Page 67 of Fear of Falling

“Oh really?” Wyatt raised a hand and wiped away my tears.

“Every time there was a game on, we watched it together. We’d sit on the couch with snacks and drinks. If one of us were busy, the other would tape it so we could watch it together later.”

“That sounds like a blast.” His smile widened. “What was his favorite team?”

Normally when someone asks me about my dad I shut down—talking about him was still too painful. So, it surprised me when I found myself answering his questions.

“He went back and forth. He liked the Calgary Flames,” At that, he scoffed. “And of course the Knights.” Which wasn’t a lie, my dad grew up watching the Toronto Knights. “He would freak out if he knew I’d met you. Neither of us would have a say in the matter–he would have demanded I bring you home so he could do the whole ‘mean dad thing’ but then he’d ask you a million questions about hockey.”

“Well, he was clearly a man of great taste,” Wyatt joked, his smile wavering slightly, as though he was unsure of himself. I found myself smiling, appreciating his attempt at lightening the mood. As sad as it made me, talking about dad, on the flip side, it also felt good to share my memories of him with another person. Someone other than Tasha and Lydia.

“Wait, does that mean you’ve seen me play before? Are you secretly a stalker?” Wyatt asked with wide eyes.

“Yep, totally. I know where you do yoga and everything,” I deadpanned.

“I knew I felt eyes on my ass the whole class.” He played along, making me laugh, the sound scratchy.

We fell into silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. His fingers soothed me as he wiped at the last of my tears and drew his fingers through mine.

“Thank you for telling me about him,” Wyatt said softly. “I would have loved the chance to meet him.”

I leaned my cheek into the palm of his hand meeting his eyes.

“Dad would have really liked you.”

24

JOSIE

“Ready to get on the ice?”

I glanced at the pair of skates sitting by my feet, my body already feeling the bruises I was about to sustain from falling on the ice. For the first time in my life, I wished for a little more padding on my butt.

Thankfully, Wyatt provided a wanted distraction as he slid on his own skates. His fingers moved with such efficiency, lacing up his skate, making quick work of tightening the laces from the bottom, all the way to the top before securing them in a knot.

Damn he’s good with his hands.

In a matter of minutes, he was all laced up and ready to go. He stood up and glanced over at me and then my skates which remained untouched.

“So, I have a confession,” I gave him a sheepish look. “I, uh…I don’t really know how to skate.”

“You live in a place that basically invented hockey and you don’t know how to skate?” His eyes widened as a smile tugged at his lips. I shook my head. It was practically a crime in Toronto to not know how to skate. During the cold winter months, every kid was out on the frozen lakes or the ice rinks, skating. In high school, ice-skating was the most popular kind of date.

“It’s okay, you’re not entirely hopeless,” Wyatt said, his grin breaking free.

“Excuse me. Hopeless?”

“I added ‘not entirely’ on there,” he said, as if it made it any better. “Don’t worry, we should be able to at least get you to a six-year-old level.”

“You do know this is a date, right? You’re supposed to woo the girl, not make fun of her.” I raised an eyebrow at him.

“This is a date?” Wyatt said, his mouth gaping dramatically. “I thought we were just two bros hanging out.”

“Did you just ‘bro’ me?” Now it was my mouth that fell open.

Wyatt chuckled as he lowered into a squat in front of me. My eyes widened a fraction at the sight. His shoulders looked even broader from this angle. The urge to grab him and pull him to me grew with each passing second. He grabbed my ankle and gently pulled off my shoe, placing it on the ground beside him. My lungs stopped working as he kept my foot on his lap while grabbing my skate. His finger tapped against the inside of my ankle, prompting me to lift my foot up so he could slide it inside the skate.

I was literally frozen to the bench, watching as his fingers laced up my skate with precision. I felt like my brain was malfunctioning—all coherent thoughts were gone. I’d never thought that seeing a man like Wyatt on his knees before me would turn me on so much.

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