Page 68 of Worth the Fight

I finish off his mug of hot chocolate and shove the empty cup against his chest. “Just in a good mood, that’s all.” I move past him and step into the house. Inhaling a deep breath, I smell a roast that my mom must have in the oven. My stomach rumbles already, and I realize I’ve been so busy today that I must have missed lunch, too.

“A good fucking mood all right,” Theo grumbles, following me into the house and shutting the door behind him. He reaches for a broom that’s leaning against the wall and sweeps up the pile of snow that I tracked in with me. “Maybe I should book a flight to Paris, see if there’s a French woman that could make me as happy as Mags makes you.”

I don’t bother to hide my smile with that. Smiling both because he mentioned Mags and images of her flood my mind. And smiling at the thought of Theo falling in love with anyone. But in a way, maybe he’d like a long-distance relationship. Getting to see the person you care about once every few months, if you're lucky, might be the type of commitment he could handle.

I shuck off my jacket, hanging it on one of the brass hooks that line the wall under the stairs. Slipping off the straps of my overalls, I let them hang around my waist as I prop my hands on my hips. “Want me to ask Mags if she has any friends available? Ones that are looking for a life-long bachelor.” I pretend to look him over from head to toe. “One that’s looking worse for wear these days, mostly gray hair, his only positive attribute is his younger, better-looking brother.”

I squint, leaning in to look closer at his face. “And one that apparently is going through puberty. Nice little stash, by the way.” I raise a finger to point at the mustache he’s starting to grow, and he swats at my hand.

“It’s only been a few days, give it a week or so, and it’ll be full Tom Selleck style. It’ll drive women mad.”

“Is that so,” I deadpan, leaning over to untie my boots, and Theo takes that moment to wrap his arm around my head, snaking me into a headlock.

“Careful, little brother,” he grunts, stumbling backward when I lean into him, using my weight to shove him to the side. His opposite shoulder hits the wall with a thud, and I use that moment to wrap my arm around his leg, pulling him to the ground.

We thrash back and forth, and I manage to lock my legs around his. He still has half a grip around my neck when the front door swings open, nearly hitting us both in the head.

“Mom!” Harper shouts, kicking off her boots and stripping her fur-lined jacket off. She tosses the jacket on top of us, stepping over our mess as she heads toward the kitchen. “Come get your children, they’re acting like animals!”

Theo’s hand swings out, trying to grab her by the ankle but narrowly missing. I tighten the grip my legs have around his thighs, and he grunts, squeezing my neck with one arm and shoving Harper’s jacket to the side with the other.

“Truce?” he grunts, and I push through one last ditch effort to see if I have any energy left before grunting my own truce.

On the count of three, we let go, both of us sighing with relief and lying on the floor. I roll to my back and stare up at the ceiling. “When did we get old?” We used to wrestle for hours without even breaking a sweat.

“You and me both,” he says, just as my phone rings from somewhere in the distance.

My hand flies to my chest, to my pants, and I slap the outside of my thighs only to remember that it’s in my jacket pocket. Hopping to my feet, I fumble as I step toward the wall. I reach out and fish through my side pocket, pulling out my phone and pressing it to my ear.

“Mags, sweetheart?” I rush out. It’s a little late for her there. I hadn’t expected to get a call from her tonight, just a quick text to say she’s home from rehearsal and headed to bed.

“Is this a bad time?” Her voice is soft, low, and it sounds like she’s been crying.

“No, no, not at all. I was just showing Theo who’s the boss.”

Theo laughs at that. “Don’t listen to him, Mags! He’s gone soft!”

I pretend to lift a leg to kick at him, and he brings his hands to his face, body curling in, and I smile at his mock bravery.

I leave Theo still lying on the floor in the entryway as I take the stairs two at a time, not stopping until I shut my bedroom door behind me.

“What’s going on, baby? Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she quivers. “Just had a bad day and wanted to talk.”

Even though I’m still covered in sweat from snow-blowing and wrestling Theo, my entire body breaks out in goosebumps. “What happened?”

“I fractured my foot again.”

My heart sinks, and I turn, popping down on the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” I scrub a hand over my face in frustration. Mags has been dealing with that sore foot for weeks now. She’s spent extra time with PT, ice, heat, nerve stimulation. You name it, and she’s tried it. But this is her third fracture, likely to the same area, and each fracture seems to be harder to heal.

“I’m so angry, Lukas. I should have listened to my body. I should have taken it easy yesterday. I felt off all day and landed wrong after a jump. It was a stabbing pain, so intense I crumbled to the ground. It normally isn’t like that.”

“I’m so sorry, Mags. Did you see the specialist yet?”

“I should have known better,” she cries, ignoring my question. “I knew something was off. I knew it, Lukas. I was pushing through anyway, for some dumb reason.”

“Because you didn’t want to admit that you couldn’t do it,” I add. “I get that, sweetheart, and I think that’s the athlete mindset in you.”