Page 75 of Just a Footnote

“For a week,” Liam proudly announces. “We can’t be together and last Christmas was kind of awful so…I thought maybe you could pretend I’m with you.”

“Liam…”

“Just say thank you,” Liam pleads.

“Thank you,” Aiden says softly. He sets the phone down to pull the oversized hoodie over his head. If he closes his eyes he can almost pretend Liam is there, warm skin under his hand, lips a breath from kissing his own. “How’s the concussion?”

Liam scoffs. “I don’t actually have one. They’re just being careful because they have to be. I guess it’s nice to have a few weeks off though.”

Aiden hums. “You could have a mild one.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

They’re quiet for a long time over the phone, not sure what to say, if there is anything to say, just listening to one another breathe. Aiden thinks maybe Liam fell asleep until that familiar rustling echoes in the phone again.

“Liam?” Aiden asks.

“I’m just anxious about this season,” Liam admits, voice soft and hesitant. “I can’t carry this team by myself, and Seattle isn’t as good as I thought they’d be. They’re sloppy. I like them and have a few friends, but I don’t feel like I fit in among them.”

Aiden sighs loudly. “Liam, you could lead a team of hamsters to the Stanley Cup.”

“Hamsters?” Liam questions in disbelief, but Aiden can hear the smile in his voice.

“You heard me,” Aiden tells him, fighting the smile from creeping onto his face.

“Hmmm, I did,” Liam laughs then lets out a put-upon sigh. “Tell me about New York City in the winter. Don’t leave out any details. I want to picture it so I can pretend I’m there with you.”

Aiden takes a steadying breath, feeling his heart swell ten sizes, and then spends the next few hours describing the city as well as he can. He tells Liam about the museums, the Christmas themed bars, the Christmas tree lots on the corners, and aboutwandering around Rockefeller Plaza by himself feeling like a total tourist. Soon the soft sound of Liam’s snores fills the room and Aiden lays there listening for a long time. It’s all too easy to pretend that Liam is in the bed next to them with their hands almost touching in their sleep.

With no practice scheduled,Archer and Aiden impulsively decide to go to the movies the day after Christmas. Aiden might not care about superhero movies, but Archer does, so he decides to easily agree to see the new Spider-Man movie in theaters. The promise of a large tub of popcorn is enough to get him excited.

Softly falling snow greets them when they step through the doors of their building.

“I heard this joke the other day in the locker room. Wanna hear it?” Archer asks with an excited grin.

“Sure.”

“What does Santa suffer from when he gets stuck in a chimney?”

Aiden stares at Archer as he fights laughter, obviously pleased with the joke. “I have no idea, Archer.”

“Claustrophobia,” Archer says through giggles.

Aiden laughs to make Archer feel better. The sound of Aiden’s name makes him freeze.

“Look at you both,” an all too familiar voice calls out from behind them.

Aiden freezes on the sidewalk, hand instinctively shooting out to grab onto Archer. They both slowly spin around on the sidewalk, Aiden’s hand still desperately clutching Archer’s arm, to find their mother standing hidden beside the door of their building. She’s wearing jeans and a team sweatshirt for the oilers, if Aiden didn’t know better he’d think she was a lovingmom coming to visit her sons. The doorman frantically looks between them. Aiden desperately tries to beg him with his eyes to call the police.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Archer bites out, taking a step to block Aiden from her view.

“I’m clean! For two whole months! I just wanted to see you.” Her voice is more brittle than Aiden remembers. Probably from smoking. It’s been over a decade since they shared the same air. Although she sounds older, her voice more cracked, the sound of her voice still sends a nauseating chill down Aiden’s spine.

“Too fucking late, lady.” Archer puts his hands up to stop her approach. “Get the fuck out of here. Aiden has a restraining order against you, unless you forgot.”

Aiden stares down at the ground, at his shitty converse that he refuses to replace. The sounds of the city echo around him. Blood rushes to his ears to replace the honking and noise of people. His mouth goes dry. A panic attack looms on the horizon. He curls his fingers tighter against Archer’s arm to ground himself.

“Mr. Clark, the police are on the way,” their doorman tells Archer.

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