Page 106 of Truck Hard

“Yeah.” I gesture at the stubborn stair riser. “These brackets are being a pain in the—uh, neck.”

He snorts at my self-censoring, but moves to hold the board steady while I line up another nail. Working together, we finallyget the piece secured. The rhythmic pounding of our hammers fills the space, comfortable and familiar.

“You’re good at this.” Garret observes after a while. “Should’ve had you helping from the start.”

I shrug, lining up the next board. “Been a bit distracted lately.”

That’s an understatement. The past several days without Hannah have felt like an eternity. Every time my phone buzzes, my heart leaps thinking it might be her. And every time it’s not, the weight in my chest grows heavier.

More laughter drifts up from below—Rayne must be helping decorate the cookies now. The joy in her voice reminds me so much of Cam.God, I missed so much of his life.

“Hey.” Garret’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “She’ll come around.”

“Yeah?” I wipe sweat from my forehead, avoiding his gaze. “What if she doesn’t? What if I pushed too hard, too fast?”

“You told her you loved her,” he says matter-of-factly. “That’s not pushing. That’s being honest.”

“Maybe.” I start measuring the next riser, needing something to do with my hands. “But after everything she’s been through with Charlie… maybe she needs more time before hearing that.”

Garret is quiet for a moment. When he speaks, his voice is thoughtful. “You know, when Charlotte found out about Rayne—about me being her father—I thought that was it. Game over.”

I look up, surprised. We don’t often talk about that time. About how Garret’s brief relationship with Charlotte’s sister resulted in Rayne. How Carol died shortly after giving birth, taking the truth of Rayne’s paternity to her grave. At least until Rayne figured it out herself.

“What changed?” I ask.

“Charlotte did.” He smiles slightly. “Or maybe I did. Maybe we both did. Point is, we talked. Really talked. About everything—the hurt, the fear, the things we wanted for the future. It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it.”

I let his words sink in, thinking about Hannah. About all the things left unsaid between us. “I just… I don’t know how to help her heal. How to prove she can trust me.”

“Maybe you don’t have to prove anything.” He suggests. “Maybe you just need to be there. Show up. Stay steady.”

Before I can respond, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Probably another work email or one of the guys asking about parts for—

My heart nearly stops when I see the message.

Hannah

Can we talk?

Three simple words that send hope surging through my veins. My hands shake slightly as I type back.

Liam

Absolutely. When?

The minutes stretch like hours as I wait for her response. I pace the unfinished room, too restless to stay still. Garret watches me with knowing eyes but doesn’t comment.

Finally, my phone buzzes again.

Hannah

Tomorrow afternoon? Frank’s?

Liam

I’ll be there. Whatever time works for you.

She sends back a time, and I have to resist the urge to pump my fist in triumph. It’s not much—just a conversation—but it’s more than I’ve had in days.

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