Page 20 of Truck Hard

The bellabove Frank’s door jingles as another customer enters, pulling me from my brooding. I force a smile and straighten my apron, trying to focus on the present moment rather than the weight of everything else pressing down on me. The smell of pizza and grilled burgers fills the small space, mingling with the sweetness of ice cream. It should be comforting. Instead, it reminds me how far I’ve fallen.

From hosting charity galas to scooping ice cream.The thought comes unbidden, Charlie’s sneering voice echoing in my head. I push it away, refusing to let him have any more space in my mind than he’s already claimed.

“Two scoops of chocolate, please.” The young girl at the counter bounces on her toes, pigtails swinging. Her mother stands behind her, phone pressed to her ear, only half paying attention.

“Coming right up.” I reach for the scoop, grateful for the distraction. The familiar motions ground me—dig deep, twist, tap. The chocolate ice cream curls perfectly onto the cone. “Would you like sprinkles with that?”

The girl’s eyes light up. “Yes, please!”

As I add rainbow sprinkles, careful to cover every inch of ice cream, my mind drifts to Cameron. He used to look at sweets that way, with pure joy untainted by worry or fear. Before Charlie’s rage turned our home into a battlefield. Before we had to measure every word, every action, against the possibility of setting him off.

Stop it.I hand the cone to the girl, making sure she has a good grip before letting go.He can’t hurt us anymore.

But even as I think it, doubt gnaws at my certainty. The divorce papers have been filed, but Charlie’s reach extends far beyond prison walls. His family’s influence could make things difficult. They could challenge my custody of Cam, dig up every mistake I’ve ever made.

The bell jingles again. I look up, expecting another customer, but instead find Charlotte Weber standing in the doorway. She owns A Cut Above, the beauty salon across the street. Sunlight catches her blonde hair, making it shimmer like spun gold. She’s exactly the kind of woman I used to envy when I was younger—effortlessly beautiful, seemingly untouched by life’s harder edges.

“Hannah!” She makes her way to the counter, genuine warmth in her smile. “How are you settling in?”

The question carries more weight than its casual delivery suggests. Everyone knows why I’m back in Beaver. Everyone’s heard about Charlie, about what he did. About how my perfect life in Waverly was nothing but a carefully constructed lie.

“I’m managing.” I wipe my hands on my apron, buying time to compose myself. “Still getting used to being home again.”

Charlotte’s expression softens with understanding. And I guess she does understand. She too moved away and created a life in Chicago only to have it blow up in her face and force her to move home. “It must be strange being back.”

Strange doesn’t begin to cover it.Everything about being home feels like walking through a funhouse mirror—familiar shapes twisted into almost unrecognizable forms. The streets are the same, but the businesses have changed. Old friends have moved away, replaced by strangers who know me only as “that poor Fisher girl who married Charlie.”

“It’s different.” I settle for saying. “But good different, I think. Cam seems happier here.”

“How is he adjusting?” She leans against the counter, her presence somehow both casual and purposeful. “It must be a big change for him too.”

My throat tightens. Sweet, protective Cameron who spent so many nights standing guard outside my bedroom door after Charlie’s rages. Who learned to read the subtle shifts in Charlie’s moods better than any twelve-year-old should have to.

“He’s...” I trail off, unsure how to explain that while Cam might be safer here, he’s also more isolated than ever. “It’s complicated. He’s been homeschooled his whole life, and with work now—” The weight of everything I need to figure out threatens to overwhelm me again.

“That must be tough.” Charlotte’s voice carries no judgment, just quiet empathy. “Have you thought about enrolling him in school here?”

The idea sends a spike of anxiety through my chest. Charlie always insisted on homeschooling, claiming it was better for Cam’s education. But I knew the real reason—he couldn’t risk anyone noticing how much Cam looked like Liam. Couldn’t stand the thought of people putting together the timing and figuring out the truth.

“I’ve thought about it.” I focus on restocking the napkin dispenser, needing something to do with my hands. “But he’s never been in a traditional school setting. I worry about him falling behind or not fitting in.”

“Kids are resilient,” Charlotte says gently. “And the school here is good. Small classes, caring teachers.” She pauses, then adds, “Plus, it might be good for him to make some friends his own age.”

She’s right, of course. Cam needs more than just me. He needs a chance at a normal life, something I couldn’t give him under Charlie’s control. But the thought of sending him into that unknown territory alone makes my heart race.

“I’ll think about it.” I manage a small smile. “Right now I’m just trying to get us settled. The house needs so much work.”

“Oh! That reminds me.” Charlotte straightens, her eyes brightening. “Garret mentioned you might need some appliances?”

I blink, surprised. “How did he—”

“Small town.” She waves off my question with a laugh before I can even get it out. “Word gets around. Anyway, he has a lead on some good used stuff. Stove, washer, dryer—basics to get you started.”

The generosity of the offer catches me off guard. In Waverly, kindness always came with strings attached. Charlie’s friends’ wives would invite me to lunch, but only to gather gossip. Their husbands would offer business advice, but only to remind me of my place in their social hierarchy.

“I couldn’t possibly—” I start to protest, but Charlotte cuts me off.

“You absolutely can.” Her tone brooks no argument. “Garret’s coming by Saturday to check things out. What time works for you?”

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