Page 91 of Truck Hard

I push the thoughts aside. Tomorrow will bring what it brings. Tonight, I choose hope.

I stuff my hands in my pockets and continue toward home, already counting the hours until Saturday.

Behind me, Hannah’s porch light glows steady in the darkness, a beacon calling me home.

Chapter 20

A Love Worth Fighting For

Hannah

My third outfit of the morning lands in a crumpled heap on my bed, joining the growing pile of rejected clothing. Sunlight streams through my bedroom window, warming the exposed skin of my shoulders as I stand in my underwear, staring hopelessly at my open closet. The clock on my nightstand shows 10:47 AM. Just over an hour until Liam picks me up for our date.

Our first real date since we were still teenagers.

My stomach does a nervous flip at the thought. After everything we’ve been through—the years apart, Charlie’s abuse, the slow rebuilding of trust—this feels monumental. Like stepping off a cliff, hoping someone will catch me.

Liam will catch you, a small voice whispers in my head.

He’s proven that over and over these past few months. But old fears die hard, and Charlie’s shadow still lurks in the corners of my mind, ready to poison even the sweetest moments.

I run my fingers over the hangers, searching for something—anything—that feels right. The problem is, I have no idea where Liam’s taking me, just saying to be ready by noon. And like a dummy, I didn’t ask for specifics. If it were an evening date,I’d know to dress up. But an afternoon? The possibilities seem endless, and my anxiety multiplies with each outfit I consider.

The soft cotton of a green blouse catches my attention. I pull it out, holding it up to my body in the mirror. It’s pretty, casual but not too casual, with delicate embroidery around the neckline. I bought it last month with some extra tips I earned from Frank’s—my first step toward independence after Charlie.

Charlie never let me buy my own clothes. Said I had no sense of style or class, that my tastes made him look bad. The memory of his angry voice makes my hands shake, and I nearly drop the blouse.

No. I won’t let him control me anymore, not even in my thoughts. I pull the blouse over my head with determined movements. The fabric settles softly against my skin, and I smooth it down, trying to see myself through objective eyes.

The woman in the mirror looks... uncertain. The blouse works with my coloring, bringing out the green flecks in my blue eyes. But something’s not quite right. Maybe it’s too casual? Or not casual enough?

“God, what am I doing?” I mutter, tugging at the hem. “I’m not a teenager anymore. This shouldn’t be so hard.”

But it is hard. Everything feels harder now, weighted down by years of trauma and self-doubt. Charlie spent over a decade telling me I was worthless, ugly, lucky he put up with me. Even now, months after leaving him, his voice still whispers in my head, critiquing every choice.

I yank the blouse off, adding it to the reject pile. My reflection stares back at me, and I force myself to really look. The bruises from Charlie’s last attack have faded, but I can still see them in my mind—yellow-green shadows of pain mapped across my cheek. Liam sees them too, kisses each one like he could heal them with tenderness alone.

The thought of Liam’s gentleness makes my heart ache. He’s been so patient, so careful with my broken pieces. He deserves someone whole, someone who isn’t afraid of her own shadow. Not this scarred, uncertain version of me.

Stop it. I scold myself.He wants you. He’s made that clear.

A soft knock at my door interrupts my spiral of self-doubt. “Mom? You decent?”

“Just a second!” I grab my robe from the back of the door, wrapping it tightly around myself. “Okay, come in.”

Cam pokes his head in, takes one look at the chaos of discarded clothes, and bursts out laughing. “Seriously? You’re still not dressed?”

My face blooms with warmth. “I’m working on it. I just... I don’t know where he’s taking me or what to wear or—”

“Mom.” He steps fully into the room, shaking his head with exasperated fondness. “You’re overthinking this. Dad likes you for you.”

Dad. The word still sends a thrill through me every time Cam uses it. He started calling Liam that so naturally, like the title belonged to him all along. Which, of course, it did.

“I know, but—” I gesture helplessly at my closet. “I want to look nice. It’s been so long since I’ve been on a real date, and Liam...” I trail off, uncertain how to express the complexity of my feelings.

Cam surprises me by walking straight to my closet and rifling through the hangers with purpose. “Here,” he says after a moment, pulling out a pale blue sundress I’d forgotten I owned. “Wear this.”

I take the dress, running my fingers over the soft fabric. It’s simple but pretty, with a flowing skirt that hits just below my knees. I bought it years ago, before Charlie’s control got so tight, and somehow managed to keep it hidden in the back of my closet all this time.

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