Page 26 of Truck Hard

“I...” I run a hand through my hair, probably making it worse. “I’m sorry again about that text. I really did mean to send that to Ash.”

“I know.” She sets down the cloth and finally looks at me. Really looks at me, with those eyes that have always seen straight through my bullshit. “Is that what you came here to say?”

“No.” I lean against the counter, trying to find the right words. “I came because... because I can’t stop thinking about you. About Cameron.”

Her expression shutters at the mention of our son. “Liam—”

“He’s mine, isn’t he?” The question bursts out before I can stop it, louder than I intended. The elderly couple glances our way, and Hannah’s face pales.

“Not here.” She hisses. “I can’t do this here.”

“Then when?” I force myself to lower my voice, but I can’t keep the intensity out of it. “When are we going to talk about this, Hannah? Because I’ve spent thirteen years thinking about that night, about what might have happened if I’d made a different choice. And now I find out we created a son that night and you didn’t tell me.”

“You think I wanted to keep it from you?” Color floods her cheeks, anger replacing fear in her eyes. “You’re the one who pushed me away, remember? You’re the one who told me to marry Charlie, that he could give me a better life than you ever could.”

That knocks the wind out of me, all the more painful because they’re true. “I was wrong.”

“Yes, you were.” Her voice cracks slightly. “You were so wrong, Liam. About everything.”

The bell chimes again, and Hannah straightens, professional mask sliding back into place. But I can see the tremor in her hands as she serves another customer, and can hear the slight shake in her voice as she recites ice cream flavors.

I wait, watching her work, remembering all the times I’ve watched her like this in the past. At high school football games, where she cheered while I played. At community events, where she stood beside Charlie, the perfect political wife. Always watching, never reaching out, telling myself it was better this way.

What a fucking coward I’ve been.

When the customer leaves, Hannah turns back to me, but her eyes fix on a point somewhere over my shoulder. “Your five minutes are up.”

“Hannah, please.” I reach for her hand where it rests on the counter, but she pulls back before I can touch her. The motion is instinctive, defensive, and it breaks my heart to realize she’s learned to flinch from kindness.

Charlie did that to her. And I let him.

“I don’t want to make your life more difficult than it already is,” I say.

“Then don’t.” She replies before I can finish.

“I have a right to know my son.” I force myself to stand straight, to meet her eyes even though she won’t look at mine.“I’d like a chance to make things right. With you and with Cameron.”

She laughs, a sharp, bitter sound that bears no resemblance to the joyful laugh I remember. “Make things right? How exactly do you plan to do that, Liam? You can’t change the past thirteen years. You can’t undo what Charlie—” She cuts herself off, pressing her lips together like she’s trying to hold the words in.

“No, I can’t.” I admit. “But I can be here now. For both of you.”

Finally, she meets my eyes, and the pain I see there nearly brings me to my knees. “Why now? Because you feel guilty? Because you found out about Cameron? Or because you pity me, the abused wife who came crawling back to her hometown with nothing?”

“Because I love you.” The words escape before I can stop them, raw and honest in a way I haven’t let myself be in years. “I never stopped loving you, Hannah. Even when I was trying to convince myself I was doing the right thing by letting you go.”

She recoils like I’ve slapped her, color draining from her face. “Don’t. Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.”

“The truth?” Her voice rises slightly, drawing attention from the customers again. She notices and lowers it to a fierce whisper. “The truth is that you gave up on us. The truth is that you pushed me into Charlie’s arms and then for thirteen years he—” She stops, swallowing hard. “He hurt me.”

Each word is a knife to my gut, twisting deeper because I know she’s right. I convinced myself she was better off with Charlie’s money and status than with my uncertain future and family baggage. I told myself I wasn’t good enough for her, that I’d only make her life worse.

I told myself a lot of things. All of them lies.

“You’re right.” I force myself to say the words, to acknowledge the truth we’ve both been dancing around. “I failed you. In every way possible,Ifailed you. And I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for that, if you’ll let me.”

Tears fill her eyes, but she blinks them back furiously. “I can’t do this right now. I have customers to serve and a son to take care of and a house that’s falling apart. I don’t have time for—for whatever this is.”

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