First Chapter Stubborn Fix

Grady

If one more thing breaks today, I’m setting this whole damn place on fire.

The engine won’t cooperate, and neither will my brothers—a standard Monday.

I lean forward and put my back into it. To no avail. The damn screw won’t budge.

I glance around the shop while my anger simmers. Most folks see a beat-up, two-bay garage on the edge of a town progress has forgotten. I see my whole damn life.

Dad built this place with his bare hands and a handshake loan from the local bank, back when banks still made those. The first time I changed a tire, I was nine, elbows-deep in mud and proud as hell.

Dad died less than ten years later. Just one stroke and everything fell on me.

Finn stepped up without being asked. Callum was still a kid, wide-eyed and full of questions. Hell, most days he still acts like a kid. I kept the lights on. Learned how to balance a ledger and rebuild an alternator in the same week. Took jobs nobody wanted, simply to make rent. We almost lost the place more than once.

But I held it together. We held it together.

That old wooden sign above the door still says MacAllister’s Garage. The paint might be chipped and faded, the edges worn soft with time, but it’s still there. I should take it down, maybe repaint it, but every time I reach for a ladder, I stop. It’s the last thing Dad touched before he passed. Some days, I swear I can still hear his voice when I fire up the compressor.

Our work isn’t glamorous. Hell, some weeks it’s not even profitable. But this garage is ours. It’s not just a business, it’s a legacy. A lifeline. The one thing we’ve built together and kept standing through every storm.

Letting it go? Not an option. But damn if it wouldn’t be nice to come home to more than a sink full of dishes and a half-dead houseplant.

I’ve been at the bolt for ten minutes straight. My knuckles are raw, sweat drips from my temples, and the wrench slips no matter how tightly I grip it. I want to throw the tool clean across the garage, but the only thing stopping me is knowing I’ll have to fetch it afterward, and I’m too close to losing it already.

The heat is heavy, thick with motor oil and salt from the bay. June in Northwick Cove isn’t the worst, but the garage’s interior is a furnace. The overhead door’s open to the main street, but the air outside is just as still. No wind. No customers. No brothers.

Savannah has the day off, and Callum claimed he was heading to the parts shop, though I’d bet good money he’s at the diner flirting with Kat again. Finn? Still pissed from last night, I’d guess. Didn’t say a word this morning before storming out, jaw tight, coffee mug half-drained on the counter like he couldn’t stand to be in the same room with me another second.

We don’t fight, not really. But change rattles him. And I should’ve known better than to bring it up the way I did. As if the idea of letting someone new in wouldn’t hit him like a wrecking ball.

I step back from the Ford, stretch out my sore arm, and rotate my wrist. The damn bolt still hasn’t moved, my shirt sticks to my back, and I’m one spark away from snapping.

The pantry door groans as I shove it open. It’s barely more than a glorified closet we pretend is a break room—if one’s idea of a break room includes dusty shelves, an ancient mini fridge, and the occasional squirrel trying to steal a protein bar.

The fridge lets out a wet, rattling fart the second I open it.

“Damn it, Callum.”

If that isn’t bad enough, when I slam the door shut, a cascade of confetti bursts from above, fluttering down in patriotic red and blue.

How the hell does he do that kind of stuff anyway?

I stare at the tiny slips of paper now littering my boots and the floor then grab a Coke, pretending nothing happened. His prank fuse has been lit ever since I switched the labels on his protein powder and instant mashed potatoes. I should’ve known retaliation was coming.

I love my brothers, but some days I swear they’re more work than a busted carburetor.

Finn’s got a mind like a calculator and a temper like a busted spark plug. Sharp, quiet, always ticking just under the surface. He handles the numbers, keeps the bills paid and the books balanced, but when it comes to feelings? Might as well ask the fridge for emotional insight. He holds everything in until it explodes, and by then, he’s halfway out the door.

And Callum? He’s the opposite. Mouth always running, smile always ready. He knows exactly how to defuse a situation, usually by first making it worse. He’s the kind of guy people underestimate, andhe lets them. Keeps things light, keeps us laughing, but I know better. He feels everything but buries it under jokes and bad prank videos.

They’re both good men. Hell, I’m proud of them. But it’s hard carrying all the weight when they dodge anything deeper than a surface-level joke or a grunt of approval. Harder still when I’m trying to talk about something real, about building a future together, not simply running in place till we’re old and alone.

We work. We survive. But surviving isn’t the same as living.

Maybe that’s what I want most. A life. Not only a rhythm of repairs, rent, and responsibility.

Something more.

I crack open the can, take a deep swig, and return to the car. The bolt’s still glaring at me, smug as hell. I pour the rest of the Coke over it and watch the fizz do its thing. Sugar, acid, and spite. I respect that. Let’s hope the stupid bolt does, too.

As I wait, Savannah’s laugh still rings in my ears from the previous weekend. We were all at the house she now shared with Todd and Colton, enjoying beers and grilled corn while trying to look like we weren’t studying their every move.

Because it works. The three of them. Somehow it works.

And maybe, it could work for us, too.

Todd caught me watching them and didn’t even blink. “You already share everything with Callum and Finn,” he said. “Running the garage. Forming a household together. It’s not that different.”

