Page 60 of Truck Hard

The word hangs between us, heavy with meaning. This isn’t just about tonight—it’s about tomorrow, and all the days after. It’s about trust and second chances and building something new from the ashes of the past.

“Always.” I promise, and watch hope bloom across her face like a sunrise.

She disappears upstairs to help our son find his clothes, leaving me alone in the kitchen where memories of shared laughter still linger. I lean against the counter, heart racing with anticipation.

Stay, she asked. And God help me, I never want to leave again.

I settleinto the worn couch, listening to Hannah’s soft voice drifting down from upstairs as she tucks Cam into bed. The familiar creaks of floorboards and distant murmurs paint a picture of a peace I never knew I craved.

When Hannah finally descends the stairs, she pauses at the threshold. Something flickers across her face—uncertainty mixed with determination. She wrings her hands, a habit I remember from our youth whenever she struggles to voice her thoughts.

“Come here,” I say, patting the space beside me. She moves closer, settling next to me with careful movements. I wrap my arm around her shoulders, drawing her against my side. The scent of her—just her—fills my senses.

Her breathing quickens, and I feel the tension in her muscles. Before I can ask what’s wrong, she shifts. In one fluid motion, she swings her leg over my thighs and settles in my lap. My hands automatically find her hips, steadying her.

Hannah’s eyes meet mine, dark with purpose. Her fingers thread through my hair, sending shivers down my spine. When she leans in, her lips brush mine with hesitant pressure. The kiss starts soft, questioning, but quickly deepens as years of suppressed longing surface.

I grip her waist tighter, pulling her closer as she sighs into my mouth. Her body melts against mine, fitting perfectly like she never left. Like we never lost all those years between us.

“What’s next for us?” The question comes out of her, barely above a whisper as she pulls back from the kiss. The vulnerability in her eyes makes my chest tight.

I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear and meet her nervous gaze. “Whatever you’re willing to give me.” The words come out rougher than intended, heavy with everything she’s not ready to hear me say.I love you. I never stopped loving you. I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for letting you go.

Her breath hitches as I grip her hips, tugging her closer. She sucks in a breath when my hard cock presses against her warm center. The air between us feels charged, electric with possibility. “If you want me to leave, just tell me. If you say go, I will.”

“No.” The word falls from her lips like a prayer, full of hope and hesitation. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“Then I’ll stay.” I reach up to brush my fingers across her cheek, memorizing the softness of her skin. Her eyes flutter closed at my touch, andGod, she’s so beautiful it hurts.

When she opens them again, the heat in her gaze steals my breath. She leans forward, closing the distance between us until our lips meet. The brush of her lips against mine is gentle, tentative, but then she makes a small sound in the back of her throat and everything ignites again.

My hands slide into her hair as I deepen the kiss, tasting her properly. She tastes like heaven, like coming home, and something uniquely Hannah that makes my head spin. Her fingers clutch at my shirt, pulling me closer until we’re pressed together.

The kiss turns hungry, desperate. Years of longing and regret pour into it as her tongue slides against mine. I can feel her heart racing where our chests meet, matching the frantic rhythm of my own. When she rocks her hips against me, I have to break away to catch my breath.

“Hannah.” I pant against her lips. “We should—”

“My room.” She cuts me off, already on her feet and tugging me toward the stairs. “Please.”

I follow willingly, though every step feels like torture. We have to move slowly, quietly, mindful of Cam just down the hall. The journey seems endless, but finally we’re in her bedroom and she’s shutting the door behind us with a soft click.

Moonlight spills through the window, painting everything in silver. Hannah stands before me, chest heaving, lips swollen from my kisses. She’s never looked more beautiful.

“Are you sure about this?” I have to ask, even though it kills me. “We can wait if—”

“As sure as I can be.” She steps closer, taking my hands in hers. “All I know is that right now I want this. I wantyou.”

The last of my restraint snaps. I pull her to me, capturing her mouth in another searing kiss as my hands find the hem of her shirt. She raises her arms, letting me pull it over her head. The sight of her bare skin in the moonlight makes my mouth water.

But then I see them—the scars. Thin white lines and patches of raised tissue mapping out the abuse she suffered. Rage burns in my chest, followed quickly by crushing guilt.I should have protected her. I should have been there.

Hannah tries to cross her arms over her chest, but I catch her wrists gently. “Don’t hide from me.” I press a kiss to her shoulder, right over a particularly nasty scar. “You’re beautiful. Every inch of you.”

Tears well in her eyes as I slowly kiss my way across her skin, paying special attention to each mark Charlie left. Some are old and faded, others still pink and new. I worship them all, silently promising to replace every painful memory with one of pleasure.

Her breath comes in shaky gasps as I work my way down her body. When I reach the button of her jeans, I look up for permission. She nods, and I slowly peel them down her legs along with her underwear. She steps out of them, now completely bare before me.

“Get on the bed,” I murmur, already aching to touch her properly.

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