Page 94 of Truck Hard

The weight of meaning in his words settles over me like a blanket. We’ve both changed—grown, suffered, learned. But this thing between us, this magnetic pull that’s always drawn us together… that hasn’t changed at all.

The truck comes to a stop in a small clearing overlooking the lake, not a soul in sight. Even after all this time, it’s untouched—like sacred ground that belongs to us.

The water stretches out before us, mirror-smooth and glinting in the afternoon sun. The willow trees still stand sentinel along the shore, their branches swaying gently in the breeze.

“Wait there.” Liam squeezes my hand before letting go. He grabs the picnic basket and disappears around the back of the truck.

I watch through the side mirror as he spreads a blanket on the grass, weighing down the corners with smooth stones from the shore. The careful attention he pays to every detail makes my heart ache. He’s always been like this—thoughtful, deliberate, caring in ways that go beyond words.

My door opens and he holds out his hand again. “My lady.”

I laugh at the formal tone, but take his hand anyway. “Such a gentleman.”

“Only for you.” He helps me down, his hands lingering on my waist a moment longer than necessary.

The picnic he’s prepared is perfect—fresh bread and cheese, fruit, and what looks suspiciously like Grams’s famous chicken salad. A bottle of white wine peeks out of the basket, already chilled.

“You went all out,” I say as we settle on the blanket.

He shrugs, but I can see the pleased flush on his cheeks. “Wanted to do this right.”

“This is perfect.” I lean back on my hands, tilting my face to the sun. “I’d forgotten how beautiful it is out here.”

“Not as beautiful as you.”

The words are soft, almost reverent. I open my eyes to find him watching me with an intensity that steals my breath.

“Liam.”

“I mean it.” He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers trail down my jaw, leaving fire in their wake. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Heat blooms in my chest, spreading outward until my whole body feels like it’s glowing. No one has ever looked at me the way Liam does—like I’m precious, like I’m worth cherishing.

We eat slowly, trading stories and memories between bites. Some are painful—the years we spent apart, the mistakes we made. But others are filled with joy—watching Cam grow, finding our way back to each other.

“How did things get so complicated?” I ask, laughing lightly to hide the tremor in my voice.

“Life.” Liam responds, his gaze earnest. “But it’s worth fighting for.”

The moment of silence between us carries the weight of years—all the battles we’ve fought, all the scars we carry. But there’s something else too, something that feels like hope.

“Do you think—” I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly vulnerable. “Do you think it can really get better?”

“Yes.” He moves closer, his eyes blazing with conviction. “As long as we choose to work toward it, yes.”

His hand comes up to cup my cheek and I lean into his touch instinctively. The tenderness in his expression makes my heart race. When he leans in, I meet him halfway.

The first brush of his lips against mine is achingly gentle—a question, an offering, a promise. I answer by pressing closer, my hands coming up to grip his shoulders.

The kiss deepens slowly, like honey dripping from a spoon. His tongue traces the seam of my lips and I open for him with a soft sigh. He tastes like wine and sunlight and possibility.

My hands slide into his hair as his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me closer until I’m practically in his lap. Every point of contact between us burns with sweet fire.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing heavily. Liam rests his forehead against mine, his eyes dark with desire.

“Hannah,” he whispers my name.

I answer by kissing him again, pouring all my longing into the contact. His hands roam my back, tracing patterns through the thin fabric of my dress.

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