Too Late, or Just in Time?
It was late afternoon when Evan âBuckâ Buckley finally saw the email that shattered him. His heart stopped for a moment as he read the subject line: âResignation: Isabel Nashâ. Buck had known something was off the past few weeks, a distance between them that hadnât been there before. But to see it in black and whiteâthat Isabel was leaving the 118âhit him like a punch to the gut.
He read the email twice, but the words didnât change. Isabel was resigning. She was leaving LA. She was leaving them.
Buckâs mind raced. Why hadnât she told him? Why hadnât she come to him? Sheâd always confided in him before. Was it because of him? Did his feelings for her, which had grown over the past seven years, make things too complicated? He couldnât breathe. The reality of it was sinking in, and for the first time in years, Buck felt completely out of control.
âHey, man. You okay?â Eddieâs voice brought Buck back to the present. He hadnât even realized Eddie was standing beside him, looking at the resignation email over his shoulder.
Buck shook his head, running a hand through his hair, his chest tightening. âIsabelâs leaving,â he muttered, almost to himself. âSheâs leaving the 118. Sheâs leaving everything.â
Eddieâs brow furrowed in confusion. âWhat do you mean, leaving everything?â
Buckâs voice cracked. âSheâs resigning. Moving away. To another state. I donât even know where, Eddie. IâI didnât even know she was thinking about it.â His hands gripped the edge of the desk, as if holding on to something solid in the midst of his growing panic.
Eddieâs expression softened, but there was no time to waste. âBuck, go after her.â
Buck didnât need any more convincing. He knew exactly where Isabel would go. It wasnât just a gut feeling; it was years of knowing her, knowing her habits, her routines. He grabbed his jacket and ran out of the firehouse without another word, ignoring the worried glances of the others as he passed.
The cool evening air hit him as he made his way to her apartment. His heart pounded in his chest, the weight of unspoken words heavy on his mind. When he reached her building, he almost expected her to be there, standing in the doorway, ready to explain. But there was nothing. No sign of her.
He knocked, his hands trembling. A neighbor passed by and shook their head, not even recognizing Isabel. The apartment was empty. Buckâs stomach twisted with a familiar sense of dread. Had she already gone? Had she left without saying goodbye? Without giving him a chance?
He stood there for a moment, helpless, his mind running in circles. Then, without thinking, he turned on his heel and made his way to the small cafĂ© near the station. It was the same cafĂ© they had been going to for years. The place where theyâd shared countless coffees before heading to work. The place where, often, no words were necessary. The place that felt like home.
Buck pushed open the door, the bell above the entrance chiming as he stepped inside. The café was almost empty, save for a few people scattered around. His eyes scanned the room, desperation creeping into his chest as he searched for her.
Isabel sat in the corner booth, hunched over a mug of coffee, her hands wrapped around it as if it was the only thing keeping her grounded. Her shoulders were slumped, her gaze fixed on the table in front of her. She hadnât seen him yet.
Buckâs heart raced as he made his way toward her. The words he had been choking on for years seemed to hang in the air, waiting to be spoken. As he approached, she looked up, her eyes widening in surprise.
âBuck,â she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, but she didnât move.
He stood there for a moment, just looking at her. There was a bittersweet ache in his chest. This could be the last time I see her. The thought alone was almost enough to make him turn around and leave.
But he couldnât. Not now. Not when everything heâd been feeling for so long was suddenly overwhelming him in a way he couldnât ignore anymore.
âIsabel, donât go,â he said, his voice raw and pleading. âPlease.â
She looked away, the tightness in her jaw betraying the conflict she was feeling. âI donât belong here anymore, Buck. I thought⊠I thought maybe leaving would be easier, you know? A fresh start. A chance to⊠figure things out.â
Buckâs heart sank. She was leaving because she thought she didnât belong, because she thought LA, the 118, and maybe even him didnât need her anymore.
âI donât want you to go,â he said, sitting down across from her, his hands gripping the edge of the table. âI donât think I can handle you leaving, Isabel. IâIââ He stopped, unable to continue, the weight of seven years of unspoken feelings crashing over him. âI love you. Iâve loved you for years.â
Her eyes widened, her lips parted as if she was about to say something, but Buck pressed on, his voice shaking.
âI didnât say it before. I shouldâve, but I didnât. I was too afraid. Too afraid of ruining everything. But I canât stand here and let you walk away from me without telling you the truth. Isabel, I love you. I have for so long, and I didnât even know how to say it until now.â
She stared at him, her expression unreadable, the weight of his words hanging in the air between them. She was silent for a long moment before finally speaking.
âBuck⊠Iââ Her voice faltered, and she took a deep breath. âI didnât know. I thought⊠I thought you didnât feel the same. That maybe⊠maybe you just saw me as a friend. And I didnât want to make things complicated, you know? Especially when I was already trying to figure everything out. But leavingâleaving is hard. I donât know if itâs the right choice.â
âIsabel,â Buck said softly, reaching out to touch her hand. âYou donât have to leave. Not because of me, not because of anyone. You deserve to make a choice for yourself, but donât leave because you think itâs the only option. If itâs because you think youâre alone, youâre not. Iâm here. I always will be.â
Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked down at their intertwined hands, her voice barely above a whisper. âWhat if Iâm making the biggest mistake of my life, Buck?â
âThen letâs figure it out together,â Buck said, squeezing her hand. âYou donât have to make this decision alone. Not anymore. Not when Iâve spent all these years hoping youâd see me the way I see you.â
Isabel looked up at him then, and for the first time in years, Buck saw something in her eyes he had been waiting forâa flicker of hope, a spark of possibility. It was enough. It was everything.
âYouâre not too late, Buck,â Isabel whispered, her lips curving into a small, uncertain smile.
Buckâs heart leaped in his chest, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of certainty. He didnât know what the future would hold for them, but for the first time, he was willing to face itâtogether.
And as the cafĂ©âs soft lights flickered around them, Buck knew that sometimes, the most important thing wasnât saying it perfectly, but simply saying it at all.
