The Star (Charleston Condors Book 1)

LANDRY REMEMBERED WHEN HE’D finally chosen to sign with the Condors and the first thing Aidan had said to him when he’d heard the news was, “Circle the third Sunday of the season on your calendar. It’s on, Banks.”

At the time, he’d just thought it would be cool to finally play against his best friend. But now, shading his eyes against the late Toronto sun as he took the field for the Condors’ warmup, there was so much more riding on this game.

Riley didn’t have to say out loud how much the outcome of this one mattered. Landry knew.

Then, totally separate from the game, was the inevitable discussion they needed to have with Aidan. A discussion that, if Landry knew Aidan at all, wouldn’t start off very well—or at all, probably. He hoped, with time, Aidan would come around to seeing Riley and Landry together as a good thing, but he wasn’t naive enough to believe he’d be happy about it at first.

“You ready for this?” Riley jogged up next to him. He was still in shorts and a tank, hair falling over his forehead, blue eyes bright. He looked young and confident, ready to tackle whatever this day brought.

He didn’t want to say, I’m freaking out about this—not for me, but for you, but it was true.

“You look like you’re about to vomit,” Riley answered for him. Patted him on the shoulder. “And I know it’s not for you. Don’t worry. I’m ready for this.”

It was impossible to pretend any longer. Riley knew him better than that.

“You might be, but maybe I’m not,” Landry said. He shaded his eyes with his hand, and yep, there was Aidan Flynn, in the flesh, jogging over to where they stood.

“Here we go,” Riley said under his breath.

He’s gonna know the moment he sees us together. The shit is about to hit the fan.

But he didn’t because Aidan’s smile was totally normal, not a molecule out of place.

“Riley,” Aidan said, and they briefly hugged before he turned to Landry. “Good to see you, man, as always,” he said to Landry as they embraced.

His greeting and their response were exactly as they should have been.

“See you found a new corner,” Aidan said, taking a step back, hands on his hips. “He gonna be causing problems for me all day?”

“I sure hope so,” Landry said.

Aidan raised an eyebrow. “When did you become so competitive, Banks?”

“Since, forever, you idiot,” Riley retorted. “He’s your best friend. You think he just wants to roll over and play dead in front of you? He doesn’t. Neither of us do.”

For a single moment, Landry held his breath. Had Riley gone too far? Was it too weird? Was the next thing Aidan was going to say, What the fuck is going on between you two?

But he didn’t.

He just laughed. “And there’s the kid I know.” He ruffled Riley’s hair, and underneath his touch, Riley made a face. “Seriously, though, you look tense, Landry. You okay?”

If Riley answered for him again, Aidan would be suspicious.

He was going to have to say something to dispel the tension. Not even the tension between them, the tension inside himself.

“You’re really committed to that nickname,” Landry said mildly. “Maybe you’ll rethink it after today. Actually, I hope you rethink it after today.”

“We’ll see,” Aidan said, which was code for, not in a million years.

Riley looked over at him. Unlike Landry, he apparently wasn’t terrified to even glance over in his direction. You’re telling him after the game. It’s not like he won’t know the whole truth sooner rather than later. “Maybe we need to come up with a good nickname for him. It’s his turn.”

“Oh, I can think of several you could call me. The GOAT, for starters.”

Landry rolled his eyes. “That’s Tom Brady, you asshole.”

“Aidan the Asshole kinda has a nice ring, don’t you think?” Riley mused.

But Aidan just laughed, like it was all one big joke to him.

Maybe it was.

Landry had hoped several things would come out of this meetup. One, that he could relax enough in Aidan’s presence to not tip him off before they could pull him aside after the game and tell him the truth. Two, that Riley’s confidence would only grow. And three, that he could put his mind at ease about some of the weirdness he’d witnessed from his best friend over the last few months.

Riley had told him about the odd conversation they’d had about Mo, and it had only worried Landry more.

Now that Aidan was in front of them, in person and with that casual, dazzling smile deployed like it was a weapon, it was painfully easy for Landry to see that he was off.

