in there until she does.”
“She might not come back now,” Harry says. “Since they hired a new nanny.”
May glares at Eddie, like this is somehow his fault.
Maddie, once again faced with a terribly awkward situation, claps her hands together. “Well, truthfully, it’s locked and we haven’t been able to find the key since she left, so… it really doesn’t matter.” She lets her gaze linger on the door, like she’s steeling herself, before she shakes it off. “Anyways, I’ve got a couple things to discuss with Mr. Han, but May, why don’t you show Eddie and Chris the kitchen?” She gestures towards the hallway beneath the gallery. “The pastries should be done. I bet you guys are starving.”
“Pastries!” The kids thunder down the stairs and through the kitchen.
Maddie laughs. “It’s right through there. Shouldn’t be hard to find.”
“Thanks,” Eddie says again, then gives Chimney a quick nod.
He makes his way down to the hallway, which is quieter without the kids, quiet and not quite as dark as he expected when he first walked in. The lights are placed evenly, and it opens into a kitchen with actual windows near the back. The natural light feels like a breath of fresh air.
There’s a woman arranging pastries on the table. She’s blonde, with bright eyes, and she smiles at him when he walks in. “Oh, you must be the new guy.”
“Lucy,” May says. “You’re back.”
“Yeah, guess I missed you guys,” Lucy answers, then extends a hand to Eddie. “I’m Lucy Donato. I work for Michael as his estate manager, but I try to help with whatever I can.”
“She was supposed to sell the house,” Harry supplies.
Lucy’s jaw ticks, but she raises her hands at Eddie’s surprise. “It’s… more complicated than that, and things have more or less stalled on that front. Mostly I just make sure nothing falls apart.”
Chris is already shoving what looks like a Danish in his mouth. “These are delicious! Dad, you should try one.”
Eddie glances over the pastries, and he probably ought to show some restraint but he’s hungry and he does like baked goods, so he takes one. “Chris, please say thank you.”
“Thank you,” Chris says, or Eddie assumes that’s what he says, since mostly it’s just crumbs and mumbling.
Eddie takes a bite of the pastry and lifts his eyebrows. They are shockingly good, even though he’s not sure what he expected. “Wow.”
“I know,” Lucy says while the kids lose themselves in their own conversation, and she narrows her eyes, head tilted, like she’s sizing him up. “So, what do you think about all this?”
“All what?”
Lucy’s squint deepens before she does a little circle with her chin, to indicate the manor, maybe even the pastries. “This.”
She doesn’t have the calming presence Maddie had, but she’s playful with this easy smile that makes him forget his apprehension as well as Maddie did. “It’s, uh… it’s nice, and absolutely massive. I feel like I’m gonna get lost.”
Lucy laughs. “Trust me, chasing the kids will get you acclimated pretty quick, but yeah, you probably will get lost. Just keep making lefts, eventually, you’ll get back to civilization, hopefully.”
“And if I don’t?” Eddie asks.
“Not an option.” Lucy scrunches her nose. “These kids really can’t take another trauma. Just start screaming, Buck will probably turn up eventually.”
“Not you?” Eddie asks.
Lucy purses her lips. “I’m not here as often.”
“No thanks,” a voice filters through the wall, muted but sharp. There’s something distinctly familiar about it, though Eddie knows he’s never heard it before. Just like he knows it’s the infamous Buck everyone’s been warning about. The thing is, he’s never heard Buck before, so the certainty feels unearned, almost jarring, especially when the voice continues, “I have shit to do, and he shouldn’t be here at all. Especially with a damn kid. Because that’s exactly what this place needs.”
Eddie drops his knuckles onto the table, grinds until pain shoots up his arm. The last thing he needs is someone telling him he’s not raising Christopher right—he got that enough back home; that’s why he left. Partly.
“That’s my cue to go,” Lucy says. “You should stay and meet him, but as a warning, he will be rude. Try not to think too hard about it. It’s when he starts being nice you ought to worry…”
She isn’t fast enough, though. Buck half-storms into the kitchen, frowns between Eddie, Lucy, and the kids, then shoulders past Eddie to open a cabinet and pull out a bag of coffee grounds.
For a few seconds, Eddie wonders if they’re all going to sit in silence while Buck tosses out the coffee that’s already brewed to make his own, but he just tucks the bag under his arm and heads towards the outer door.
“Buck,” Lucy chides.
Buck almost makes it to the door before he stops and turns, leveling Lucy with one of the nastiest smiles Eddie’s ever seen. “Oh, hey, can you let Mary Poppins over there know the spoonful of sugar goes in your mouth?” He turns it on Eddie, and there’s a flicker, a shadow in the smile, before it comes back even meaner. “Not on it?”
Eddie blinks, stunned into confusion by the glacial malice in Buck’s eyes before he realizes what he means. Once he does, it sparks something in him that he hasn’t felt, not for a while, maybe not ever. He thumbs at the dried sugar at the corner of his mouth, and then, because Buck’s having a little too much fun with this attempt at a humiliation ritual, he licks his thumb and keeps his smile level and light. “Thanks for the heads up, and it’s Eddie, by the way.”
Buck’s expression twists into this black coil of indignation and something unfamiliar, like Eddie’s reared back and slapped him, before he turns and slams the door on his way out.