Page 25 of Worth the Fight

“Your carriage and your entourage await you,” Theo says, stepping into the bathroom to stand by me. He squats low, resting his elbows on his knees. “I don’t think we’ve officially met. I’m Theo, Lukas’s older, wiser, and incredibly handsome brother.”

I scoff, letting my head fall back and eyes roll toward the ceiling. “He forgot to say more mature, and obviously, more modest.”

“Obviously, modest,” one of the paramedics mumbles, and as the bathroom starts to fill, I open the shower curtain, stepping in to give everyone more space.

They immediately get to work. Someone rests her arm at her side so they can apply the blood pressure cuff, and the other takes a pen light, shining it across her eyes.

I can see the worry build on her face, so I keep my vision glued to her. Every time her eyes catch me, I make sure to smile and nod. By the third time, she laughs, rolling her eyes before looking at Theo. “He’s a little overbearing, don’t you think?” she whisper-hisses, and Theo barks out a laugh.

“Yeah, but only when it’s someone he cares about, so consider yourself lucky.” He finishes it off with a wink, and Nana smiles before turning her attention back toward me.

“Lukas, if we didn’t have such a history together, Theo here might bump you out of first place as my favorite.”

Theo chuckles at that, lifting his gaze to me and pointing a stern finger in my direction. “Hear that, little brother? Five minutes in, and I’m already vying for her number one spot.”

“How are we doing in here?” a deep voice interrupts. Dean peeks his head in, leaning into the bathroom to assess the situation. He stripped off his coat at some point, wearing his overalls and a Copper Ridge firefighter tee, giving Nana a front row view of the tattoos that start on the backs of his knuckles and trail up his arms, finishing off on the sides of his neck. He looks down at her, smiling.

“Is this another one of your brothers, Lukas?” Nana asks.

“No, ma’am. This is Dean. He works with us at the farm and with Theo at the fire station.”

“Well,” she says, adjusting her shoulders on the floor. She claps her hands over her waist, lacing her fingers together. “I think the competition for cutest helper today just blew wide open.”

CHAPTER 17

Lukas

My shovel scrapes along the concrete floor. The scoop is filled to the brim with horse shit and hay as I lift, feeling the muscles between my shoulders burn with the movement. I swing the shovel and twist, dumping it into the wheelbarrow with a heavy thud.

A warm exhale sounds from behind me, and I turn, spotting my old horse, Bailey, standing at the back of the barn, ears perked, tail swishing back and forth as she watches me.

“Whatcha looking at, girl?” I call to her, turning back toward the heap in front of me, but before I can lower my shovel, she blows out another pocket of air through her nose.

A smile crosses my face, and I stand tall, working my shoulders side to side. Between my days working on the farm, and evenings and weekends spent repairing the old house, my body is shot.

I lean the shovel against the wall, spinning to face the back of the barn with my hands on my hips.

Bailey looks at me, shaking her head once and lifting her front hoof, dropping it on the concrete with a click—the move she used to always show me when she wanted a treat.

“What’s that, girl?” I tease, reaching my arm around the wooden half wall, dipping my hand into the bag of biscuits my grandma whipped up for them. “Thought I was being sneaky, sticking these over here while I worked.” I grab a couple of hunks in my palm, and when I bring my arm over the side of the wall, she catches a glimpse of the cookie-shaped mounds, releasing a gentle nicker that has a smile splitting my face.

I meet her out at the back door, and when she steps closer, snout reaching for my hand, I quickly tuck it behind me. “Nah, ah,” I tsk. “Patience.” Bailey has been the strongest horse we have ever had, and the most patient. We’ve had her for as long as I can remember. She’s a quarter horse, with a rich chestnut coat and a mane to match.

She was the horse all of us kids first learned to ride on. The one that my dad could rely on when he needed a good worker. She’s in her final years now, obvious by the gray streaks in her mane and the white surrounding her eyes. She now gets to spend her time resting, soaking up the sunshine, eating as many sweet treats as she can stomach.

When I come to stand in front of her, I lean down to rest my forehead against hers. She lets me, for a brief second, before taking a step back and shuffling side to side. Her snout reaches out to sniff behind my left hand, and when I don’t budge, she moves to smell my right side.

Her soft whiskers tickle the skin on my forearm, and I chuckle, finally giving in and holding my right hand out to her. Palm flat, I hold still as she steals the apple and oat biscuit from my hand, and I stand there, letting her use it as a plate to catch her crumbs.

Once she’s satisfied that she’s licked up every morsel from hand number one, her brown eyes dart to my other side, and I hold that hand out, offering her the other one.

She takes that one, lips brushing against my palm, and I rub the slobber on the side of my jeans before reaching up to slide my palm down her neck. “Good, huh?”

An exaggerated yawn escapes me, and I close my eyes, lifting my face to the sky. The first warm days of spring are with us, and I soak in the sunny rays for a moment before I sling an arm around Bailey’s neck, resting my cheek against her strong muscle. She stands still, and I lean into the hug, curling my other arm up and around. And for the faintest moment, I feel her turn her head, as if trying to wrap herself around me to return the favor.

“Thanks, girl. Needed this.”

Hugs are one of the things that I’ve come to learn I’ve taken for granted. I used to hug Mags, I’m sure. I know with every hello and goodbye I’d pull her to me, but I can’t remember the in-between times. The hug you give someone just because you’re happy to have them in your life. The hug to say hi after a long day. The ones just to say I care about you. The ones that say thank you.