Something was up with Aidan, and if Landry tried to ask about it, he’d brush any of his concerns away.

“How about you?” Landry asked anyway because he had a feeling after today, they wouldn’t be talking for a while.

Aidan would eventually come around, but Landry didn’t know how long the eventually would take.

It could be weeks. It could be months. It could be a year.

He just didn’t know, and if he let it go now, he’d worry.

“I’m fine,” Aidan said with a shrug. “Not happy about Mo, but you know, shit happens in the NFL.”

“Yeah, it does,” Landry agreed.

The media crew for the Condors chose that moment to arrive on the scene, and they asked for some photos and video of Aidan and Riley and Landry greeting each other.

They all put their game faces on and redid their greetings.

There hadn’t been many sets of quarterback brothers who’d played each other. In fact, Landry knew of only one pair who’d faced each other: Peyton and Eli Manning.

These photos would show up everywhere in the next week.

Probably everywhere for the rest of time if the Flynn brothers ended up being as impactful as the Mannings had been.

Landry was happy to step aside and watch as history was being made for a second time.

They’d take more pictures after the game, the crew said, and then they finally disappeared, leaving the three of them alone again.

“Well, that was fun,” Aidan said sarcastically.

“Hey, I think it’s pretty damn cool,” Landry retorted. “You’re playing your brother. It’s an amazing accomplishment that you’re both in the NFL and both starting quarterbacks.”

“It’s alright, Landry. I know he didn’t want me playing at all, nevermind playing against him,” Riley said coolly. He was eyeing Aidan with a casual confidence that Landry didn’t think he’d possessed even a few weeks ago. He’d come a long way since arriving in Charleston. As much as Landry could help him continue to grow, he would.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Aidan frowned.

“It means,” Landry said, final realization dawning, “that you’re afraid Riley’s gonna beat you.”

“What? Are you serious?” Aidan said, and he might try to laugh it off, but the fear was there in his eyes. Landry could see it now.

Aidan was used to being number one. Used to being the Flynn everyone looked at and looked up to. He counted on it.

That, Landry knew, might no longer be the case.

Riley had arrived, and he was going to continue to not only deliver but to demolish every single person’s expectations of what he could do.

“Yeah, I’m serious,” Riley said.

“Well, I guess we’ll see then,” Aidan said, trying to laugh it off again. Landry was sure he thought he was convincing, but he’d known Aidan too long and seen through too many of his charades to believe it.

“Guess we will,” Riley said matter-of-factly. “See you out there.”

Aidan just made a face, turned, and walked away.

“He’s afraid of you,” Landry said in total awe and astonishment as soon as he was out of hearing.

“Yeah,” Riley said. “I’ve wondered for awhile if that was the case. I wasn’t sure, but now I am. But I think there’s more going on with him than he wants to say.”

“Well, that Mo thing was ridiculous. He signed with the Raiders. He’s going to play for them now, under that huge contract. Why would the Thunder trade back for him? Why would Aidan even want them to?”

“I mean, part of me gets it,” Riley said seriously as they began stretching out on the sideline. “Of course, I’d rather throw to you than throw to anyone else. But I’m not turning myself inside out to make it happen. A good quarterback can throw to anyone. It doesn’t matter who it is. It doesn’t need to be Mo Jeffries.”

“Really? You’d rather throw to me than anyone else?” Riley hadn’t ever said that out loud before, though the brightness of his smile when Landry caught one of his passes had been pretty good evidence it was true.

“Of course I would,” Riley said with a laugh and a shake of his head. “You’re my boyfriend.”

Then he froze.

So did Landry because he must’ve had the same impossible, improbable thought.

“No way,” Landry said. “No way.”

“I know it seems crazy,” Riley said.

“Crazy is an understatement. Your brother has never been involved with Mo Jeffries. He’d have told me. He’d have told you.”

