The Star (Charleston Condors Book 1)

RILEY WAS HALFWAY THROUGH his workout, trying and mostly failing not to check out Landry’s biceps as they flexed through his set of reps when Coach Kelley ducked his head into the weight room and said, “Hey, you got a minute, Riley?”

It had been two days since the announcement the Condors had traded for Micah Rose, but Riley had yet to meet him.

He had a feeling that was about to change.

“Yeah, sure, let me finish this up,” Riley said. “Give me twenty?”

“Good. Then you can meet us in the big conference room.”

Riley nodded and went back to his reps.

When he was just about finished, Landry came over. “You think he’s here?”

“Yeah, probably.” He lowered his voice. “Beck’s over there trying to bench press the entire weight room, so it seems likely.”

Beck was—straining and red-faced, as Jem spotted him with something that looked a lot like concern.

“Well, I guess you’re gonna get to meet him.”

“I kinda thought I wouldn’t ’til practice, that maybe Deacon would get called in, but I guess they want me.”

“You’re the leader of this team,” Landry reminded him. “Coach knows that.”

Riley knew it, too, but it was a good reminder.

He wiped his face, took a very quick, cold shower, and then headed up to the conference room on the second floor of the building.

When he entered, Mr. G, Coach Kelley, and Coach Rufus—the defensive coordinator—were gathered at one end of the long, burnished wood table, along with a guy with light brown skin, close-cropped dark hair, and a hesitant smile as Riley walked over to where they were sitting.

“Hey,” Riley said, extending a hand, “you must be Micah. I’m Riley Flynn.”

Micah took his hand and shook it. He had a nice, firm grip, one hundred eighty degrees from the apprehension lingering in his gaze.

“Nice to meet you. You’re the quarterback here now?” Micah asked.

“Yeah,” Riley said as he took a seat next to him. “Brought in a couple weeks back when Nelson Perez tore up his knee.”

“Riley is proving to be an excellent pickup,” Mr. G said, speaking up for the first time since Riley had entered the room. “A great player and a leader, on and off the field.”

Something flashed behind Micah’s gaze. More than apprehension now. But…terror?

Riley did a double take.

Then Micah said, haltingly, “I didn’t get off on the right foot in Miami. I made mistakes there that I’ll regret forever. I don’t know what you’ve heard…”

“Nothing,” Coach Kelley said kindly but firmly. “The guys in Miami had nothing but great things to say about you. Which is why I was so surprised to hear you’d requested a trade.”

“Yeah,” Micah said, chuckling self-consciously. “I appreciate they spoke up for me, but I didn’t always do the right thing. Say the right thing. I fucked up plenty…didn’t listen at first. Made some enemies. But—” He took a deep breath. “But I’m not gonna do that here. This is the fresh start I wanted, the one I asked for, and I’m not gonna screw this up.”

“Nobody thinks you will,” Coach Kelley said reassuringly.

“Yeah, I’m not so sure about that,” Micah said bluntly. “What I’m saying is I did all this wrong the last time. That won’t happen again. No matter what you’ve heard.”

“Good.” Mr. G was nodding.

Riley wasn’t sure what to say. He’d known there had to be something because why on earth would he and Beck have fallen out so completely? Course, it could’ve been Beck at fault, but Riley knew whenever a friendship fell apart like that, it was usually way more complicated than one person fucking it up.

“And,” Micah added, looking more terrified and yet more resolute than he had before. He met Riley’s eyes, lifting his chin like he was challenging Riley, or maybe, Riley realized, he was challenging himself. “And I don’t want this fresh start to begin under any kind of misapprehension.” He paused. “I’m gay.”

It was amazing what just saying those two words did to Micah Rose.

He let out a gust of breath, and his shoulders relaxed. It was like Riley was seeing the real Micah Rose for the very first time.

Riley smiled at him. He knew how that felt, the first time you told someone—and Riley would guess, too, that this might be one of the first times Micah had said it at all—and the intense relief you felt after when nobody called you a name or denounced you or even worse, looked at you like you were an alien in a man’s body.

“That isn’t a problem at all,” Mr. G said confidently. “Riley here came out after college, before the draft, and we have several other queer players on the squad. And as for me…well, I intend to run this team as open-minded as I can. Coach Kelley agrees. That’s one of the reasons I hired him.”

