Page 21 of Truck Hard

My eyes burn with unexpected tears. “Charlotte, I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Then don’t.” She reaches across the counter to squeeze my hand. “Just let us help. That’s what neighbors are for, right?”

The bell jingles again as more customers enter. Charlotte steps back, but not before giving my hand one final squeeze. “Saturday?”

I nod, not trusting my voice. She beams.

“Perfect! I’ll let Garret know. And Hannah?” She pauses at the door. “It’s good to have you home.”

As she leaves, I watch her cross the street back to her salon. Through the window, I can see her laughing with a customer,completely at ease in her world. Part of me yearns for that kind of certainty, that sense of belonging somewhere.

But another part—the part that still flinches at sudden movements and wakes up gasping from nightmares—wonders if I’ll ever feel that comfortable anywhere again.

The afternoon rush keeps me busy, a steady stream of customers ordering ice cream and pizza. Each interaction gets a little easier, the smiles feeling less forced. An elderly woman tells me about her granddaughter’s ballet recital. Mr. Jenkins asks after Cam, genuine concern in his weathered face. Old Mr. Thompson leaves an extra large tip, patting my hand like my grandfather used to do.

Small kindnesses. Simple gestures that somehow mean more than all the expensive gifts Charlie ever gave me.

As the sun starts to set, casting long shadows through Frank’s front windows, I begin the closing routine. Wiping down counters, restocking napkins, counting the day’s earnings. The familiar tasks help quiet my racing thoughts, but they can’t completely silence the worry that’s become my constant companion.

I still have so much to figure out. The house feels like it’s falling apart more every day. The bathroom sink leaks worse than it did when we moved in, the back steps are rotting, and half the electrical outlets don’t work. Cam needs proper schooling, a chance at a normal life. And hovering over everything is the knowledge that Charlie could destroy it all with one phone call to his lawyers.

One day at a time, I remind myself, just like my therapist taught me during those weeks in protective custody.You can’t solve everything at once.

Chapter 5

Between Love and Fear

Liam

The phone stares up at me from my desk, the screen dark and silent. It’s been two weeks since I accidentally texted Hannah. Fourteen days of radio silence that feels like an eternity. My fingers hover over the keyboard for what must be the hundredth time today, trying to find the right words to bridge this chasm between us.

Hey, how are you settling in?

Delete.

Would love to catch up sometime.

Delete.

We need to talk about Cameron.

Delete. Delete. Delete.

“Fuck.” I drop the phone like it burns and run my hands through my hair, probably making it stand up worse than it already does. The clock on my office wall reads 2:47 PM—another afternoon wasted staring at a blank screen instead of focusing on the mountain of invoices piling up on my desk.

If I don’t get this shit done soon, I’m going to have to fire myself. I’d never let one of my brothers get away with not doing their job. I shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it either.

Through my office window, I can see Warren working on an engine, his movements precise and methodical. He’s always been the technical genius of the family, even during those years he spent away chasing bigger dreams. The thought sends a familiar pang through my chest—old resentment mixed with newer guilt.

A knock at my door startles me from my brooding. Mac pokes his head in, grease streaked across his forehead. “Yo, bro. Got a minute?”

“Sure.” I welcome the distraction, gesturing to the chair across from my desk. “What’s up?”

He drops into the seat, all barely contained energy even when sitting still. “That racing part you ordered for me came in damaged. Again.” His expression darkens. “Third time this month.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache building. “Same supplier?”

“Yeah. Look, I know they’re the cheapest option, but—”

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