“Maybe,” Riley said. “Maybe not. Maybe they’re not involved, maybe he just has…I don’t know…feelings.”

“Feelings? For Mo Jeffries?”

“If it’s true, that kinda sucks for him, doesn’t it?” Riley questioned.

Landry sank into another stretch. “It would, but I still don’t buy it. It’s just not possible. Aidan was so against you coming out. He talked about it nonstop for weeks.”

“You think it just lasted weeks? Try months. Try a whole fucking year.” Riley laughed humorlessly. “Aidan’s got weird ideas in his head sometimes. Ways he needs to be. How he has to live. The worst part is I could see this actually being true, and he’s hidden it, maybe even from himself, this whole time.”

“It would explain how strange he’s been.” Not that Landry believed it. He still didn’t. Aidan would have told him. He knew he would have. Landry wasn’t just anyone. He hadn’t just been a teammate or a passing acquaintance. He was Aidan’s fucking best friend. They’d been through everything together.

“It would,” Riley agreed.

“What are you two arguing about over here?” Carter appeared in Landry’s view. “You already have the big PR meetup with Aidan? Is that the problem?”

“Yes, and no,” Landry said.

He wasn’t going to share Riley’s theory with Carter. It would be all over the news in a week. Of course, Carter had been surprisingly close-lipped about their own relationship. But he had some kind of loyalty to him and Riley. Carter had zero loyalty to Aidan Flynn—or Mo Jeffries, for that matter.

And if it was really true, which seemed impossible to believe, but if it was, then this needed to be handled…gently. Carefully. Cautiously.

“Landry thinks the last meetup between two QB brothers was the Carrs, but they never played against each other,” Riley said.

Clearly, he also didn’t feel like sharing his theory with Carter.

“No way. David’s way older than Derek. They didn’t play each other. But the Mannings did, three times.”

“You know who won every time?” Riley asked.

Carter and Landry both shook their heads.

“I know,” Riley continued, “because I paid attention. I knew it would be us out here one day. Didn’t know when or how, just that it seemed inevitable. Peyton, who was older, won every single game he played against Eli. But now? I think it’s time for the big brother win streak to come to an end.”

Carter slapped Riley’s hand in a high-five. “Fuck yeah, it is,” he said.

The game did not start with the offensive explosion every media pundit had predicted.

It was both easy and predictable for them to say it, Landry thought as he stood on the sideline, watching as Aidan dropped back to pass and had to scramble out of Deacon Harris’ way almost immediately. There’d already been so much freaking emphasis on the fact two brothers, both playing quarterback, were facing off against each other.

But instead of the offenses shining in the first half, the defenses had played lights out, keeping the scoring to a minimum.

Even Micah and Beck, who were still giving each other a mutual cold-shoulder, seemed to find a fraction of the groove they’d once occupied, smothering the back half of the field so that Aidan couldn’t make any of his trademark deep passes.

It was currently three to zero, and across the field, Landry could see Aidan pacing back and forth on the Thunder sideline, talking to his offensive line, exhorting every player on his team to work harder, do better, do more.

Riley had been doing the same thing, huddled up with the rest of the offense, but now they were getting ready to head back onto the field after the Thunder punted the ball back to the Condors.

“You ready?” Riley asked, grinning at Landry. He still looked as breathtakingly confident as he had on the first drive. Even though the Toronto defense had been stifling, he’d come back to the bench after each drive with his head held high, determination clear in his gaze as he’d rallied everyone around him to plan for their next chance.

“Never been readier,” Landry said.

Coach Oscar called in a play, and in the huddle, Riley repeated it back, meeting everyone’s eyes once as he clapped to break up the group.

Landry took a breath and lined up, readying himself to run. They’d been using him to block almost exclusively since the game started, but clearly during halftime, the coaching staff decided that while that was sort of working, if they didn’t move the ball down the field, they weren’t going to be able to lengthen their lead.

The ref blew the whistle, and Cole snapped the ball to Riley. Landry wasn’t running his deep running route this time, but crossing over into the soft part of the zone, hopefully just under the eye of the safety. The plan was to just get enough yardage to gain another first down.

