Page 102 of Truck Hard

Liam

Missing you both. Let me know if you need anything.

The simple words carry so much weight. It’s been too long since I last saw him, since that perfect afternoon by the lake turned into this aching silence. I’ve been avoiding his calls, histexts, the love I see in his eyes every time he looks at me. All because I’m too scared to face the truth. To trust in his love.

I pick up another photo from the scattered pile. This one’s different—not of Liam and me, but of my parents on their wedding day. Mom is radiant in her simple white dress, dad beaming beside her like he can’t believe his luck. They had thirty-five years together before cancer took her from us. Thirty-five years of building a life, raising a family, choosing each other every single day.

Their love was so strong, so unbreakable, that Dad didn’t last long without her. He just gave up on living. Didn’t see a reason to be on this earth without her.

That’s what real love looks like. Not the twisted, poisonous thing Charlie called love. Not the cage he built around me, brick by painful brick.

No, real love is what I see in Liam’s eyes when he watches Cam play baseball. It’s in the gentle way he touches me, like I’m something precious instead of broken. It’s in how he shows up, day after day, even when I push him away.

My fingers hover over his name in my phone. I should call him. Should try to explain why I’ve been distant, why those three words sent me spiraling back into memories I thought I’d buried.

But what would I say?I’m sorry I’m such a mess? Sorry I can’t be the woman you deserve? Sorry I let fear win again?

Another photo catches my attention—this one of Cam when he was maybe four or five, sitting on my lap while I read him a story. Even then, the resemblance to Liam was striking. How did I ever think I could keep that secret? How did I convince myself that staying with Charlie was protecting anyone?

Liam chose us. He keeps choosing us, every day, even when I make it hard. Even when I let fear build walls between us.

My phone buzzes again—James Reynolds calling for the third time today. I know what he wants to discuss. The paternity test would legally establish Liam as Cam’s father, would give him rights that Charlie could never challenge. But it would also make everything real in a way I’m not sure I’m ready for.

You’re just scared, a voice that sounds suspiciously like my mother whispers.Scared of letting yourself believe in happily-ever-afters again.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I answer the call.

“Hannah.” James sounds relieved. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I’ve been…”Hiding. Running. Letting fear win.“… processing things.”

“Charlie’s lawyer is pushing back hard on the paternity testing,” he says, getting straight to business. “They’re claiming it would be traumatic for Cameron to have his parentage questioned at this stage.”

A bitter laugh escapes me. “The only trauma Cam has experienced came from Charlie.”

“Exactly. Which is why we need to move forward with this now, while the judge still has Charlie’s violent episodes fresh in her mind. But I need your go-ahead.”

I close my eyes, thinking of Cam’s voice this morning when he mentioned Liam picking him up from practice. The joy in his tone, how naturally he said “dad” now instead of Liam.

“Do it,” I say before I can second-guess myself. “Whatever paperwork you need me to sign, whatever needs to happen. Let’s make it official.”

“Are you sure?” James asks carefully. “Once we start this process—”

“I’m sure.” And I am, with a certainty that surprises me. “Cam deserves to have his real father’s name on his birthcertificate. And Liam…” My voice catches. “Liam deserves to have legal rights to his son.”

“Alright. I’ll draw up the paperwork today. It shouldn’t take long to get the test schedule. A few days maybe. We’ll need Liam and Cam to come in and submit samples.”

“I’ll let them know.” I promise, though the thought makes my hands shake. “Just email me the details?”

After hanging up, I look around at the scattered photos surrounding me. Each one tells a story—of love, of loss, of choices made and paths not taken. The girl in these pictures couldn’t have known where life would lead her. Couldn’t have imagined the pain she’d endure or the strength she’d find buried beneath her fear.

But maybe she knew something I’ve forgotten. Maybe she understood that love—real love—is worth the risk.

The parking lotsits empty except for a handful of cars scattered near the church entrance. My hands grip the steering wheel as I stare at the illuminated double doors, heart hammering against my ribs. The evening light casts long shadows across the asphalt, and I can’t help but feel exposed sitting here, even though I know I’m safe.

You can do this. I tell myself for the hundredth time.You need this.

I’ve driven past this church every night there’s a scheduled meeting since I returned to Beaver, always finding some excuse not to stop. Too tired after work. Need to get home to Cam. Not ready yet. But tonight feels different. Tonight, the thought of walking through those doors fills me with equal parts terror and desperate hope.

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