Page 81 of Truck Hard

“We have all the time in the world.” Liam’s smile is gentle. “No pressure, no expectations. Just... let me be here for you. For both of you.”

The mention of Cam brings reality crashing back. “Oh God, Cam. He must be so scared after seeing all that.”

“He’s stronger than you think too.” Liam’s hand squeezes mine. “But yeah, we should check on him.”

I step back reluctantly, missing his warmth immediately. But when I try to move toward the stairs, my legs wobble traitorously.

“Whoa.” Liam steadies me with a hand on my elbow. “The EMT said you needed rest, remember? Concussion protocol.”

“I’m fine.” I protest automatically.

He raises an eyebrow with a slight crooked smirk. “Want to try that again with less bullshit?”

A startled laugh escapes me. “Okay, fine. I’m a little dizzy. But Cam—”

“Will understand if you need to sit down before you fall down.” His voice is firm but kind. “Come on, the couch is closer.”

I let him guide me to the living room, sinking gratefully onto the worn cushions. My head is starting to pound now that the adrenaline has worn off.

“I’ll get you some water and Tylenol,” Liam says. “Then I’ll check on Cam while you rest.”

“But—”

“No buts.” He crouches in front of me, expression serious. “I’m taking care of you tonight. End of discussion.”

The gentle firmness to his tone brings fresh tears to my eyes. When was the last time someone really took care of me? Put my needs first?

“Okay,” I whisper.

His smile is like sunshine breaking through clouds. “Progress already.”

He returns quickly with water and pills, watching to make sure I take them. Then he grabs the throw blanket from the back of the couch and tucks it around me with surprising tenderness.

“Rest,” he says softly. “I’ve got you.”

I want to protest again—it’s my job to check on my son, to make sure he’s okay. But my eyes are already growing heavy as exhaustion crashes over me.

The last thing I’m aware of is Liam’s lips pressing against my forehead, gentle as a prayer. Then darkness claims me, and for once, I let myself fall.

When I wake,the room is darker, shadows stretching across the floor. For a moment I’m disoriented, panic clawing at my throat as I try to remember where I am.

Then I hear voices from the kitchen—Liam and Cam, talking quietly. The familiar sounds settle me back into my skin.

I sit up carefully, wincing as my head throbs. The bruise on my cheek feels hot and tight, and my whole body aches like I’ve been hit by a truck. But my mind feels clearer, the fog of fear and confusion lifting slightly.

Fragments of memory flash through my mind—Charlie’s sudden appearance, the crack of his fist connecting with my face, Liam racing to my rescue. The aftermath in the kitchen, breaking down in his arms.

Heat floods my cheeks as I remember how completely I fell apart. Years of carefully maintained control, shattered in an instant. But oddly, I don’t feel ashamed. Something about Liam’s steady presence made vulnerability feel safe instead of weak.

The murmur of voices draws me toward the kitchen. I pause in the doorway, struck by the scene before me. Liam and Cam sit at the table, heads bent over what looks like homework. There’s an empty pizza box pushed to one side, and two glasses of milk sit half-finished between them.

The scene makes my heart clench. This is what we could have had all along, if things had been different. If I had been braver, or smarter, or stronger.

“Mom!” Cam spots me first, jumping up from his chair. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, sweetie.” I open my arms and he crashes into me, hugging tight enough to make my ribs protest. But I don’t care. I need this contact as much as he does.

“Are you sure?” He pulls back to examine my face, brow furrowed with worry. “That bruise looks really bad.”

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