Page 33 of Worth the Fight

“No.” I lift my carry-on bag that’s sitting protectively on my lap like a shield. “This is all I have, and I said goodbye to my parents already. And once Nana is home safe, they’re going to fly to France to see me.”

He’s quiet for a few minutes, and I wait for him to put the truck in drive. We’ll arrive at the airport a few hours earlier than needed, but that’s okay. I’ll use that time to rest and try to wrap my head around the last twenty-four hours. Lukas puts the truck in reverse, his arm slinging back over the seat to look behind us as he pulls out of the parking spot. Once he turns, his gaze falls to something in the back.

He stretches to reach for it, bringing a small paper bag to the front seat.

“Shoot. I forgot I told Candi I’d run this out to their house.” He shakes the bag, and I can hear something rattle inside. “Ivy has been fighting an ear infection. She’s almost out of medicine, and Rick is gone for work.”

He hesitates for a moment, and I stare down at the bag still in his hand. “There’s time to stop on the way to the airport. It’s fine.”

I may be angry. Hurt. Confused. But I’m not going to deny a child their medicine.

His gaze holds mine for another minute, then nods once before pulling out of his parking spot and maneuvering through the lot to the main road.

I keep my gaze out the window, pretending to be occupied with the scenery, ignoring the dread filling my gut as we start the drive to Candi’s house.

What if she’s outside? What if she meets him at the truck and I have to stare into the eyes of the woman who Lukas has a child with?

The day Lukas had called and told me that Candi was pregnant, I was standing in the hallway eating a quick protein bar before my last class. His words hit, and my stomach lurched. I hunched over and threw up in the nearest garbage can. I skipped rehearsal that day, feigning a sudden stomach bug. I went home and crawled under the covers and cried myself to sleep. I ignored all calls from Raymond, Ronaldo, my girlfriends from work, letting my sorrow take hold and slept for hours. When I woke and night had fallen, I sat awake for hours, filled with a new sadness I hadn’t felt before.

Even though I initiated the breakup, Lukas hadn’t answered any of my calls after. Even though I made the decision to try to move on, I realized there was no getting over Lukas Hart. Missing him was like missing a part of myself, a limb I had lost years ago but swore I could still feel it when I moved.

I spent so long wondering how it was so easy for him to move on, how he could not only date but meet someone he wanted to have a child with. I imagined him rolling over next to her in the night, searching for her. He’d reach over and wrap his arm around her waist, tugging her to him and pressing his lips to the side of her neck. I imagined her getting his smiles, his teasing, playful nature. I imagined the three of them getting to play baseball at our old farmhouse, and that thought, the idea that my dream could be taken away from me so easily, the pain from that was something I could never have prepared myself for.

“Would you want to come inside when we get there? Meet Ivy?”

My head whips to face him, and he stares cautiously at the road ahead, flipping on his blinker to change lanes.

“Meet her? Them? I don’t have anything against your child, Lukas, but I don’t think I have the stomach for it.”

“Why’s that?” he asks tentatively.

I scoff a little, unsure if he’s playing dumb or if he truly doesn’t see how this could hurt me. “Sorry if I’m not ready to meet the woman you chose over me.”

Lukas taps the brake, the truck immediately slows, and he flips on the blinker as he pulls to the side of the road. My heart rate quickens, sweat gathering on my palms as I brush them nervously over my thighs.

He spins to face me, one arm slung over the steering wheel, the other resting on the seat beside us. “Is that really what you think?”

I shrug once, knowing that if I try to speak, I’ll break down.

He sighs, reaching over to pull one hand from my thigh. He squeezes it briefly before letting go, and my skin misses his touch the moment he releases it.

“I’ve told you a little about the relationship I had with Candi,” he says. “I know it was a shock to you. And if I was in your situation, if the roles were reversed, I would have lost my mind, believe me.” He sighs heavily and presses his palms flat on the seat between us, fingertips stretching outward. “If I tell you something, can I trust you not to tell a single soul? It’s not something I want to share, and I’m not sure if it’ll make you feel better, or if you’ll be even more disgusted with me.” His crystal eyes dart to mine, and the vulnerability in them makes me curious, desperate to hear what he wants to say.

I nod slowly, and he watches, nodding once as if agreeing that we’re doing this.

“I was with Candi at my lowest point,” he starts, and his gaze leaves mine to look out the window. “I was drinking every day, sometimes cracking that first beer was the only reason I’d get out of bed each morning.”

I cringe at that, my mind flashing back to the phone calls I’d get from him once he had been drinking. His words were slurred, personality numbed. The Lukas I knew and loved was nowhere to be found.

“I started smoking pot pretty regularly, too. Anything to numb myself, anything to kill the anxiety, really.”

“Anxiety over what?”

“Everything. You were dating someone, and I hated how those thoughts filtered in and out of my head all damn day. I’d imagine you laughing with this faceless man, kissing him, him getting to…” he trails off, shaking his head. “I thought about the military, the war, the shit I had to do. Basically, everything that could hurt me, I let myself dwell on. Drinking and getting high was my only release. The only time my mind was numb enough to forget what I had done. I took Candi to dinner at a nice restaurant for our first date. I made small talk, tried to be normal, but I knew that I wouldn’t be able to do anything sober…”

I grimace, not liking the feeling of even hearing how messed up he was. I knew it, some of it, at least, but hearing him talk about it feels dirty. Wrong.

“Candi and I only dated for a few weeks, but anytime we were … together … I wasn’t there in the head, if you know what I mean.”