Page 117 of Truck Hard

“Please.” He rolls his eyes. “You’ve been like a caged tiger all morning. Either staring blankly at that computer screen or pacing. We were taking bets on when you’d snap and drive to the courthouse anyway.”

“I wouldn’t—” I start to protest, then stop because honestly? I probably would have.

Chase just grins knowingly. “So when do you see her?”

“Tonight.” I try to sound casual but fail miserably.

“Ah.” His grin widens. “Hence the dopey smile.”

“I do not have a dopey smile.”

“You really do.” Mac appears behind Chase, holding bags from Frank’s. “It’s kind of disgusting actually.”

“Don’t you two have work to do?”

“Lunch first.” Mac tosses me a wrapped sandwich. “Doctor’s orders.”

I unwrap it to find my usual—turkey on wheat with extra tomatoes. “Since when are you a doctor?”

“Since I diagnosed you with a severe case of lovesickness.” He drops into the chair opposite my desk. “Only cure is food and relentless teasing from your brothers.”

“Lucky me.” But I take a bite of the sandwich anyway, suddenly realizing I’m starving.

Chase steals my other visitor chair while Mac launches into a story about some customer who tried to convince him that duct tape was an acceptable alternative to actual car repairs. I let their familiar banter wash over me, grateful for the distraction.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of actual work now that the weight of worry has lifted somewhat. My brothers keep me busy with legitimate repairs that need my attention, and I manage to make decent progress on the monthly expenses.

Around six, I notice everyone starting to pack up for the day. Chase and Christian head out first, arguing good-naturedly about whose turn it is to pay for the beer for their weekly pool game at Posey’s. Ash follows soon after, mentioning something about meeting Clara for dinner though he seems oblivious to the way her name makes him smile.

Mac’s the last to leave, pausing in my doorway. “You good?”

I look up from shutting down my computer. “Yeah, why?”

He shrugs. “Just checking. It’s been a big day.”

Sometimes I forget how perceptive my youngest brother can be. “I’m good. Really.”

“Okay.” He hesitates. “Tell Hannah… tell her we’re all glad it worked out. And that Cam’s welcome at the track anytime. Kid’s got natural talent.”

“I will.” The pride in my chest threatens to overwhelm me. My son.My son.

Mac leaves and I finish closing up the shop, my mind already racing ahead to tonight.

I need to shower and change before heading to Hannah’s.

I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window. Chase was right—I do have a dopey smile.

But you know what? I fucking earned it.

Taking a deep breath,I grab the bouquet of wildflowers sitting on my bed— nothing fancy, just something I picked from the backyard on impulse when I walked home from the garage. Hannah always loved wildflowers more than roses anyway. Another detail I never forgot about her, even after all these years apart.

The walk to her front door feels both too long and too short. My boots sound heavy on the wooden steps of the porch. I stop in front of the door and adjust the collar on my shirt. I shouldn’t be nervous, but I am.

Before I can knock, the door swings open. Hannah stands there in jeans and a soft blue sweater, her hair loose around her shoulders the way I love it. The sight of her steals my breath for a moment, just like it always has.

“Hi,” she says softly, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

I don’t even try to resist the urge to pull her into my arms. The flowers get slightly crushed between us as I wrap her in a tight embrace, breathing in the familiar scent of her. She feels so right against me, like she was made to fit there.

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