Chapter 29 #2
“Yeah, but the Harbor Master threw them back in the ocean because we caught them without a permit.”
“Were you in trouble?”
“Not as much trouble as when we stole a boat,” Aidan says.
“Oh my god, please tell me you weren’t twelve for that one, too?”
“No, we were sixteen,” Liam says.
“Old enough to know better,” Aidan adds. “That one would have been really bad if it hadn’t been Bob who caught us.”
“That was my dad,” Liam says, and I note the past tense. “He stopped by the marina to drop off some bait for a charter boat leaving the next day and saw us pulling out into the open ocean.”
“You at least knew how to drive a boat, right?” I confirm.
“Yeah, but we were too young for a boating license and if my dad hadn’t hopped into our other boat to come after us, we actually could have gotten in big trouble if we were caught.”
“We were both grounded for a month for that one,” Aidan says. “Luckily, they didn’t find the beer we’d hidden on the boat earlier that day when we hatched the plan.”
“You guys were such idiots,” I say with a laugh.
“Just normal teenage shit,” Liam says, shaking his head.
“Sometimes I wonder how we survived half the stuff we did. God help me when that one is a teenager,” he says, nodding his head toward the ceiling where we can still hear Jack moving around his room even though Liam put him to bed nearly an hour ago.
I glance at Aidan and notice his Adam’s apple bob. I wonder if he’s thinking about Liam being a single parent, and if that brings back memories of his own father’s death when he was a kid.
“Speaking of,” Liam says, when the silence grows heavy because neither Aidan nor I know what to say about the prospect of Liam being a single parent, “I better go check on him. I’m glad you guys stopped by.
It’s been . . . different without you right across the street.
” He and Aidan exchange a look I can’t quite read.
“You guys should come into the city and catch a game,” Aidan says.
“Yeah, maybe if we got a box or something it would be possible,” Liam says.
I know he can’t go anywhere without the media hounding him these days.
He’s been radio silent about his life since his wife passed, and while I respect that he needs his privacy, I also see it through the PR lens of “the less you say, the more people wonder.”
“Anytime,” Aidan says. “You just let me know. You’re welcome to stay at my place too, if you don’t want to trek back down here late at night.”
“A sleepover with Uncle Aidan would be the highlight of Jack’s life, I’m sure,” Liam says with a small smile as he stands to walk us to the door.
As we walk down the stone path that cuts through the front lawn, I don’t miss the way Aidan’s whole body seems less tense. Despite the heaviness of the losses both he and Liam have experienced, he’s at home here—relaxed and comfortable in a way I haven’t seen since our first night in Bermuda.
“You could have told me your best friend was Liam Freaking Walker,” I say when he takes my hand as we cross the street.
He gives me a little squeeze and says, “It was more fun to see how you’d react.”
“Gotta be honest, I was a little starstruck.”
His chuckle rumbles over the sound of crashing waves down at the end of the street. “Most people are.”
“How does the whole world not know you two are childhood best friends?”
“The world doesn’t need to know everything about us.
Liam, in particular, is extremely private,” he says, and it’s funny to think that his best friend is the one professional athlete who might be even more closed off than he is.
Which is why seeing them together in Liam’s home, totally at ease, was such a treat.
“No one expected him to be the star he is today, honestly. Least of all him.”
“Why not?”
“Not an exceptional college quarterback, middling performance at the Combine, fourth-round draft pick, traded after two years of riding the bench in San Francisco, and after three years as the backup here, he only ended up playing because our QB got injured mid-game. But he rose to the occasion, and the rest is history.”
I didn’t know all of the “history,” only that people are saying he might be the greatest quarterback of all time, which is why taking this year off, at his age, has everyone speculating about whether he’ll be as good when he comes back next season.
Aidan sharing this side of him, bringing me to his childhood home, introducing me to his best friend, and trusting me with all of this when I know how private he can be . . . all of it feels significant.
Which is why, as he lets us into the house, turning and boxing me in against the closed front door, I have to remind myself that none of it means anything, even if it feels like it does.
When he dips his head and trails kisses along my jaw, telling me that he’s been thinking about getting me alone for weeks, I have to remind myself that this is the moment where I might start thinking it all means something.
I’m not going to make that mistake this time.
Not even when he scoops me into his arms and walks us up the stairs.
Not even as he gently removes each item of my clothing in his bedroom.
Not even as he lays me down and props himself over me, while his hands roam my body and he tells me I’m perfect.
Not even as our bodies are joined and he’s saying that the best part of being home is having me here with him.
This is just how he does casual. Friends with benefits, and nothing more.