Page 6 of Truck Hard

He takes the paper and leaves, but I barely notice. My attention is back on my phone, on those three dots that never turned into words. On all the things left unsaid between Hannah and me.

Soon, she’d said.

I just hope “soon” comes before it’s too late.

The morning light shifts, throwing shadows across my desk. Somewhere in the shop, metal clangs against metal. Life goes on, steady as a heartbeat, reliable as an engine.

But nothing feels steady anymore. Nothing feels reliable.

Because Hannah’s back.

And everything’s about to change.

Chapter 2

Starting Over in a Small Town

Hannah

The face staring back at me in the bathroom mirror is a stranger’s. Dark circles rim my eyes, evidence of another sleepless night spent jumping at every creak and groan of this old house. My fingers trace the edge of a fading scar along my jaw—barely visible now, but the memory of how it got there still makes my stomach clench.

You’re safe now.He can’t hurt you anymore.

But the words ring hollow in the silence of my childhood bathroom. Everything here feels hollow, actually. Like someone scooped out all the warmth and joy this house once held, leaving behind only echoes and dust.

I run my hand along the bathroom counter, feeling the familiar chip in the marble where I dropped my curling iron when I was sixteen. Mom had been so upset—not about the counter, but because I’d burned my hand trying to catch the iron before it fell. She’d held my hand under cold water, tears in her eyes like I’d suffered some grievous injury instead of a minor burn.

The memory of Mom brings on a fresh wave of tears. Mom died six years ago, but sometimes it feels like yesterday. Like I could walk downstairs and find her in the kitchen, humming asshe baked cookies or fussed over dinner. Dad would be in his chair, pretending to read the newspaper while actually watching her with that look of absolute adoration that never faded, even after thirty years of marriage.

They were so in love. So happy. Everything I thought I’d have with—

No.I can’t think about that right now. Abouthim. About the way his eyes caught mine, full of questions I’m not ready to answer.

Liam Mutter. My first love. The one who got away—or rather, the one who pushed me away. He looks exactly the same, yet somehow different. Older, yes, but also... haunted. Like he’s carrying his own set of ghosts.

When he showed up at the house, my heart nearly stopped. For a terrifying moment, when I heard footsteps behind me, I thought it was Charlie.

But it wasn’t Charlie. Charlie’s in jail where he belongs. It was just Liam, trying to help with my boxes, looking at me like... like...

Like he still cares.

“Mom?” Cam’s voice breaks through my spiral of memories. “Mom, you need to see this!”

I give my reflection one last glance. The woman in the mirror straightens her shoulders and lifts her chin. Whatever else I am—broken, scared, uncertain—I’m still Cameron’s mother. And he needs me to be strong.

“Coming, honey!” I call back, forcing brightness into my voice.

The floorboards creak under my feet as I make my way downstairs. Another thing that needs fixing in this old house. The list keeps growing—leaky faucets, loose boards, drafty windows, ancient flooring, fresh pain. But it’smine. Mom andDad left it to me and Harper in their will, but Harper doesn’t want it.

Harper, my older sister, was against me moving back to Beaver. She tried to convince me to move to Kentucky to stay with her and her husband—to build a new life closer to her. But that didn’t feel right.

It felt too much like running and hiding.

It felt weak.

It felt like letting Charlie win.

And I refuse to let Charlie win.

---