Page 1 of Worth the Fight

CHAPTER 1

Lukas

SEPTEMBER

“You want to do what?” Theo’s voice nearly cracks with the question. He stares at the run-down, dilapidated house in front of us with his arms crossed firmly over his chest.

“I want to fix it up,” I say again, gesturing to the old house. “I already talked with Mom and Dad, they said I could have it.”

He laughs at that. “They better be giving it away. It’d be pure evil to charge someone for this hunk of junk.” He turns to face me, looking at me for a moment as if to make sure I’m serious before turning back. “Nothing left to it except for spiderwebs and a few ghosts.”

“It’s been empty for a while, that’s for sure.”

Not entirely empty, my memory reminds me. The sun peeks out from a layer of puffy gray clouds, the beams shining down on us. Theo tilts his face to the sky, letting the early fall sun warm his skin. I take that moment with his eyes shut to look back at the front porch. The one that Mags and I sat on all those years ago. Where I held her when her grandpa died. The living room that sits in front of the bay window is where I told her I loved her for the first time, where we gave each other our virginity. And I’d bet my last dollar that if I walked along the porch, our engraved initials are still etched into the old wood on the railing.

“Why not buy a house in town? It’ll cost you more money and more time to fix this one.”

“I could use the project.” Now that I’m two months sober, there isn’t much to do with my spare time. My mind has been a demon—restless, threatening me every night with memories of Magnolia. I can’t turn to the bottle anymore, so maybe something like this will keep my mind busy.

“There’s probably a fixer-upper in town if you really want the project.”

I can feel Theo's assessing gaze, but I don’t turn to face him. Instead, I take a few steps forward, testing the strength of the chipped wooden stairs before walking up. When my feet hit the last step, I spin on a heel to look back at my older brother.

“Listen, old man, if you don’t want to help me, that’s fine, but⁠—”

“Oh, quit.” Theo scoffs, following my trail up the front steps. He reaches my side, and then walks down the aisle, looking up at the crumbling soffit. He blows out a heavy breath, taking off his ballcap and running his hands through the sides of his hair. The gray hair that started sprouting when he was in his twenties really took hold while I was in the Marines. It’s still an easy dig when I want to piss him off, but somehow, the gray has mixed with his light brown hair and gives him a unique look, one that drives the women in town wild. He spins around with his hands on his hips as he looks out at the horizon.

This house has the best view on the property, always has. It sits atop a smaller hill. Low enough that it’s hidden from the road, but high enough to give a view of the sunrise and sunset over the trees. A large maple tree sits off to the side, perfectly shading that end of the porch.

I should put a swing down there. One I could sit on while I lazily sip my morning coffee.

Theo steps forward. His hands reach out to curl around the top railing, his thumb brushing over the carved L + M. The image of that moment sits heavy atop my chest. Mags, curled up against me, tears staining her face as she asks me if we’d make it. I made lots of promises that day, over those few years, and all I have to show for it is the memory of what once was.

Theo’s thumb grazes the carving, and he looks back toward the road for a minute before speaking. “Do you think if you fix up this house, she’ll come back?”

His words catch me off guard, and I nearly stumble. “Who?”

He scoffs, rolling his head to the side to stare me down. “I’m not an idiot, Lukas. Do you think we didn’t notice the tracks that used to line the road leading up to this place? The drive was covered in grass and branches for years, then you and Mags got together, and tracks were worn in the dirt.” He brushes his thumb over our initials again. “We all knew you two were sneaking out here to be alone. I think Ma and Dad were naive enough to not really think about what was going on, but Grayson and I knew better.”

I run a hand over the brittle wooden paneling on the outside wall, noticing a small wasp nest between the boards. “She’ll never come back,” I finally say.

He nods at that, gnawing at his bottom lip for a moment. “Have you even tried?”

The tilt of my chin is so faint, I'm surprised he even sees it, but he barks out a laugh, letting me know how dumb I sound.

“So, you haven’t even talked to her since you broke her heart, and now you want to fix up this house, probably turn it into her dream house or some shit, but you don’t even know how she feels? What she wants?”

“I don’t know, man!” The words whoosh out of me, filled with more anger than I intended them to have, and regret follows. “Sorry,” I mumble. “I just don’t know. I miss her so fucking bad, Theo. I didn’t know it was possible to miss someone this much.” It’s been nine months since she left me that last voicemail. Nine months since her final goodbye.

And there hasn’t been one single day that I haven’t thought of her.

We both turn to the sound of a truck coming toward the house. Within a minute, we see our other brother, Grayson, pulling into the drive.

Theo raises his hand in a wave, and Grayson steps out of his truck, slamming the door with a nod.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says, taking our path up the stairs. The sleeves of his flannel are pushed up, but he keeps his hands tucked in his front pockets, looking around at the shape the house is in.

“What do you think of Lukas’s little side project?” Theo asks.