Page 55 of Just a Footnote

“You sound empty,” Skye observes. She’s not wrong, but Aiden won’t admit it. He is empty and it’s his own fault.

“I’m just tired,” Aiden lies, knowing that Skye probably won’t believe it.

“You can tell me anything.”

Aiden sighs into the phone. “I know that.”

“You should take up running again,” Skye says, trying to be helpful. “I bet running through Central Park is fun.”

“Yeah, maybe. Hey, update me on Ollie’s hot hockey teammate shenanigans.”

Aiden spends the rest of the phone call asking all the questions he knows will get Skye talking about her new life, her new job, and about Ollie. Anything, but himself.

He thinks about Liam when he drinks a crisp amber beer because Liam prefers them to standard beers for some stupid reason. He thinks about Liam when he walks listlessly around one of the many museums New York City has to offer. He thinks about Liam when he starts running because he downloads allthose Percy Jackson books, listening to them as he runs. Infuriatingly, Liam was right and Aidendoeslove Nico.

He thinks about Liam when there’s an itch under his skin and the only way to satisfy it is to imagine Liam over him, begging to fuck Aiden, with pupils blown wide and a satisfied smile on his plush lips.

He isalwaysthinking about Liam even when he doesn’twantto be thinking about him. It’s a curse. A plague on his heart.

The thoughts come to a halting, painful stop when he returns home one day in late October to a gossip rag tossed on the counter with Liam in a bubble on the corner.

Liam Walsh: love affair with gorgeous puck bunny? All details inside!

Aiden pushes the magazine a little with his finger, frowning as his heart races at a rapid rate inside his suddenly too small ribcage. A picture of Liam with his arm around a brunette woman’s waist while they skate on the ice stares up at him. Aiden squints, looks closer, and sees that soft smile on Liam’s face that Aiden used to imagine was just for him. Well, that settles that.

“Saw it in the check out line when I picked up dinner,” Archer tells him, coming around the kitchen island to lean against it. There’s that look on Archer’s face like he knows something but is waiting for Aiden to cop to it. Aiden never will. He knows how to take some things to his grave.

“Who cares?” Aiden pushes the magazine further away from him. He moves around the kitchen, grabbing a glass along with the half full bottle of whiskey. Slowly, he pours himself a glass but doesn’t drink from it.

“Some people,” Archer teases, not knowing Aiden is on the verge of a panic attack.

Aiden snorts. “Everyone just wants to fuck Liam.”

“Everyone?” Archer repeats, eyebrows raised, eyes glowing with mischief.

“Stupid people,” Aiden rushes to clarify.

“Ah.” Archer pushes off the counter to grab the glass that Aiden had poured for him. “Miles is coming to visit this weekend.”

“Great,” Aiden says sarcastically. “Do I need to vacate the apartment?”

Archer aims a dispassionate look his way before taking a slow sip of his whiskey. It’s top shelf so it doesn’t linger on the tongue or burn too bad going down. At least it doesn’t when Aiden takes his own sip of it. The alcohol doesn’t scratch the itch under his skin, but it takes the edge off his aching heart. He thinks about Liam fucking into someone that isn’t him, calling someone else endearments, he thinks about Liam loving someone. All the blood in his veins threatens to boil over until he bursts.

Their relationship might be good but Aiden would rather talk about anything else with Archer besides his emotions. Especially about how his heart feels like there’s a vice grip on it at the idea of Liam Walsh kissing someone that isn’t him. Archer doesn’t even know about them. He’s not going to bring Archer into the secret fold just so he can rage about the stupidity of it.

The magazine is blessedly gone from the kitchen counter by the next morning. Aiden doesn’t think anything of it really.

Archer has late afternoon practice that he can’t get out of so Aiden offers to pick Miles up from the airport that Friday. With classes over for the day, he doesn't really have anything else to do. Sometimes in his head he thinks of Miles as an extension of Archer. An almost-brother. Not that he’d ever admit that aloud to either of them.

“Hey, asshole.” Miles inelegantly folds himself into the passenger seat of Archer’s Range Rover.

“Hello, dipshit,” Aiden shoots back.

Miles purses his lips in feigned annoyance. They ride in comfortable silence for a while as they drive back into the city from JFK. Traffic isn’t too bad considering the hour of the day. Finally, Miles breaks the silence.

“How’s Archer been?” Miles asks, staring deliberately out the window.

“He’s okay.”

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