Page 58 of Truck Hard

Once I feel I’m more presentable, I head toward the kitchen. “Can I help with anything?” I offer, leaning against the doorframe.

“You’ve done enough work for one day,” she says firmly. “Just relax. Dinner will be ready soon.”

As if summoned by the promise of food, Cam bounds down the stairs. “Mom! Did you ask him? Is he staying?”

Hannah laughs. “Yes, your f—” She catches herself, glancing at me with uncertainty in her eyes. “Liam’s staying for dinner.”

The almost-slip hangs between us for a moment before Cam barrels on, oblivious. “Awesome! Did I tell you about the baby goats at Uncle Chase’s farm? They’re so funny, especially when he plays guitar and sings for them!”

Just like that, the tension dissolves. I settle at the kitchen table while Cam regales me with tales of his adventures helping Chase with the animals. His enthusiasm is infectious, hands gesturing wildly as he describes how the goats dance when Chase sings to them.

“He’s really good with them,” Cam says proudly. “Says they’re better listeners than people sometimes.”

I chuckle, thinking of my brother’s peculiar way with animals. “Chase has always had a way with four-legged creatures. Sometimes I think he prefers them to two-legged ones. Except maybe Christian—those two have always been inseparable.”

“Because they’re twins?” Cam asks, leaning forward eagerly. “Mom says twins have a special connection.”

“Something like that.” I agree, catching Hannah’s soft smile as she slides a casserole dish into the oven. “Though sometimes I think they just enable each other’s crazy ideas.”

That launches Cam into another story about Chase teaching him to ride the four-wheeler around the farm. I notice Hannah tense slightly at this revelation, but she doesn’t interrupt. Progress, I think. She’s learning to let go of some of her fears, to trust that we’ll keep him safe.

The timer dings and Hannah begins setting out plates and silverware. I stand to help, our movements surprisingly coordinated in the small kitchen space. We’ve done this dance before, I realize, years ago when we were young and everything seemed possible. The muscle memory remains, even after all this time.

“Smells amazing.” I comment as she pulls the golden-brown chicken from the oven.

“It’s just a simple recipe.” She demurs, but I catch the pleased flush in her cheeks. “Grams gave it to me, actually. Said it was time I started to cook properly again.”

The mention of my grandmother makes my heart squeeze. She’s been a rock for Hannah since her return, offering quiet support and practical wisdom in equal measure. Just yesterday I overheard them discussing canning techniques while Cam helped prepare jars for this year’s green bean harvest.

We settle around the table, and for a moment I’m struck by howrightit feels—the three of us sharing a meal, Cam’s chatter filling the air, Hannah’s quiet presence beside me. This could be my future. This could beourfuture, if we’re brave enough to reach for it.

“Dad?” Cam’s voice jolts me from my thoughts. It’s the first time he’s called me that, and the word nearly knocks the air from my chest. Beside me, Hannah has gone very still. “Is it alright if I call you that? Feels more right than Liam.”

“Yeah. Of course.” I manage, trying to keep my voice steady.

He seems unaware of the impact of that single word, focused instead on loading his plate with potatoes. “Could you teach me about cars sometime? Like you taught Uncle Chase?”

“Of course,” I say past the lump in my throat. “Anytime you want, buddy.”

Hannah reaches under the table to squeeze my knee, a gesture of support or maybe understanding. When I look at her, her eyes are bright with unshed tears, but she’s smiling.

The conversation flows easier after that, ranging from Cam’s video games to Chase’s latest renovation projects at the farm. I find myself sharing stories about growing up with six brothers, making Cam laugh with tales of our misadventures.

“And then Warren actually tried to convince Grams that the chicken coop exploded on its own.” I recall, grinning at the memory. “As if she couldn’t see the remnants of his failed rocket experiment scattered everywhere.”

“Did she believe him?” Cam asks between bites.

“Not for a second. But she did make him help rebuild it, which probably taught him more about engineering than that rocket ever would have.”

Hannah shakes her head, laughing. “I remember that. Warren was covered in splinters for weeks, but he was so proud of that new coop.”

“You were there?” Cam looks between us curiously.

“I was around a lot back then,” Hannah says softly, meeting my eyes. “Your dad and I... we grew up together.”

The simple statement carries so much weight—years of shared history, joy and pain alike. I want to reach for her hand, to acknowledge everything that remains unspoken between us. Instead, I focus on my plate, giving her space to navigate this conversation with our son.

“Is that why you fell in love?” Cam asks bluntly, making us both choke on our food.

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