Page 16 of Just a Footnote

“You’re such an asshole,” Aiden says but he’s laughing. Archer always knows what to say.

Archer slings an arm around his shoulder to lead him inside. The house smells like cinnamon. The air is warm inside, but the house itselffeelswarm. Like a happy family lives there. Light gray walls, dark wood floors, and comfortable but tasteful furniture. Bookshelves line the living room that they walk through to get to the grandiose kitchen. A large kitchen island sits in the center, large enough for the entire hockey team to gather around, and Coach Simon stands at the oven wearing an apron. Liam looks so much like him, tall, dark hair, tanned skin, and unsettling green eyes. It’s like looking at an aged-up version of Liam.

“Aiden Clark,” Coach nods at him in greeting.

Aiden flicks him a shy wave. “Hey Coach.”

“I’m just Simon to you.”

Aiden blinks a few times. “Okay, Simon.”

“That sounds weird as hell.” Liam wrinkles his nose in disgust.

Miles tries to steal a green bean off the stove, but Coach slaps his hand.

“Get out of my kitchen while I finish Christmas dinner. Liam, show them the game room.”

“We’veseenthe game room,” Miles points out.

“Aiden hasn’t.” Coach shoos them out of the kitchen with both hands waving in the air. “Go, get out of here.”

The game room ends up being in the basement of the house. It looks almost the same to the rest of the house; dark wood floors, gray walls, with dark leather couches in the center. A pool table sits at one end, an air hockey table, along with a few arcade games against the wall. Jerseys hang on the wall from the years Simon spent playing professional hockey.

Aiden zeroes in on a photo of a little Liam on the ice with hisfather after a win. It’s endearing, sweet even, and some emotion he cannot name unfurls in his stomach. Aiden wonders what it was like to grow up in a home like this. To grow up loved. To grow up safe. As if reading his thoughts, Archer cuffs him on the back of the head with a stern look.

“Okay, we should all take turns playing Aiden at air hockey.”

Aiden glares at Miles who just grins boyishly back at him.

“YouknowI’m good at air hockey.”

“Yes but Liam didn’t know that. Thank you for announcing it.”

Liam tosses the air hockey puck onto the table. He leans over, flips a switch, and the table starts to glow. “Let’s see how good you are.”

“Challenge accepted.”

Aiden steps up to the table. Liam accepts defeat gracefully in the first round but his competitive nature comes in the second and third. His eyes take on the quality that they do on the ice. Aiden watches Liam instead of the puck, but he still continues to win.

“What the hell? How are you so good at this?”

“He used to hustle after school in middle school,” Archer explains, standing back up with the pool stick between his fingers. “He had this entire schtick. Pretend to not be good at it, get the seniors at the arcade to think it was an easy win, then he’d swindle them out of like fifty bucks. Good times.”

“You swindled seniors when you were in middle school by beating them at air hockey?” Liam asks incredulously. His eyes narrow in suspicion that Archer might be lying.

“All the money went to Archer’s sweets addiction.”

Archer lifts one eyebrow because they both know that’s a lie. Aiden used the money to buy them food when their mom forgot to go grocery shopping. Liam gives up playing him, everyone else knows better than to even try, so Aiden sits on one of thecouches and watches them play pool. It’s nice. Some of the edges of his hysteria from earlier have melted away. He’s tired. But not tired enough to ruin the day.

The dinner is nice too. Simon serves them ham, mashed potatoes, vegetables, stuffing, and there are three kinds of pie. Aiden watches on as his brother, Miles and Liam gorge themselves on the food. He eats much less mostly because he doesn’t exercise nearly as much as they do or even as much as he used to in high school when he ran track. It’s been months since he ran a few miles. The amount of calories the three of them have to eat daily just to keep their muscle mass for the season is probably close to what Aiden eats in an entire week.

“So…” Simon starts, pauses, glances around the table at the three hockey players. “Next year you’ll all be NHL stars.”

“Yeah, I know.” Miles ducks his head sheepishly which is new for him.

“Liam’s going to go first in this year's draft,” Coach Simon proudly proclaims.

“Dad,” Liam breathes out, exasperated.

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