Landry pushed off, running around the edge, moving in a slant pattern towards the middle of the field.

He watched as Riley dropped back as he glanced down the field, starting to go through his progressions. He spotted Landry, and their eyes met. He was technically the first choice on the play, but Riley wasn’t going to telegraph his actions and leave himself open to a batted ball or worse, an interception.

Riley turned his head, taking in Carter, who was streaking down the sideline. He was double-covered. Landry could see it. Riley could see it. It was tempting, though, a really tempting throw that would almost certainly end in disaster.

But Riley was too smart of a quarterback to make that throw.

Aidan had taught him better than that.

Landry knew now that Riley’s exceptional decision-making was something he’d gotten from his brother. And now he was going to use everything Aidan had taught him to beat him at his own game.

Without even looking at Landry, Riley threw across his body, letting the ball fly.

Landry grabbed it out of the air and then turned upfield.

He took in the safety moving fast across the field to intercept him, and he took what he believed was a great angle. At the same time, he braced himself for a collision and the inevitable tackle, so he stuck out his arm, legs churning hard as he attempted to push the safety off his course.

A smaller guy wouldn’t have been able to do it. As it was, it took every bit of Landry’s not-inconsiderable strength, but he managed it, the safety glancing off him, falling to the turf, and he kept going.

One of the two corners covering Carter downfield spied him and moved to intercept next.

Ten yards down.

Twenty.

Then thirty.

Landry was breathing hard now

He wouldn’t go down without a fight; he’d already proven that.

But this corner was clever and tangled their legs together, Landry landing with a hard oomph on the turf.

His blood was buzzing as Riley and the rest of the offense caught up to him, Carter holding out his arm as he took it to help leverage himself upright.

“Fuck yes!” Carter yelled, hands pumping like he was the one who’d caught the ball.

Landry bumped fists with him and shot Riley one last reassuring look before he took to the sideline to catch his breath.

“Great play,” Coach Kelley told him as he passed by, patting him on the back.

“Thanks,” Landry said, grabbing a Gatorade bottle from an assistant. He poured half of it down his throat while his eyes never left the field.

Riley called a running play and handed the ball to Darius. After pushing through the defensive line, he got about five yards.

Landry went to rejoin the field, but Coach Kelley held up his hand, telling him to wait. That he could rejoin next series. Landry made a face.

He’d gotten them to mid-field, hadn’t he?

But he settled back to wait, not very patiently, as the Condors’ offense lined up for another play.

This one was passing, and Landry felt his heart plummet all the way to the ground as Boyd, the left tackle currently protecting Riley’s blind side, slipped on the turf, and the pass rusher went right by him, totally unblocked. Riley wasn’t going to see the hit coming, he was going to get absolutely demolished, and there was nothing Landry could do to stop it.

His fists clenched.

Nothing he could do but just stand here and watch it happen.

The guy drove Riley right to the ground, knocking the ball loose, and even though Cole, the center, landed on it, saving the fumble from turning over to the Thunder, Landry only had eyes for Riley.

The players moved, then, and there was Riley. Lying on the field. Motionless.

Landry’s heart didn’t just plummet.

It fucking stopped.

He didn’t think, and he certainly didn’t hesitate.

He ran right onto the field, shucking two sets of hands that tried to hold him back.

He wasn’t going to stand by and just watch. Not any longer.

He reached Riley a few moments later, falling to his knees next to him. “Riley,” he called out, “God, Riley, are you okay?” He didn’t touch him, even though he wanted to more than anything else on earth, because he knew if Riley did have a spinal or brain injury, moving him right now before he was prepared could make it worse.

But Riley didn’t move.

“Riley, God, no, you can’t…I can’t…” Landry panted. “I never even told you.”

“Never even told him what?”

Landry looked up, barely able to tear his eyes from Riley’s motionless form to meet the irate, baffled, concerned gaze of his older brother.

