Page 52 of Truck Hard

A Dance with Fear

Hannah

The ice cream scoop slips from my grip, clattering against the metal counter.Focus, Hannah. I pick it up, wiping it clean before reaching for a fresh scoop of chocolate. The afternoon sun streams through Frank’s windows, casting long shadows across the floor. A line of customers stretches to the door, but my mind keeps drifting to Liam.

His face when he held Cam. The way his eyes lit up. The gentle brush of his fingers against mine when he helped clean up the kitchen. Every memory sends a shiver down my spine, equal parts longing and terror.

“Could I get sprinkles on that?” The young girl’s voice snaps me back to reality. She can’t be more than seven, all gap-toothed smiles and eager eyes.

“Of course, sweetheart.” I force a smile, reaching for the rainbow sprinkles. The familiar motions help ground me—scoop, sprinkle, serve. Simple. Safe. Nothing like the complicated mess of emotions swirling in my chest.

Through the window, I catch a glimpse of Liam’s truck passing by. My heart lurches, but he doesn’t stop. Probably running errands and heading back to the auto shop.Where heworks. Where he’s always worked. Where nothing’s changed except everything has.

The bell above the door chimes as more customers enter. I lose myself in the rhythm of serving ice cream, making sandwiches, brewing fresh coffee until the line is all but gone. The routine helps keep the anxiety at bay, but it can’t completely silence the questions that plague me.

What if I’m making a mistake? What if letting Liam back in—letting him get close to Cam—only leads to more pain? Charlie’s voice echoes in my head, years of cruel words and accusations.You’re worthless. No one else would want you. You’ll never escape me.

I shake my head, trying to dispel the memories. Charlie doesn’t control me anymore. I won’t let him.

“Hannah?” Frank’s weathered face appears in the kitchen window. “You okay? You’ve been staring at that coffee pot for five minutes.”

“Sorry.” I blink, realizing the pot has long since finished brewing. “Just... lost in thought.”

He studies me with kind eyes that remind me of my father. “Take a break if you need it. It’s slow now anyway.”

“I’m fine.” The words come automatically, a reflex born from years of hiding pain. But Frank raises an eyebrow, unconvinced.

“Sure you are. That’s why you’ve been jumping every time the door opens and watching Liam’s truck as it drives by like it holds all the answers.”

Heat creeps into my cheeks and I press my hands against them to hide the obvious blush. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only to someone who’s known you since you were knee-high to a grasshopper.” He wipes his hands on his apron. “Love’s complicated enough without adding fear to the mix.”

“I’m not—” The denial dies on my lips. What’s the point? Frank’s right. I am afraid. Terrified, actually. Of Charlie. Offailing Cam. Of letting myself feel anything for Liam beyond the careful walls I’ve built.

The afternoon crawls by in a haze of customers and coffee refills. Every time the door opens, my heart skips—hoping and dreading it might be Liam. But he doesn’t return, and I tell myself I’m relieved.Liar.

The sun begins its descent, signifying my shift is coming to an end. I’m wiping down the counter, mind already on getting home to Cam, when the bell chimes again.

“I’ll be with you—” The words die in my throat as I turn to see Charlotte standing in the doorway, flanked by Lina, Sophia, and Amelia. All of them wear matching determined expressions that make my stomach clench.

“Put down the rag.” Charlotte commands, her smile bright. “You’re coming to my house for dinner.”

“I can’t.” The refusal is automatic. “Cam’s expecting me home—”

“Already taken care of.” Lina steps forward, dark eyes twinkling. “He’s at the homestead with Grams, probably being stuffed with more cookies than any twelve-year-old should legally consume.”

“But—”

“No buts.” Sophia’s voice is gentle but firm.

“And I left the baby with Christian so we could hang out.” Amelia’s smile is warm and welcoming. “You need this, Hannah. We both do. One normal evening with friends.”

Friends. The word catches in my throat. When was the last time I had those? Charlie had made sure I was isolated, cut off from anyone who might notice the bruises or ask uncomfortable questions.

“I...” I look between their faces—Charlotte’s warmth, Lina’s quiet strength, Sophia’s determination, Amelia’s gentleencouragement. Something cracks inside my chest. “Okay. Just let me get my things.”

Their smiles are like sunshine breaking through clouds when I reemerge with my purse in hand. Charlotte links her arm through mine as we head outside. “Trust me, you won’t regret this.”

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