Page 37 of Truck Hard

His mouth is exactly as I remember—soft yet demanding. For one perfect moment, we’re those hopeful teenagers again. Young and in love, with the whole world ahead of us. Then reality crashes back, and I break away gasping.

“Liam.” My voice shakes. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” His forehead rests against mine, his breath mingling with my own. “Give me one good reason why we can’t try again.”

“Because I’m scared.” The admission costs me, but he deserves the truth. “Everything in my life is uncertain right now. I’m trying to rebuild, to make a safe home for Cam. I can’t... I can’t risk getting hurt again.”

“I would never hurt you.” The conviction in his voice makes me ache.

“Not intentionally.” I step back, needing distance to think clearly. “But you did before. Even with the best intentions.”

He doesn’t try to deny it. Just watches me with those dark eyes that see too much. “What do you need, Hannah? Tell me what you need from me, and I’ll do it.”

The answer comes surprisingly easy. “Time. To figure out who I am without Charlie. To get over this fear I constantly live with.”

“Okay.” He nods slowly. “I can give you that. But I’m not going anywhere, Hannah. I’ll be here, whenever you’re ready.”

“I know.” And I do know, with a certainty that terrifies me. Liam Mutter has always been my north star, even when I tried to navigate away from him.

He picks up his wrench and turns back to the sink. “Let me at least fix this leak. Then I’ll go.”

I watch him work, memorizing the strong lines of his back, the careful precision of his movements. Some things never change. He’s still the boy—or rather man, he’s all man now—who could fix anything broken. Except us.

But maybe... maybe some things that break can be rebuilt stronger.

The thought follows me as I return to scrubbing cabinets, stealing glances at him while he works—that kiss still burning on my lips. We move around each other in the small kitchen, an awkward dance of avoiding touch while being hyper aware of each other’s presence.

Finally, he straightens, wiping his hands on a rag. “That should do it. No more leak.”

“Thank you.” I mean it for more than just the sink.

He packs up his tools slowly, like he’s waiting for me to change my mind. To ask him to stay. Part of me wants to. “I’ll come back another day to tackle other projects. If you make a list, I’ll get it done. Would you allow me to do that?”

“You don’t have to,” I say, though the offer is tempting.

“I want to.” Liam replies, his eyes sincere. “This place... it means something to both of us. Let me help make it a home again. For you and—” He pauses and looks upward, toward Cam’s bedroom. “And for him.”

I hesitate, looking around at the worn cabinets and peeling paint. The house needs more work than I can manage alone. And deep down, a part of me wants him here, helping. It feels like old times when he used to fix things for me without asking.

“Alright,” I finally agree, my voice soft. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” He smiles, a small but genuine curve of his lips that makes my heart skip a beat.

“What else needs fixing?” he asks, glancing around the room.

I sigh, thinking of the long list I’ve been too overwhelmed to start on. “The roof has a leak, the windows are drafty, and the plumbing in the bathroom is... questionable, the stairs creak, the porch steps are rotting.”

“Got it,” he says with a nod. “I’ll start with the roof and work my way down.”

“Liam,” I say, catching his arm before he can leave. “Thank you.”

He looks at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “You don’t have to thank me, Hannah. This is what family does.”

Family. The word lingers in the air between us, heavy with meaning. Maybe we can rebuild more than just this house.

As he heads out of the kitchen, I feel a flicker of hope amidst the uncertainty. Maybe this is the beginning of something new—something better—for both of us.

At the door, he pauses. “Hannah?”

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