Page 4 of Truck Hard

I gesture helplessly at the scattered boxes. “I saw you were struggling. Thought you could use a hand.”

“I’m fine.” She bends to gather her things, and I have to fight the urge to help. Every instinct screams at me to step forward, but I force myself to stay put. Give her space.

“About that text.” I blurt out. “It wasn’t... I didn’t mean...”

She straightens, a box clutched to her chest like a shield. “What text?”

She hasn’t seen it yet.“Nothing. Just... I accidentally sent you something meant for Ash. I was trying to track him down, he hasn’t shown up for work, and I—”

“You have my number?” There’s an edge to her voice now.

“Yes.” I admit. What’s the point in lying? “Look, Hannah—”

“Don’t.” She takes a step back. “Please, just... I can’t do this right now.”

“Do what?”

“This.” She gestures between us with her free hand. “Any of it. I know there are things we need to talk about, but I need time.Please.”

Thepleasekills me.

Hannah shouldn’t have to beg for anything, least of all from me. I want to ask her about Cameron, about my suspicions, about the gnawing guilt that’s eaten at me for thirteen years. But looking at her now, seeing the careful way she holds herself, the shadows under her eyes... She’s right. This isn’t the time.

“Okay,” I say softly. “Take all the time you need. But Hannah?”

She pauses in the act of retrieving another box. “What?”

“I’m here. Whatever you need. Whenever you’re ready.”

Something flickers in her eyes—that same something from before—but she just nods and turns away. I watch her gather the rest of her boxes, every muscle screaming at me to help, to stay, to say more. But I force myself to turn around, to walk back to the shop where Mac is probably having a meltdown over those parts.

I’m almost to the end of her driveway when her voice stops me.

“Liam?”

I turn back so fast I nearly give myself whiplash. “Yeah?”

She’s standing by her car, boxes balanced precariously again. “Thank you,” she says softly. “For stopping.”

I want to tell her I’ll always stop for her. That I was stupid when we were eighteen and broke up. That I should have stopped her thirteen years ago when she married Charlie. That I should have fought harder, been braver, beenbetter.

Instead, I just nod and watch her disappear into the house that used to feel like a second home. The house where we shared our first kiss. Where we lost our virginity to each other. Where we planned our future. Where I last saw her two nights before she married Charlie.

The same house where, if my suspicions are correct, our son was conceived.

I’m here.Whatever you need. Whenever you’re ready.

I just hope that when she is ready, she’ll still want me around. That whatever’s left between us—this spark I can still feel, this pull that’s never quite gone away—is strong enough to survive the truth.

The truth about us.

About Cameron.

About everything.

I turn back to the shop, where the real world is waiting with its unbalanced books and missing brothers and parts orders that need signing. But my mind stays with Hannah, in that house down the road, where a lifetime of secrets are waiting to either save us or destroy us completely.

Only time will tell which.

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