And the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.We already live like a unit. Three men, one house, shared bills, shared burdens. Our mom’s getting older, and her health’s been shaky the past few years. We cover her meds, her groceries, everything she needs. Finn handles the budget. Callum fixes the leaks. I make sure the roof stays over all our heads.

Truth is, we couldn’t afford to split into three households. Not unless we want to lose the garage, and none of us are ready for that.

But it’s not only about money.

It’s about building something that lasts. Something solid.

I want a partner, someone who’ll take one look at this place and see the potential I see. A future. Not merely a crumbling old repair shop with barely working fans and tools as old as dirt but without a speck of rust. Someone who doesn’t flinch at dirty fingernails or early mornings. Who sees loyalty as something earned and returned.

And yeah… maybe I don’t want her exclusively for me.

If men like Todd and Colton can make it work with Savannah; if Jack, Mason, and Elliot can keep Diana happy without jealousy tearing them apart then why the hell not us?

Sure, we’re rough around the edges, stubborn as hell. Figuring out how to balance three brothers and one woman in and out of the bedroom won’t be simple. But nothing worth building ever is.

I tried bringing it up last night.

I waited until Mom went to bed. Even now, years after we took over everything, talking about sex—or anything close to it—with her around still makes my throat lock up. I watched her bedroom light click off, waited a full five minutes, and only then dropped the conversation on the table like a grenade.“We ever think about settling down?” I asked, casual as I could manage, sipping on the last beer in the fridge.

Finn looked at me like I’d grown a second head. Callum raised his eyebrows and leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled like he was trying not to laugh.

“With a woman,” I added. “Together.”

That got their attention.

Callum blinked. “What, like Sister Wives but… not?”

I glared. “No. Like what Todd and Colton have with Savannah. Or Jack, Mason, and Elliot with Diana.”

Callum’s grin turned wicked. “You proposing to me, Grady?”

Finn stood without a word, chair scraping harsh across the floor. He disappeared out the back door, leaving it half-open. Just… gone. No argument. No questions. Just the shutdown.

Callum’s chuckle didn’t reach his eyes. “Hell of a thing to spring after dinner, big brother. For that to work, we’d need a woman with a referee’s whistle and combat boots.”

It wasn’t a “spring”. I’d been chewing on it for weeks. Months maybe. Watching Savannah settle in like she’s always belonged. Seeing Diana stride into town and wrap three grown men around her little finger without breaking a sweat.

I want that. Not only the sex, though God knows it’s been too long since I had anything worth remembering. No, it’s more than that.

I want connection, a life built around something that isn’t onlywork and worry.

What the hell are our options? Northwick Cove has a man-to-woman ratio that makes bachelor auctions a blood sport. Most of the women around here are married, engaged, or long gone. Every time a single woman under forty drives into town, Becca hears about it before her tires cool, and within an hour someone’s telling her which three men tried their luck and got shot down.

I’ve been here long enough to see how fast a pretty face gets claimed or scared off.

Hell, when Finn turned eighteen, I went into full big-brother mode, dragged him out behind the garage with a six-pack, and handed him a box of condoms like I was giving him a toolkit.

“Odds are stacked against you here,” I said. “So, when the time comes, don’t be stupid. Respect her, listen, and wrap it up.”

Finn flushed red but nodded. Three years later, I did the same thing with Callum, who merely opened the box, grinned, and asked if they came in glow-in-the-dark.

That was more than a decade ago.

Not one of us has managed to build anything close to permanent. A few hookups here and there. Some late-night fumbling in the back of a truck. But real connection? That takes more than what this town usually offers.

And the truth is, I don’t want only a slice of someone’s attention.

I want all in. I want her to walk into our home and know it’s hers, too. I want her to see me at my worst and still choose to stay. I want to build something so solid, not even time can crack it.

But first, I’ve got to convince my brothers it’s not insane to want to share the good stuff, too—not only the responsibility.I’ve got to believe there’s a woman out there who’ll take on all three of us… and call it home.

When I brought it up, I got the usual reaction. Callum cracked a joke, and Finn didn’t even bother responding. He simply stood up and walked out the back door, his silence louder than any argument.

I’m not gonna lie, part of me misses the sex.

It’s been… a while. And even before that, nothing worth remembering. A few forgettable hookups. Fast, quiet, behind locked doors and never twice with the same woman. No one stays in this town if they’ve got options, and the few who do are either married, related, or think anyone with grease under their nails isn’t worth their time.

But it’s not only the physical part. I miss… the connection. The weight of someone pressed against me at night. A woman breathing, soft and steady, not because she’s exhausted or afraid, but because she’s content. I miss the curve of a body that fits against mine without needing to ask permission first. I miss laughter.

Conversations that don’t start with “What’s broken now?”

I want someone who looks at me and sees more than a paycheck, more than a pair of hands to fix her flat or move her fridge. Someone who wants to stay.

Someone I don’t have to hide parts of myself from.

Hell, I want to be touched like I matter. Not like a favor. Not like a one-time fling.

I want permanence.

And if I could share that—with Finn’s steadiness under pressure, with Callum’s light where I’m all shadow—maybe we could give a woman something whole. Something good.

If she exists.

If she’s brave enough.

I grip the wrench and lean back into the job, muscles tight, heart heavier than I’d admit. The bolt moves a hair, and that’s all it takes..

It’s a start.

And maybe that’s all I need.

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