Landry had speculated the other day that Mr. G might be queer himself, even though he was notoriously private, but Riley hadn’t gotten that particular vibe from him, not until now.

“You definitely aren’t alone, and while we appreciate you telling us,” Coach Kelley said, nodding, “I don’t care one bit who you see off the field. Just how you play on the field.”

Riley watched as Micah’s face lost even more tension. Like he’d been holding it back this whole time.

“I’m sure you’ll want to catch up with your old teammate, too,” Mr. G said, smiling. Like he had no idea that Beck didn’t want to see him. And, Riley realized, he probably didn’t. Maybe nobody knew that they weren’t friends anymore. He certainly hadn’t.

Micah, who’d just been relaxing by significant degrees, tensed up.

“Beck?” he asked cautiously like he didn’t know if he was even allowed to say his name.

“Yeah,” Riley said. This was not good. Beck had said his personal feelings wouldn’t intrude on the field, but one of the reasons he and Micah had been so dynamite together, so unbelievably good that the Condors were so eager to reunite them, was that they were always on the same page.

What would they be like if they weren’t?

Riley wasn’t sure, and that was bad news, especially considering what the Condors probably had been forced to trade for Micah. Mr. G was gambling that this would work and work well.

What if it didn’t?

What if everyone was wrong about Beck and Micah?

“We’ve got your locker all set up downstairs and equipment assigned to you,” Coach Kelley said. “But whatever you need, let me or Coach Rufus know.” The defensive coordinator nodded. He looked eager, probably to put the defensive disaster of the last game to rest and to see what his two famous backfield players were going to play like now that they were back together again.

“Or me,” Riley offered with a smile. He didn’t want to interfere with whatever had passed between Micah and Beck, but Landry was right; he was the leader of this team.

It was his responsibility. It was Deacon’s responsibility, too, as captain of the defense.

But Riley had every intention of doing his part to help them mend fences. And if that failed, to be not only a friend, but a friendly ear. Micah might need it. Beck might, too.

“Yes, absolutely,” Coach Kelley said. “Or Deacon Harris, who’s the defensive captain. He’s been around here a long time, and he knows the ropes well. We haven’t always taken care of rookies here, but we’re turning over a lot of new leaves this year.”

“You and me both,” Micah said wryly. He didn’t have to say he meant it—it was written on every part of his face that he wanted to make the most of this. That he wanted to put whatever had happened in Miami behind him. Start fresh.

“Riley, why don’t you take Micah down to the cafeteria, get him some lunch before practice?” Mr. G asked.

“Sure,” Riley said, standing. He’d been about to offer anyway.

Micah trailed after him out of the conference room but didn’t speak until they were in the hallway, waiting for the elevator to go down to the cafeteria.

“Lots of people think the Piranhas are gonna win a Super Bowl,” Riley offered as the elevator dinged open.

“Yeah,” Micah said. But he didn’t sound regretful or sad at all that he might miss the chance at a ring. This was not a guy who’d been traded away against his wishes. This was someone who meant exactly what he said: he’d been looking to start over. “The coaching staff’s great, the players are good, they work hard.”

“I’ve always heard Asa Dawson is…different,” Riley said cautiously as he pressed the button for the main level.

“He’s great. He’s…” Micah wet his lips. “Coach Dawson and Coach Scott, they helped me a lot. Made me a better player, despite my attempts to tell them to fuck off. Made me a better man, even.”

“Yeah?” Riley grinned. “That’s great. But you still wanted to leave.”

Micah sighed. Shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “You ever mess up so bad you can’t forget it, can’t leave it behind, no matter how many times you apologize, no matter how many times you try to make it right?”

“No,” Riley said wryly. “Actually, I have the opposite problem. I’d never fuck up because I’d be too worried. Too cautious. Not even when I need to step out of line. Everyone thinks I should tell my brother to fuck off. They think I should’ve told him that years ago, but I just…can’t.”

“Your brother’s Aidan Flynn?”

Riley nodded.

Micah smiled. “I’ve heard some shit about him. Maybe you should.”

“Maybe I should,” Riley said with a chuckle. “So how about this, we make a pact with each other. You messed up, but you made it right. Then you came here and wanted more than anything to start this new experience with honesty and transparency, and so far, you’ve done it. So let yourself off the hook, okay? And I’ll try to work up the nerve to tell my brother to fuck off. Or at least mind his own business.”

“Work up the nerve or actually do it?” Micah asked, raising an eyebrow.