Aidan must’ve come from the opposing sideline to make sure Riley was okay.

“Nothing.” But the muttered response wasn’t from Landry. It was from Riley, who’d just moved and was now struggling to sit up. “He didn’t need to say anything.”

“Riley, come on, don’t move. They gotta check you out,” Landry said, fretting as Riley groaned and levered himself into an upright position.

“I’m fine,” Riley said. “Just got the breath knocked out of me for a second.”

“It looked bad.” That was from Aidan, sounding curiously flat.

Riley held up a hand. “If you say for the millionth fucking time I’m too small to take the hits, I’ll hit you.”

Landry laughed because if he didn’t laugh, he was probably going to do something insane like bawl like a baby all over Riley’s shoulder.

“Guess you’re fine.”

“Guess I am,” Riley said, and Landry helped him up. “Too bad for you.”

Aidan made a face, and Landry turned back to him as two trainers took Riley’s arms to lead him to the sideline to get checked out.

Landry couldn’t deny it; he wanted Riley to be okay because he loved him. But he also wanted him to be okay because he wanted them to beat Aidan in this game.

He wanted Riley to beat Aidan.

“What the fuck was that?” Aidan hissed under his breath, grabbing Landry’s arm and not returning immediately to the Thunder’s sideline.

“What the fuck was what?” Landry retorted, but he knew what Aidan was asking about. He’d raced out here without a single concern about intruding on the field of play, without caring about any possible flags thrown by the refs.

He’d only wanted—no, needed—to make sure Riley was okay.

Because he loved him.

“You ran out here like you were possessed or something, and your face…” Aidan cleared his throat. “What’s going on between you and my brother? Did you…you wouldn’t.”

Oh, but he would. Happily and many, many times.

But this was not the way he’d wanted Aidan to find out.

Not only because it was literally in the middle of the game but because now it looked like he and Riley were trying to hide it from him.

Aidan would not take that well. Not at all.

“I wouldn’t what? Care about your brother? You know what, Aidan? Go fuck yourself.” Maybe it wasn’t Riley telling Aidan to fuck off, but it sure felt good anyway.

“Are you actually serious right now?” Aidan sounded angry and also incredulous.

“Very,” Landry said in clipped tones and turned and walked back to his own huddle.

Charlie came out, not giving an update on Riley, but they’d all get one as soon as they scored a touchdown on this drive—and a touchdown it had to be because Landry was more determined than ever to win this game and show Aidan just how wrong he was.

“You guys good to go?” Charlie asked, glancing down at his armband with its listing of plays. “Good, ‘cause we’re gonna score here. Darius, you ready for the ball?”

Darius nodded. “For Riley,” he said, and the whole huddle chimed in with a variation of the same chant.

For Riley.

It turned out that Darius didn’t score on that play, but on the next. Charlie handed the ball off, and he just took on the line, pushing through it with a bruising force Landry knew he’d be feeling tomorrow.

But he wasn’t feeling it right now. None of them were.

Landry knew, even as they celebrated the touchdown, they were all really thinking about what they’d learn when they returned to the Condors’ sideline.

Would Riley be playing? Or had that hit knocked him out of this game, one of the most important of his young career?

But Riley was waiting for them on the bench, already out of the medical tent.

“I’m all good,” he promised as the team crowded around him. “Promise. Now, let’s talk about how we’re gonna score again and finish the Thunder off.”

“You actually good?” Landry asked under his breath as they got ready to take the field again, the Thunder readying for another punt when Beck and Micah, apparently on the same page, batted down a ball together that a receiver nearly caught for a thirty-yard gain.

“I’m fine,” Riley said firmly. “As for what you said on the field…”

“After,” Landry promised. “We’ll talk about it after.” He meant it. After that scare, he wasn’t going to let another day go by without saying how he felt.

Sure, they were both guys who put more stock into actions than into words, and Landry knew they’d both been living like they loved each other for awhile now, but he’d realized it was important to say it, too.

