Page 32 of Fear of Falling

“What ladies,” I smirked.

“I’m telling mom!” Mateo said with his head locked under Landon’s arm.

Right on cue, mom stepped into the dining room. All three of us froze as she stared at us. Her eyes look at Mateo in a chokehold before moving up to Landon, who hadn't released him, remaining perfectly still. I raised my hands innocently as she looked at me.

“Where did I go wrong.” she muttered before turning on her heel and returning to her cooking.

Landon kept Mateo in a hold for another second before letting go. Mateo sent us a smug look before sauntering out of the room.

“Come on, old man. Let’s grab the food.” I clapped Landon’s back, grinning at the glare I received, and headed back into the kitchen.

14

WYATT

“You’re coming to the game, right?” Mateo asked as we ate.

“Of course. I’m not missing you kick ass in the championship,” I nodded.

Like I would miss my baby brother's big game.

I’ve made it a goal to try to never miss any of his games. There've been a few unavoidable misses thanks to my schedule, but I never want Mateo to know what it feels like not to have someone in the stands for you.

Because Mateo was only a month old when our father left, he has no recollection of him. So, Landon and I made it our mission to make sure that Mateo never lacked support. The championship was the biggest game of his high school career, so of course we would be front row.

“Wyatt language,” mom scolded.

“It's not like he hasn’t heard it before Ma.”

“Yeah, but you and Landon need to lead by example for your younger brother.”

“Yeah Wyatt,” the smug bastard smirked over at me. We all knew the moment mom was out of ear range he swore like a sailor.

“How’s the rink doing Lan?” I asked as I kicked Mateo under the table. Not wanting to be scolded he held back his yelp but glared at me.

“It’s going well. We’ve gotten a lot of kids signing up for little league.”

Landon played hockey in college like I did and was actually quite good but instead of going pro, he decided to do accounting for some firm here in Toronto. Wasn’t until this past year he finally decided to quit the desk job. Then he made the best move of his life by purchasing an old rink, cleaning it up and running it.

Now he teaches skating lessons, has a couple of hockey little leagues for kids to join, and has started doing events there as well. Honestly Landon was a great coach too. He enjoyed hockey and for such a prickly guy, the kids sure loved him.

“Have you thought about hiring some more people to help out and coach? If you got enough kids, you could make another whole team,” I suggested.

“I’ve thought about it,” he answered sincerely. “But we aren’t really in a position where we can afford advertisements and stuff like that.”

“You know I can?—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” he snapped.

Here we go.

“I won’t take any of your money.”

I clenched my jaw. We’d had the same argument time and time again. And not just me and Landon. I’d had the same argument with mom. Playing professional hockey paid well, more than well, but neither of them would ever let me do anything to help them. It frustrated the hell out of me.

What’s the use in having money if you can’t use it to help the ones you love?

When Landon bought the rink, he wouldn’t let me give him a single dime to go towards it. Instead insisting he could handle it on his own. We fought so bad about it; I didn’t talk to him for a good month.

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