Riley couldn’t help it. He laughed. “You’re tough.”

But Micah just shrugged as the elevator dinged open again. “Here’s the thing,” he said as they walked down the hallway towards the cafeteria. “You can have all the best intentions in the world, but it doesn’t count for shit if you don’t act on them.”

“True.”

Micah turned to him. “Don’t have regrets. I’m here to tell you they really fucking suck.”

Riley nearly asked if those regrets included Beck, but before he could, Deacon appeared in front of them.

“Hey, man, it’s great to meet up again and great to have you here. The famous Micah Rose.” They shook hands.

Micah shrugged. “Not that famous.”

“Hey, famous enough we’d have loved to have you last week to cover Chase Riley,” Deacon said dryly. “Beck said you can.”

“Beck did, huh?”

“He sure did. Was really boasting about your skills,” Riley said, which wasn’t exactly true—he hadn’t exactly boasted about it, but Beck was quiet enough, rarely offering his opinion on anything, so Riley just had to stretch reality a little bit.

“Yeah?” Micah looked pleased.

Really pleased.

See, Riley could do this leadership thing. Fuck off, Aidan, he thought to himself.

Of course it didn’t actually count unless he said it to his brother, but Riley figured he was already practicing for this Sunday, when it was inevitable he’d say something irredeemably shitty either about Riley’s play or his relationship with Landry.

“Yep, he sure did,” Deacon confirmed. Riley figured they were both on the same page. Deacon had been around a long time. He knew how to read the players on his defense, and Beck hadn’t been exactly subtle about his chilly feelings.

“Cool.”

“We’ve got a table over here,” Deacon said. “If you want to go through the food line with Riley.”

“Sure thing,” Micah said.

He was quiet as they both picked up several different plates of food, but when they were heading towards the table Deacon had pointed out, currently occupied by Landry, Jem, and Carter, Micah asked out of the blue, “He really said that about me? And not anything else? Not anything…”

Riley knew what he was fishing for, but what could he say? He’s not happy you’re here. But that doesn’t mean you can’t fix it.

Doesn’t mean we can’t fix it together.

“Yeah, he did. I think that’s the only time you came up, actually…” Riley trailed off. That wasn’t one hundred percent accurate again, but he felt weird stretching the truth even more than he already had.

“Ah.” Micah didn’t have to say anything else; there was a wealth of meaning in that single word.

He set his food down on the table and greeted everyone, shaking hands all around.

Riley poked at his chicken salad, popping a grape tomato in his mouth as Carter waxed rhapsodic about how he was going to have a real challenge now at practice. Landry was nodding along with him, and Riley was free to just watch as Micah got folded enthusiastically into their friend group. He had a feeling that had been Deacon’s intention all along, and he was happy to do his part to help out.

But Riley also knew the exact moment Beck appeared in the cafeteria.

Next to him, Micah stiffened, his face freezing into a completely neutral expression.

Deer in the headlights had nothing on the way Micah was currently staring at Beck as he also hesitated in the doorway.

Then Beck walked towards them like it was inevitable and there was no point in putting it off.

He was right about that. If they couldn’t even say hello to each other over lunch, how were they going to play together?

“Rose,” Beck said, his voice even as a thousand different emotions flashed in his eyes.

This morning, when he and Landry had been talking about Beck’s reaction to the trade news, he’d mentioned Beck had said they were complicated. From both of their reactions to meeting again, that seemed to be the most accurate description.

“West,” Micah said, tipping his head. “Good to see you again. But even better to play with you again.”

Something Riley couldn’t identify flashed across Beck’s face, and then it was gone, tucked away like it’d never existed at all. “Yeah,” he said. “That was always the dream, wasn’t it?”

But there was an edge even to those innocent words. Like it had been the dream, but then something had corrupted it.

Riley didn’t know what it was. It probably wasn’t any of his business. But if it impacted the team, then it had to be his business.

“Yeah,” Micah echoed. “Yeah, it was.”

Then Beck turned away. “Gonna grab some lunch, then head to a meeting,” he said shortly.

Micah opened his mouth and then snapped it closed again.

Carter, gazing between the two guys—one sitting at their table and the other practically running away—said with a forced cheer that made it obvious he hadn’t been oblivious to the undercurrents, “Must be nice to be reunited.”

“Sure,” Micah said and returned to his lunch like it was the most interesting plate of food he’d ever experienced.