Riley needed to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, how he was now the most important person in Landry’s life.

The smile on his face.

The reason he got up in the morning.

The brilliance in every single day.

“Come on then,” Riley said with a confident smile. “Let’s do this, then.”

“Riley,” one of the reporters asked him when he’d finally gotten to the microphone for the after-game press conference, “what does it mean to not only beat your brother, but to now have two wins under your belt?”

Riley took a deep breath.

So much had happened in the last two hours that it was hard to even process it. He’d played against the Thunder, against his brother—and won. He’d nearly been knocked out of the game. Landry and Aidan had apparently gotten into it right after he’d gone down, and Landry was being close-lipped about exactly what had happened, but Carter had told him, right before he’d walked in here, that it hadn’t sounded good from where he’d been standing.

“I’ll tell you one thing to start,” Riley said. “Did you know that only one set of quarterback brothers have ever played against each other? Yeah, you probably already know that. It’s all anyone’s been talking about all week. The one set of brothers was the Mannings, of course. And all three times, Peyton beat Eli. But today, I got a little payback for all the younger brothers out there.”

“More than a little,” the reporter retorted lightly. “You beat him twenty-one to three.”

“Felt good,” Riley said. “Felt real good. Especially because there was a time when nobody was sure I’d be able to hack it as an NFL quarterback. But those days are gone. That conversation is closed. I’m here, and I’m ready to play. And not only that, but I’m planning on playing my kind of game.”

“What about the injury you sustained in the third quarter?” Another reporter asked.

“Just got the wind knocked out of me. Some rib bruising. No breaks. I’m sure I’ll be hurting tomorrow, but I’ll be back to practice Tuesday.”

“Do you have anything to say about the way Landry Banks came onto the field when he saw you’d been injured and weren’t getting up?” This was from the first reporter, a dark-haired woman, clearly tenacious, who both fortunately and unfortunately reminded him of Paige.

“No,” Riley said shortly. He knew the press would get more out of his simple denial than a lie that Landry was just a friend and he’d been worried, but he wasn’t going to make up some story. Not when Landry was right outside the door, waiting for him to finish so they could go tell Aidan the truth.

He never wanted to lie about him and Landry and what they meant to each other, but he sure wasn’t going to do it right now.

“Any more questions?” Nikki asked, speaking up no doubt to deflect any additional attention from the question he hadn’t answered. But then, it wasn’t like the reporters hadn’t already taken note of his brief No and run with it.

He fully expected to see a few speculative stories in the press about them, but that was okay. As Coach had said, it was up to them how they chose to engage. If they didn’t want to talk about it, they didn’t have to.

Another reporter asked one last question about a running touchdown he’d made late in the fourth quarter to finally put the game away, and he commented some on that, but then, thankfully, he was done.

Landry was waiting for him outside the media room.

“You could’ve said,” Landry observed under his breath, “that I was worried fucking sick about you because you were just lying there.”

“Yeah, I could’ve,” Riley said, shrugging. “But I didn’t want to. It’s…it’s okay that this is just for us, for now, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Landry put an arm around Riley’s waist. Tucked him into a tight embrace. “And I wouldn’t want to do or say anything that might downplay or take away from what you accomplished today. You did good. Correction…you did fucking amazing.”

“Thanks, so did you. You really kicked us off with that pass you caught and ran with in the third,” Riley said. He paused because he wasn’t sure how to put the question. “What happened between you and Aidan? Carter just said you got into it after the trainers helped me off the field.”

Landry stopped, turned, and faced Riley. “I’m gonna be honest,” he said. “I freaked out. You weren’t moving. I was losing my mind. I said—”

“I know what you said. You said, I never even told you.”

“Yeah,” Landry acknowledged, nodding. “I know.”

“And Aidan heard.”

“Aidan…” Landry shook his head. “He might’ve guessed. I don’t know. He was pretty angry. Said something typical asshole-Aidan, and then I told him to fuck off. God, I told your brother to fuck off, and now I’m going to have to tell him I’m in love with you.”

