Page 11 of Truck Hard

He waves me off with an understanding nod. The staff room is barely more than a closet with a mini fridge and a few hooks for coats, but it offers blessed privacy as I answer the call.

“Mrs. Fisher?” My lawyer’s crisp voice comes through clearly. “I wanted to let you know the divorce papers have been filed. Given the circumstances and the restraining order, we should be able to push this through relatively quickly.”

Relief makes my knees weak. I sink onto an overturned milk crate. “He won’t... there’s no way he can contest it?”

“He can try, but given the evidence and his current incarceration, it would be extremely difficult. The bigger concern is making sure he doesn’t find out about the proceedings until they’re well underway. We don’t want him retaliating.”

Ice forms in my stomach. Charlie’s reach extends far beyond his jail cell—his family’s money and connections guarantee that. “What if he does find out?”

“Then we deal with it.” His voice softens slightly. “You’re doing the right thing, Hannah. Stay strong. I’ll be in touch soon with more details.”

The call ends, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the quiet hum of the mini fridge.You’re doing the right thing.But if that’s true, why does it feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff?

A knock at the door makes me nearly drop my phone. “Hannah?” Frank calls. “Got a bit of a rush starting up out here.”

“Coming!” I stuff the phone back in my pocket and straighten my apron. Time to put on my game face again. Time to be normal, capable Hannah who definitely isn’t terrified that her abusive husband might find a way to stop her from divorcing him.

The rest of my shift passes in a blur of ice cream scoops and forced smiles. I mainly stay in the front making ice cream sundaes and milkshakes. Frank works the grill, while a high school senior named Ashley who came in after school makes pizzas. By the end of the dinner rush, my feet ache and my shoulder throbs from repetitive scooping motions, but it’s a good kind of pain. An honest pain, earned through actual work instead of an undeserving fist.

“Good first day,” Frank says as I hang up my apron. “Same time tomorrow?”

I nod, throat tight with gratitude. “Thank you, Frank. For everything.”

He waves off my thanks. “I’m happy you’re back. You always were one of my favorite employees. And the customers love you. You’ll have to bring that son of yours by so I can meet him.”

Cameron. My heart both lifts and twists at the thought of my son. He’s been so strong through all of this, but I know he’s struggling. The move, the weight of everything that happened... It’s too much for any twelve-year-old to handle.

My phone buzzes again. Speaking of Cameron.

Cam

Mom when will you be home??

The stove still doesn’t work and I’m STARVING

Despite everything, a small smile tugs at my lips.

Hannah

On my way home soon. Pizza okay?

Cam

YES

My smile widens. Some things never change. This kid could eat pizza for every meal.

Hannah

I got you covered.

I turn back toward the counter, where Frank is already cutting a fresh pepperoni and boxing it up.

“Extra cheese,” he says with a wink. He must have started it before I even said goodbye. “On the house.”

Tears prick at my eyes. “Frank.”

“Go on now.” He hands me the box and waves me away. “Before it gets cold.”

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