Riley and Landry exchanged looks across the table, but neither of them even tried to protest when Carter started in on a lengthy description of the date he’d been on over the weekend.

Later, when Carter finally left and Deacon and Jem took Micah on a quick tour of the facilities and locker room, Landry looked over at Riley as he finished up his salad. “Well, that was awkward,” he said.

“About as awkward as I expected,” Riley agreed.

“I guess Beck wasn’t exaggerating when he said things were complicated.”

“Guess not.” Riley considered telling Landry what Micah had said in the conference room about being gay. It had been on his mind all during lunch, not because he had any judgment for the guy, but because now he knew that both Micah and Beck were into guys, it was not an insane possibility that whatever had happened between them was very personal.

Maybe this wasn’t a broken friendship but a breakup.

“You sure Micah isn’t into guys?” Landry asked as they headed towards the locker room to get ready for practice. “I know a couple of nights ago Beck said it was not like that, but the way they looked at each other today…”

Riley had seen it, too. Had felt it. The longing in the air.

“Well, uh, about that…” He still felt awkward sharing. Micah hadn’t told him explicitly that he could. But he’d also said he was starting his time with the Condors open and free. “He might be.”

“He might be?” Landry’s eyebrows shot up.

“Okay, he is,” Riley said with a grumble. “He said so when I met him this morning.”

“They’re exes then,” Landry said. He sounded relieved now that he’d finally figured it out.

But Riley wasn’t so sure. They didn’t seem like exes. Instead, they felt like…Riley didn’t know exactly. But they were absolutely something.

Something he was really fucking praying wouldn’t intrude onto the field.

Riley shrugged. “Maybe,” he hedged. “Who knows what actually happened between them. I’m more concerned about what happens between them when they get on the field today.”

“You want The Wall back.”

“That’s why Mr. G brought him here,” Riley said. “And we need it. Maybe not every opponent we have this season is going to have a receiver like Chase Riley, but we gotta be better. I can’t…we can’t let them score like that, at will, no matter how good you are, or how good Carter is, or how many yards Darius gets for us on the ground.”

“And no matter how good you are,” Landry reminded him, reaching out and squeezing his hand.

“Yeah, yeah, that, too,” Riley acknowledged. “We need a good defense if we’re gonna be the team I think we can be, and Micah and Beck? They’re an integral part of that. That’s why Mr. G spent the draft picks to get him. He wouldn’t have come cheap.”

“No,” Landry agreed. “It’s gonna be fine, though. I feel like it has to be. They’re both pros. They’ll make it work.”

Halfway through practice, Riley was more than a little relieved that Landry had been at least half right.

Whatever you wanted to say about what had or hadn’t happened between them, nobody could deny Micah and Beck were both trying.

Coach Kelley announced again that for today’s practice, the starting offense would be running plays against the starting defense.

“Yes!” Carter had announced immediately, clearly very pleased that he’d get the chance to test his skills against the reunited Wall.

So far, they’d been mostly cooperative, and yes, they had given Carter—and Landry, too—a run for their money.

Riley could see, even as it exasperated him, even as the offense stalled again and again in the face of their tight coverage downfield, flashes of why they’d been called The Wall back in college.

But only flashes.

“Goddamnit.” Carter spiked his gloves on the ground after yet another play when Micah had covered him tight and close, his timing impeccable as he turned at precisely the right time to leap up and bat the ball away before Carter could even dream about catching it.

“You’re good at that,” Riley said to Micah as they took a break, forcing his tone to stay even and friendly.

“Yeah,” Beck said. “Your timing was good before, but it wasn’t always that good.”

Micah shot the safety a look. It was like Riley wasn’t even there, which…he got that. Wished he didn’t, but he did.

“Howard gave me a bunch of pointers,” Micah said, referring to Sebastian Howard, who before he’d grown older and slower, had been one of the top corners in the NFL. Maybe one of the top corners to ever play the game. Now he was a safety for the Piranhas, and it made perfect sense that he’d taught Micah everything he knew.

“Surprised you were willing to listen,” Beck said.

Micah shot him a look but didn’t say anything back.

Like he didn’t believe, Riley realized, he had a right to defend himself against the accusation.

Maybe he didn’t feel like he did.

But before the next play, Riley stepped across the line and said, in a low voice, “Remember our deal?”

Micah stared at him incredulously.