Riley’s heartbeat accelerated. Had he heard correctly? Or had it just been his imagination—no, his fantasy—filling in the gap with what he most wanted to hear?

“Did you just say you love me?”

“Yeah,” Landry said, eyes never leaving Riley’s. “I did.”

Landry’s gaze was so warm on his face. So loving. Riley had known this was love; it couldn’t be anything else. They’d been showing it for weeks, but neither of them had said the words until now.

He’d even kinda believed the words weren’t entirely necessary since they were both more men of action.

But now that Landry had said it, he knew the words were exactly what he needed. He wanted to hear them every day for the rest of his life.

“I love you, too,” Riley said, “so fucking much.” But before he could get any other words out, Landry had scooped him up and was twirling around with him in his arms, like they were some kind of rom-com pair, and then Landry kissed him, and nothing, really nothing, else mattered.

“God, you’re incredible,” Landry said as he finally set him down. “I know I messed this up with Aidan, but we’re gonna fix it. We’re going to tell him, and it’s going to be…”

Landry trailed off, and Riley, still caught up in the way Landry was looking at him—though frankly it wasn’t like he hadn’t already recognized that particular look, he had—didn’t figure out why Landry had stopped talking until he finally tore his eyes away from his boyfriend, and saw what he’d seen.

Aidan, stalking towards them, a frown on his face.

“Care to explain what the hell is going on here?” he asked, his glare encompassing both of them.

Riley hadn’t quite been able to decide how Aidan was going to handle this.

Would he blame Riley for seducing his best friend?

Claim it was Landry’s fault for taking advantage of a young and naive Riley?

But the way Aidan looked now, it seemed like they were both currently on his shit list.

“Surprise,” Riley said weakly. “We’re together now.”

“You mean, this isn’t a joke?”

“Does it look like a joke?” Landry’s voice was still even. But it had a core of steel. “I wouldn’t ever joke about this. Riley’s very important to me.”

“No,” Aidan said insistently. “Riley’s very important to me.”

“Then you have a funny way of showing it,” Landry said quietly, resolutely. “I want Riley to succeed. I want him to find the ceiling of his capability. You just want to shove him down so you don’t look bad. So you continue being the top dog. Well, today was a real awakening for you, wasn’t it? You’re not. Not anymore.”

Aidan’s face went white.

Riley had always wondered if he could actually tell his brother to fuck off, but here Landry was doing it instead. Instead of cheering, all Riley wanted to do was to wrap his arms around his brother and shield him from all the uncomfortable truths he needed to hear but wasn’t ready to listen to.

But if he did that, if he walked back everything Landry was saying, Aidan wouldn’t ever grow. He wouldn’t ever learn.

He’d be treating Aidan the same way Aidan had always tried to treat him, and Riley knew he couldn’t let that happen.

Every inch of the way, he’d fought against Aidan’s instinct to coddle him, to protect him from anything bad, and he couldn’t deny that was part of why he’d succeeded when everyone else had predicted he’d fail. Now that the tables were turned, Riley wasn’t going to subject him to the same bullshit.

That wasn’t what family did.

That wasn’t what brothers did.

“Riley, you need to talk to me,” Aidan demanded. “What the fuck is going on? You’re with Landry? And he’s…” Aidan fumbled the rest of the sentence like he couldn’t believe the most loyal friend in the universe, Landry Banks, had transferred that loyalty to someone else. Aidan didn’t realize it now, maybe he never would, but Riley knew that the only reason Landry had was that Aidan no longer deserved it the way he once had.

“He’s right,” Riley said.

Aidan did a double take. “Excuse me?”

“I said,” Riley repeated, “that he’s right. I don’t want him to be, Aidan. I know it sucks to hear. You wanted the best for me, but only as long as I wasn’t as good as you were. I can’t do that, put a cap on my own ability because you’re afraid of feeling irrelevant.”

