Page 85 of Truck Hard

He races off, energy apparently inexhaustible. Hannah lingers in the doorway, watching him go with a mixture of love and something like wonder.

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “For loving him so easily.”

The simple statement causes heat to spread across my chest. I cross to her in three quick strides, unable to resist pulling herinto my arms. She comes willingly, melting against me as if she belongs there. Maybe she always has.

“Loving him is the easiest thing I’ve ever done,” I murmur into her hair. “It’s as natural as breathing.”

She shivers slightly, pressing closer. “I’m still scared sometimes,” she admits in a whisper. “That this is all a dream. That I’ll wake up and—”

“I know.” I tighten my hold, wishing I could shield her from every fear, every doubt. “But I’m here. We’re here. And we’re not going anywhere.”

A throat clearing behind us makes us jump apart. Warren stands there, looking both amused and slightly uncomfortable.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says, not sounding sorry at all, “but these baseboards aren’t going to install themselves.”

Hannah laughs, the sound brightening the whole room. “I should start dinner anyway. You boys have fun.”

She stretches up on tiptoe to kiss my cheek before slipping away. I watch her go, marveling at how naturally she moves through the house now. Like she belongs here. Like we all belong together.

“You’ve got it bad, brother,” Warren says, clapping me on the shoulder.

I don’t bother denying it. “Yeah. I really do.”

The restof the week passes in a blur of work and family moments, each day bringing us closer together. By Sunday morning, anticipation thrums through me like electricity. I wake before dawn, restless energy driving me from bed.

The homestead is quiet as I make my way downstairs, early morning light painting everything in soft grays and blues. ButI’m not the only one awake. The smell of coffee guides me to the kitchen, where I find Grams at the stove, already starting preparations for dinner.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asks without turning around.

“Too excited, I guess.” I pour myself a cup of coffee, inhaling the familiar scent. “Need any help?”

She gives me a knowing look over her shoulder. “You just focus on that baseball game you boys have been planning. Leave the cookin’ to me.”

I lean against the counter, watching her efficient movements. She’s been the backbone of this family for as long as I can remember, holding us together through every storm. Sometimes I wonder if she knows how much we all rely on her strength.

“I feel good about Hannah and Cam,” I say quietly. “Things are really coming together this time.”

Grams pauses in her work, turning to face me fully. “About time,” she says, but her eyes are soft. “That girl always belonged with you. You both just needed time to figure it out.”

“I was such an idiot back then.” The admission comes easier in the pre-dawn quiet.

“We all do dumb shit sometimes.” Grams pats my cheek, the gesture achingly familiar. “Just don’t you forget what I said about fightin’ for that girl.”

How could I forget? Her words echo in my mind often.Fight for what matters.

Before I can respond, the back door opens. Warren and Chase stumble in, clearly just finished with morning chores. Warren has been helping Chase on the farm most mornings. The peaceful moment shatters, replaced by the comfortable chaos of family.

“You’re up early.” Chase comments, heading straight for the coffee.

“Someone’s excited about baseball,” Warren mumbles and looks at me with a raised brow.

I roll my eyes, but don’t bother denying it. They know me too well.

The morning passes in a flurry of preparation. My brothers and their significant others arrive one by one, drawn by the promise of Grams’s cooking and family entertainment. Even Christian shows up with Amelia and their newborn baby girl, looking more relaxed than I’ve seen him in years.

That’s a match that shocked all of us. Almost more than news that they were having a baby. Amelia is a Koch, and until her relationship with Christian, her family has been our sworn enemies for generations.

The feud between the Mutters and the Kochs is something of a local legend. Generations ago, a Koch lost this homestead to a Mutter in a game of poker. Ever since then, the Kochs have fought to get it back and failed in every attempt.

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