“You learn how to forgive yourself,” Riley said pointedly, “and I’m going to tell my brother to fuck off.”

“Can I be there when you do it?” Micah joked weakly. “That would be something to see.”

“Maybe,” Riley said with a shrug. “We are gonna be in Toronto next week. Gonna be facing him.”

“Gonna be beating him,” Landry chimed in. “He’s not even gonna know what hit him.”

“I hope so,” Riley said with a grin, returning to where the offense was gathered together. “Come on, let’s get this first down.”

The play called for Landry to run his crossing route, which was quickly becoming something he was not only really good at but kind of a trademark of his time with the Condors.

It took absolutely perfect timing, which Micah could have easily broken up, but instead, this time, Micah ended up biting on Landry’s fake, and as Riley dropped back to pass the ball, he let it sail long, Landry’s big strides eating up the grass on the practice field.

Easy touchdown.

“What the fuck was that?” Beck demanded to know.

Micah threw his hands up, but he didn’t say anything.

“You can’t let him behind you,” Beck continued. Riley had never heard him be so insistent. So impassioned.

Usually, he kept his head down at practice other than a few necessary exchanges.

But he wasn’t doing that now.

He was practically getting into Micah’s face.

“Hey, it’s cool. Landry’s tough to cover in the best of circumstances,” Deacon said, wandering over. “You’ll get there. It’s what practice is for.” He patted Micah on the back and shot Beck a pointed look.

“I’m not the one who’s worried about it,” Micah said quietly but with quiet, determined confidence.

He wasn’t smug or cocky. He just acted like he could get the job done.

Landry had said in college that he’d run his mouth, boasting that he could cover anyone, at any time, even calling out certain receivers they were going to be playing against on social media. But it seemed that whatever had happened last year with the Piranhas, whatever he’d gained from the coaches and players there, he’d learned to keep his mouth shut.

Like he’d finally realized that what mattered more than anything else was what you did on the field and in a game, not what you said before it.

Still, as practice drew to a close, Riley couldn’t deny he was worried. He stopped by Deacon as he stood by the sideline on his way back into the locker room.

“Should we do anything?” he asked, wondering.

Deacon didn’t ask what he was referring to; he already knew. Of course he knew. Riley had rarely played with anyone, offense or defense, who was as wily and smart as Deacon Harris.

“They’ll sort each other out eventually,” Deacon said, not seeming as confident as he sounded.

“Really?” Riley couldn’t help his skepticism.

Maybe Deacon hadn’t heard all the potshots Beck had taken at Micah. The shit he hadn’t even bothered to return, like it glanced right off, but you didn’t have to be particularly intelligent to see he’d taken some of it to heart.

“Yeah, and if they won’t, I don’t know, I’ll lock them in a closet or something.” Deacon grinned.

“That’s not a solution,” Riley argued.

“Well, what’s your suggestion, QB1?” Deacon wondered.

That was the problem, wasn’t it? Riley didn’t have one of those. And unfortunately, the one person he’d always been able to go to about these sorts of team leadership questions was the one person he really wasn’t looking forward to talking to again.

However, he also felt a deep and desperate need to go to Toronto this Sunday and beat his brother at his own game.

Blow him right out of the water so effectively, so completely, that Aidan never doubted him again.

Riley knew Aidan and knew there was only one way to truly convince his brother the right path for him was this one. It was to kick his ass.

Then tell him to fuck off for good measure.

Then maybe they could eventually settle into a semi-normal brotherly relationship.

None of that was a possibility if the defense played like crap again. If they couldn’t cover receivers downfield.

“Not sure,” Riley admitted.

“Well, when you have an idea…” Deacon trailed off.

“You’ll be the first one to know,” Riley promised.

He considered the problem through his shower and getting dressed.

Charlie said he was going to grab them a few sandwiches from the cafeteria before they went over the tape from practice.

“You heading home?” Riley asked Landry as he loitered by Riley’s locker.

“Yeah, was thinking about it,” Landry said. “Have some laundry to catch up. Want me to throw a load of yours in?”

“Aw,” Riley said. He glanced around, saw that almost all the players had left, and he leaned in, dropping his voice to a low murmur. “You’re adorable.”

Landry flushed. “Is that a yes?”

“Sure,” Riley said. “It’s in my hamper.”

“Why do we have two hampers again?” Landry asked, very matter-of-factly, like this was something he’d genuinely wondered about.

