Page 30 of Fear of Falling

“Have you seen her since?”

“I took her to Rick’s food truck a couple of days ago.” I could feel his gaze boring into the side of my face. “And she’s coming to the game tomorrow.” I said it casually like I still wasn’t fixated on the fact she said yes.

“A game.” The way he said it made me glance over at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You don’t get to pry and then not answer. What?”

Asher sighed and leveled me with a look. “We both know how women are when it comes to athletes. Just be careful is all.”

I wanted to argue with him that Josie wasn’t like that, but he was right in some ways. We were still strangers. I didn’t know Josie well enough to know she wasn’t secretly a puck bunny. But there was just something about her that made me believe she was nothing like those other women.

I’d been burned enough times in the past from women using me only for my status and money. When I was younger, I wanted to believe the best of any woman that showed interest in me, but I was often proven wrong, and over the years I’d become a bit jaded. Hard not to when you’ve been used so many times.

So, while I knew I needed to be careful, I didn’t want to stop whatever was happening between me and Josie.

Thankfully, the bike took that moment to beep, signaling my time was up–as was the conversation.

“Onto some floor stretches,” Asher instructed. I was grateful that he didn’t push the topic further as he helped me run through floor stretches. Within minutes we were back to giving each other shit.

While I laid there doing my stretches, my thoughts drifted to tomorrow night's game, and seeing Josie in the stands. I couldn’t stop thinking about Josie and her coming to the game tomorrow.

A few hours later,I pulled up out the front of my mom’s house for our family’s weekly dinner. It’d been our weekly ritual for years. Even when my schedule gets crazy, I make sure to take a day in the week to come home.

“Ma, I’m here,” I called out as I stepped through the front door.

“In here!” she yelled back, her voice coming from the kitchen. I could already smell the delicious dinner she had cooking. Walking into the kitchen my mom looked over her shoulder and smiled from where she stood at the sink.

“You’re early.” Her short brown hair fell to her chin and the corners of her eyes crinkled into delicate laugh-lines; the only sign that she was getting older. If you saw my mom, you would think she was 33 instead of 50.

“Just excited to see you.” I went over and kissed her on the cheek before grabbing a hand towel and started drying the dishes as she washed.

“I think you're just excited for my cooking.”

“I always crave your home cooking.”

“Don’t worry I made enough for you to take home for later.” My mom patted my hand as I grinned, like she knew what I was going to ask without me needing to say a word.

“I always knew I was your favorite.”

“Get in line, hotshot.” I turned at the familiar sound of my older brother’s voice as he walked into the kitchen. “We all know I’m mom’s favorite on account of being the first born and all.”

I rolled my eyes as Landon came up to my mom’s other side and kissed her cheek. He shot me a smug look over her head.

“Like you could ever be her favorite,” I scoffed. “I’m the golden child.”

“Why do you two bother arguing about it, when we all know it’s me?” Walking through the kitchen came my little brother, Mateo. “As the only person still living here it’s safe to assume it’s no contest.”

As per usual the three of us started bickering back and forth good-naturedly, each stating a reason as to why we would be my mom’s favorite.

“Do we seriously have to have this conversation every week?” My mom finally interrupted us, hands on her hips as she stared us down in mock seriousness.

“Pretty much,” I shrugged, sharing the same smirk with my brothers. If you couldn’t tell from looking at us that we were related, all we had to do was smirk and you’d see the resemblance. The Boone family smirk, my mom liked to call it.

“You three boys will be the death of me. Now, Mateo, go clean up,” she gestured to his sweaty, dirt-laden football uniform. “And you two,” pointing at Landon and me. “Go set the table while I finish up.”

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