Page 79 of Truck Hard

“Let me,” Liam says softly. He gently takes my trembling hands and squeezes. His touch calms me, makes me feel a little more safe. The metal chain jangles as he slides it into place and then double-checks the deadbolt, his broad shoulders blocking my view of the door. Protecting me.

My cheek throbs where Charlie hit me. The EMT said it would bruise badly, but right now the physical pain feels distant compared to the storm of emotions raging inside me. Anger. Fear. Shame. They swirl together until I can barely breathe.

I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold it all in as I stumble toward the kitchen. My safe space. The room where I’ve always felt most in control, even during the darkest days with Charlie. But now even that sanctuary feels tainted by his presence.

“Hannah.” Liam’s voice is so gentle it makes my chest ache. “You should sit down. Rest.”

“I’m fine.” The words come out sharp, defensive. I grab a glass from the cabinet with shaking hands, desperate for something to do. “I just need some water.”

But when I turn on the tap, the rushing sound triggers a flash of memory—Charlie’s rage-twisted face as he dragged me across the driveway. The glass slips from my numb fingers and shatters in the sink.

“Shit.” I quickly turn the water off and grab for the broken pieces, not thinking.

“Don’t!” Liam catches my wrist before I can cut myself. His grip is firm but careful, so different from Charlie’s bruising hands. “Let me clean it up.”

“I can do it myself!” The words burst out of me, edged with hysteria. “I’m not helpless. I’m not...”Weak. Pathetic. Worthless.Charlie’s voice whispers the familiar litany in my head.

“I know you’re not helpless.” Liam’s thumb strokes over my pulse point, grounding me in the present. “But you don’t have to do everything alone anymore. Especially not right now.”

The simple truth in his words breaks something inside me. My legs give out and I sag against the counter, a sob catching in my throat. Liam’s arms come around me instantly, pulling me against his chest. I should resist—should prove I can stand on my own—but I’m so tired of being strong.

“I couldn’t stop him,” I whisper into Liam’s shirt. “I told myself to be strong. Refused to cower to him any longer, but he... he was faster. I feel so helpless.”

“You’re not helpless,” Liam says fiercely. “You fought back. You called for help. Hell, you faced him. That takes incredible courage.”

I shake my head, tears soaking into his bloodstained shirt. “But I shouldn’t have needed help. I should have been able to handle it myself. What kind of mother am I if I can’t even protect myself, let alone my son?”

“Hey.” Liam cups my face in his hands, forcing me to meet his eyes. “You are an amazing mother. Look at Cam. He’s kind, brave, protective. That’s because of you. You kept him safe all those years with Charlie. You got him out.”

I shake my head. “No,hegotmeout. I would have died by Charlie’s hand if Cam hadn’t found a way.”

“It doesn’t matter how you got out. It only matters that you’re out now and fighting for your son.” Liam’s words are firm, yet gentle. “You’re rebuilding a life for both of you.”

“But Charlie—” My voice cracks. “He’ll never stop, Liam. He’ll keep coming back, keep trying to control us. What if next time—”

“There won’t be a next time.” The steel in Liam’s voice makes me shiver. “He’s going to jail for this. For a long time. Between violating the restraining order—twice I might add—and the assault. You heard Ricky. Even his family’s money won’t be able to buy his way out this time.”

“You don’t know that.” Years of experience with Charlie’s ability to escape consequences makes hope feel dangerous. “His parents have connections. They’ll find a way.”

“Then we’ll fight them.” Liam’s thumb brushes over my bruised cheek, feather-light. “Whatever it takes, however long it takes. I’m not letting him hurt you again.”

Part of me wants to protest that I don’t need his protection. That I’ve survived this long on my own. But the larger part—the part that remembers loving him, trusting him—just wants to believe.

“I’m scared.” I admit in a whisper. “Not just of Charlie. Of... everything. Of letting people in again. Of trusting. Of hoping things could be different.”

“I know.” Liam presses his forehead to mine, our breath mingling. “And that’s okay. Being scared doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.”

A fresh wave of tears spills over. “What’s wrong with me, Liam? Why can’t I just... move on? Be normal?”

“Nothing is wrong with you.” His voice is fierce with conviction. “You’ve been hurt, deeply and repeatedly, by someone who was supposed to love you. That leaves scars. But scars aren’t weakness—they’re proof of survival.”

I close my eyes, letting his words wash over me. Trying to believe them. “I don’t know how to do this. How to... heal. How to trust again.”

“You don’t have to figure it out all at once.” His fingers thread through my hair, gentle and soothing. “Just take it one day at a time. And let people help sometimes. Letmehelp.”

The offer settles in my chest like warm coal, frightening and comforting at once. “I’m not very good at that. Accepting help.”

“You’re better at it than you think.” There’s a hint of a smile in his voice now. “Just look at everything around this house that you’ve let me help with.”

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