“I don’t know, I hadn’t thought about it,” Riley answered, mostly honestly. He had thought a few times that it was weird he’d sleep every night in Landry’s room, and then all his stuff was still down the hall, in the bedroom he barely spent any time in.

“Well, I did, and I think it’s stupid. I have plenty of room. The closet’s huge, and you didn’t come with that much stuff,” Landry said. “You might as well move it into my room.” He paused significantly, flashing Riley a smile he wouldn’t ever forget. “I mean our room.”

Riley took the risk no one was watching and pressed a quick kiss to Landry’s cheek. “I’d love to,” he said honestly.

“Sounds good,” Landry said, still pleasantly flushed. “I’ll see you at home.”

It was the thought that Landry was waiting for him at home that ultimately made Riley’s decision for him.

He could call Aidan because Aidan couldn’t hurt him anymore, not the way his over-solicitous care and worry had always cut him.

Riley had a life, a damn good one now, and he didn’t need Aidan if he chose to be an asshole.

“Hey, stranger,” Aidan said when he answered Riley’s call. “I thought you might’ve dropped in a hole.”

Riley rolled his eyes as he leaned back against the wall in the QB room. Charlie wouldn’t be here with dinner for another five minutes. Plenty of time to ask Aidan about this problem.

“We didn’t have anything to say,” Riley said pointedly.

His brother was quiet for a moment.

“What do you want then?” Aidan asked finally.

Riley wasn’t happy about it either, but if this was what they were reduced to—at least for the time being—then so be it.

He just had to tell himself that their difficulties wouldn’t last forever. Someday, he’d stand up for himself, and Aidan would simply accept the new version of reality.

“You ever have two guys on your team that wouldn’t get along?” Riley asked.

“What are they fighting about?” Aidan asked, not really answering the question.

“Not sure, actually. They won’t talk about it.”

Aidan hummed. “Well, hard to give advice then. Sometimes two guys just don’t see eye-to-eye, and you’ve got to hope that it won’t impact the game you’re playing.”

“Just accept it?” Riley was incredulous. That was an ambivalent attitude completely opposite to his brother’s typical control freak tendencies.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Riley,” Aidan said testily. “A magic wand?”

“What is wrong with you?” Riley retorted. “Yeah, you can be an asshole, but you usually have to work up to the worst of it.”

Aidan was quiet for a very long time. Then finally, he said, in a frustrated voice, “They won’t trade for Mo.”

The Toronto Thunder hadn’t re-signed Aidan’s favorite receiver last season, letting him go to another team for a big payday, and Riley had heard his brother gripe about it for months. Then, he’d abruptly stopped, and when Riley had asked why, he’d said he had a new plan.

Apparently, the new plan was to convince the Thunder to trade for him.

“Then throw to someone else. You’ve been doing that for twenty games now,” Riley reasoned.

“It’s not…you don’t get it.” Aidan broke off. “It’s not that simple.”

“What do you always tell me? Make it simple, Riley?”

“Yeah.”

“So that’s your grand advice then? Tell them to fight it out and hope the blood doesn’t end up on the field?”

“Sometimes,” Aidan said in a hard voice, “shit doesn’t work out, Riley. You’ve got to face that fact. I gotta go.”

Charlie came in the room, and Riley, who actually wanted to keep talking to Aidan to figure out what the fuck was going on with him beyond the normal BS, had to agree that, yes, he had to go, too.

“It’ll be okay, I promise. See you Sunday,” Aidan said, his tone softening. “It’ll be good to see you. And Landry.”

“Yeah,” Riley said. About that. I’m kinda in love with your best friend, and he’s crazy about me, too. Surprise!

But he didn’t say it because the news was going to go over badly enough in person, nevermind over the phone when his brother was already in a tizzy over Mo.

Aidan hung up, and Charlie shot him a look as he unloaded sandwiches and drinks onto the table. “Everything okay?” He asked.

“Oh, the usual Aidan bullshit,” Riley said because he didn’t particularly feel like confessing to his backup that he’d gone running to his brother for leadership advice.

Leadership advice he hadn’t even gotten, by the way.

“You need to—”

Riley laughed and finished the sentence for him. “Tell him to fuck off? Trust me, yeah, I know.”

But he was less tempted to do it now than he had been before. Something in the lost way Aidan had sounded.

Like more than ever, he needed not just a friend, but a brother.