The breaking point came on a call.

You and Eddie had just pulled a man from a flipped truck, adrenaline still racing. You gave Eddie a breathless grin as you checked his gear. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he said, clapping your shoulder. “Nice pull back there.”

Buck watched from a few feet away, jaw tight, fists clenched, practically vibrating with tension.

And then he snapped.

“You two done eye-fucking or should I come back later?” he bit out.

You turned, slowly, narrowing your eyes. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, already storming past.

But you weren’t letting that slide. You followed him back to the engine, grabbing his arm and spinning him around. “What is your problem, Buck?”

“You,” he said without thinking. “You’re the problem.”

“Oh, great. Glad we cleared that up,” you said, laughing bitterly. “Is it because I exist, or because I’m not afraid to call you out when you act like a dick?”

His mouth opened — then closed. For once, he had no clever line.

“I don’t like you,” he said finally. “You think you’re—”

“—what? A threat? To your fragile ego?”

“No,” he growled. “To me.”

You froze. “What does that even mean?”

Buck ran a hand down his face, voice low, furious. “It means I can’t stand you because I don’t want to like you. And every time I see you with Eddie, I want to lose my goddamn mind, and I’m not supposed to feel that way, because I’m with Taylor, and this—” He gestured between you. “—this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

The air felt like it had been sucked out of the engine bay.

You stared at him, heart racing. “You hate me because you like me?”

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t have to.

Because in the next second, he kissed you.

Hard. Desperate. Like he was furious with himself for wanting it.

And maybe he was.

But you kissed him back anyway.