Page 87 of Truck Hard

He nods, face screwed up in concentration. Garret, on the mound, throws a gentle pitch right down the middle.

The crack of the bat meeting the ball echoes across the field. The ball sails over Warren’s head, dropping into left field. Cam stands frozen for a moment, then takes off running at my shout.

“Go, go, go!”

He rounds first base at full speed, pure joy radiating from every movement. Warren retrieves the ball, but deliberately takes his time throwing it in. Cam slides into second in a cloud of dust, popping up with the biggest grin I’ve ever seen.

“Safe!” Mac calls dramatically.

Cheers erupt from the porch, where Hannah stands with Grams and my other sisters-in-law or hopefully soon-to-be. The sound seems to energize Cam even more.

The game continues, less about keeping score than about teaching and having fun. My brothers take turns pitching, each offering tips and encouragement. Cam soaks it all in, his natural athletic ability shining through more with each play.

When he makes his first diving catch in right field, I think my heart might burst with pride. He comes up covered in grass stains, ball clutched triumphantly in his glove.

“Did you see that?” He shouts. “Dad! Mom! Did you see?”

“We saw, buddy!” I call back, voice thick with emotion. “Great catch!”

Hannah appears at my side, no longer holding Chrissy, and slips her hand into mine. “He’s a natural,” she says softly. “Just like you.”

The simple statement hits me hard. All these years of wondering, of missed opportunities... but here we are. A family. Together.

The game stretches on as the afternoon sun begins to lower, casting long shadows across the field. No one seems eager to stop, caught up in the pure joy of playing together. Even Christian, who usually holds himself apart, gets fully involved—showing Cam the proper grip for a curveball.

“Alright.” Grams calls eventually. “Time to wrap it up if you want dinner while it’s hot!”

A chorus of groans meets this announcement, but we all know better than to argue with Grams. Besides, the smell of her cooking has been torturing us for hours.

Cam jogs over, sweaty and dirt-stained but radiating happiness. “Can we do this again next weekend?”

“Any time you want, buddy.” I ruffle his hair, heart swelling at his easy acceptance of my touch. “You’re part of the team now.”

His smile could light up the whole county. “Really?”

“Really.” I glance at Hannah, still amazed by how perfectly she fits into this picture. “You’re family, buddy.”

The word echoes in my chest like a promise.Family. After so many years of regret and longing, we’re finally building something real. Something lasting.

As we gather equipment and head toward the house, I catch glimpses of what our future could be. Sunday dinners and baseball games. Holidays and birthdays. All the moments I missed, stretched out before us like an endless summer afternoon.

Cam races ahead to help Grams, while my brothers drift toward the house in pairs and groups. Hannah lingers beside me, her presence a steady warmth against my side.

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “For giving him this.”

I stop, turning to face her fully. The setting sun paints her in gold and shadow, beautiful enough to take my breath away. “Thank you for letting me try.”

She stretches up on tiptoe, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “I think you’re done trying,” she whispers. “I think you’ve already proven to him the man you really are.”

The words settle into my chest like sunlight, warming places I thought would stay cold forever. She’s right. After all the fear and doubt, all the years of separation, I’m finally getting it right.

I’m sure I’ve still got plenty of mistakes to make, but I’ll never make one as huge as losing Hannah again.

I’ll fight for her and my son until the day I take my last breath.

The familiar scentof Grams’s cooking fills the house—roast beef and potatoes, fresh bread, and something sweet baking in the oven. My stomach growls appreciatively. No one cooks like Grams.

I hang back as the others head upstairs to clean up, watching Hannah help Grams carry dishes to the table. She moves aroundthe kitchen with easy familiarity, like she never left. Like she belongs here.

---