Aidan’s face hardened. “Riley—”

“No,” Riley said, holding up a hand. “No. This is how it is. I’m a quarterback in the NFL. I’m a starting quarterback in the NFL. I’m not too weak. I’m not too small. And Landry and me? We’re together now. I know that’s going to be hard to face, but we love each other. We found each other, and we love each other, and I don’t want to hear a damn word about it except that you’re happy for us. As for today, as for the game, I know, deep down, in a place where you’re not hurting, you’re happy for me, too. So just say it. Just say you’re happy about it.”

But Aidan didn’t say anything. Not for a very long time.

Long enough that Riley couldn’t help but despair that he wouldn’t.

Was he going to have to walk away from his brother because he wouldn’t do the right thing? He might have to.

Landry’s hand found his own and squeezed it hard. He knew it, too. He might lose his best friend over this, at least temporarily.

It had always been the potential cost, and they’d both willingly paid it, but was it so wrong to hope anyway that Aidan might come around?

“I…” Aidan finally spoke. “I’m sorry you thought I might not be happy for you.” He’d said it quietly, in a voice unsure and very unlike Aidan Flynn.

“I hoped you would be,” Riley said.

“Well, I am. And I’m sorry too that I was so tough on you. I…” Aidan hesitated. “I do want the best for you. I guess I always thought I knew what that was. But maybe I don’t.”

Riley nodded. “Maybe you don’t. But maybe…maybe we could start over. Not as Aidan and the kid, but…Aidan and Riley? Then you’d get to see it firsthand. Learn it for yourself what the best thing is for me.”

Impossibly, Aidan’s face softened. He looked, Riley realized, almost like he had during those awful days when their parents had freshly divorced, and it felt like nobody was looking out for them—when nobody looked out for him except for his older brother.

“Yeah,” he said. His voice was rusty, like he hadn’t tried any of this in a long time.

Riley figured he hadn’t.

“Good.” Riley let go of Landry’s hand and caught a glimpse of shock on Aidan’s face right before he hugged his brother.

He might drive him crazy, he might dislike so many of the things he did and said, but deep down, he was always going to be the brother Riley loved. No matter what.

After a second, Aidan hugged him back—tightly, fiercely. Then he turned to Landry and said, “If you hurt him…”

“Don’t worry,” Landry said. “I’ll be the first to punch myself in the face.”

“Sounds good,” Aidan said. “I suppose you’ve got a plane back to Charleston to catch.”

“Yeah,” Riley said and discovered he was actually reluctant about that.

“Well, when the off-season arrives you won’t be able to run off so easily.” Aidan’s smile was uncomfortable, but Riley could tell he was trying. “Maybe I’ll even come to you.”

“I’d like that.” Riley paused. “We’d like that, actually.”

With one last awkward smile, Aidan turned to walk away, but then, suddenly, he turned back halfway down the hallway. “And if I didn’t say it,” he called out, “hell of a game today, little brother.”

Riley laughed, leaning against Landry as his brother disappeared from sight.

“Well,” Landry said cautiously, “that went pretty well, actually. All things considered.”

“I didn’t tell Aidan to fuck off.”

“No, you did even better than that. You made him understand, in a way telling him off never would’ve accomplished. I’m just so proud of you, Riley. For how you played, for standing up to him, for handling yourself like a pro. You’re just…” Landry gazed down at him. “I keep saying it because I can’t stop saying it. You’re fucking incredible. And I love you.”

Riley reached up and cupped Landry’s cheek, feeling the scratch of the stubble under his hand. How many years had he imagined doing this exact thing? He couldn’t count, not anymore, but in the end, none of them mattered. He knew what it felt like now, and if he was very lucky, he’d never be able to forget it because he’d be able to do it whenever he wanted. “I love you, too,” he said. He didn’t say he couldn’t have done it all without Landry because he knew he could’ve. But instead—“And thank you for always believing in me.”

“Always,” Landry vowed. “Now, let’s go home, okay?”

Riley smiled. “Okay.”