Page 14 of Worth the Fall

“Yeah? Well that’s actually nice to know. But I wanted to get your guys’ opinions on something else before I talk to Dad about it.”

Matthew leaned back into the couch, the cushions practically taking him captive. “This should be good.”

“It’s about the resort,” I said, and he looked instantly bored. “What else would I want to talk to Dad about?”

“I don’t know? A mom for Clarabel? A girlfriend for you? How to use your dick properly since it’s been on hiatus for the last hundred years.” Matthew listed with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Why the hell would I need to talk to Dad about any of that? And my dick is not on hiatus, fuck you very much,” I growled.

“Your hand doesn’t count,” he fired back, and Patrick let out a laugh he couldn’t control before Matthew turned on him. “You don’t get to laugh. You’re in the same boat. Both of you, with your hiatus-having dicks.”

“Just because we don’t stick it in every puck bunny that skates by,” Patrick said, hoping it would shut Matthew up, but we both knew better. Our youngest brother lived to have the last word.

“First of all, puck bunnies don’t typically skate. Second, there’s nothing wrong with going above and beyond for a fan.” Matthew’s player lifestyle had been plastered all over social media gossip sites since he’d started playing professionally, and we’d unfortunately been privy to reading or hearing about it almost daily. “My dick is on the opposite of a hiatus. It’s trending. In the top ten. Has a billion streams.”

“A billion streams seems like a lot,” I said, finishing off the last of my beer.

“I hope you wrapped that shit up every time you used it,” Patrick chastised before looking at me with fear in his eyes.

“Please tell me you didn’t get anyone pregnant,” I added.

Matthew pushed off of the couch, finished off his drink, and crushed the can before heading toward the kitchen. “Always wrapped, fellas. No glove, no love. Never once have I gone without protection.”

“Thank fuck,” I breathed out, and Patrick gave me a look that told me he agreed.

“You guys want another?” Matthew asked as he held the fridge door open with his shoulder.

“I’ll take one,” I said.

“Same,” Patrick agreed.

Matthew grabbed three cold ones and tossed them at us before he sat back down. “All right, I’m ready to hear about boring work shit.”

To be honest, I thought Matthew hated his post-hockey life. It wasn’t that he didn’t love Sugar Mountain or our family’s resort. It was more that he wasn’t supposed to be working for it...yet. He’d always thought he’d retire from hockey sometime in his thirties, then come home and start a family and this new chapter. It had all happened too soon, too fast. He wasn’t ready.

I popped open the can, and it hissed and foamed before I brought it to my lips and took a drink. “You run all of our social media. You’ll care about this. Or at least pretend to.”

“Fine. I care,” Matthew groaned.

When he’d first come home, Matthew hadn’t wanted to do anything, let alone get off his couch. But he’d always been an incredibly talented photographer. At least with his phone. The guy knew how to frame angles and edit photos in ways that should have been impossible for a cell phone to do, but he was a master at it.

Asking him to oversee the resort’s social media was a no-brainer and seemed like a surefire way to ease him back into the family business. Up until he took it over, interns had been handling all it all.

“Hey, man, we know it sucks that you’re not playing hockey anymore,” Patrick cut in, sounding far more patient than I felt at the moment. “But we love that you’re home. We missed you when you were gone. And working at the resort was always part of our future. Remember when we used to talk about running this town together?”

“That’s just it. We do run this town,” Matthew proclaimed, even though I hadn’t felt that way in a really long time. “I think you two forget that Sugar Mountain is ours. We’re the three most eligible bachelors in the whole damn place, and the two of you won’t do shit about it.”

“I don’t think sleeping with half the town’s population is good for business,” I interjected.

Matthew looked like he wanted to say something else, but he swallowed it instead. Fighting over this was pointless and exhausting. We’d done it a million times before and gotten nowhere. Tonight wouldn’t be any different.

“Anyway...” He dragged the word out before blowing out a loud breath. “What do you want to talk to us about, Grumpy?”

I flexed my jaw. “That name will never not be fucking annoying.”

“That’s what makes it so much fun.” Matthew stuck out his tongue, and I pretended like my little brother didn’t act less mature than my eight-year-old daughter.

“Okay,” I said, my focus now on Patrick. “Is the barn still on track to open by spring?”

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