Page 97 of Truck Hard

The wrench slips in my grip, clattering against the concrete floor of the garage. “Dammit,” I mutter, reaching down to retrieve it. My hands are shaking—have been all morning—making even the simplest tasks feel impossible.

The familiar sounds of the auto shop surround me—the whir of power tools, the metallic clang of equipment, the low murmur of my brothers working in their respective bays. Usually, these sounds ground me, give me purpose. Today they just add to the chaos in my head.

It’s been five days since I told Hannah I loved her. Five days of stilted conversations and careful distance. Five days of watching her walls go back up, brick by painful brick.

I close my eyes, trying to focus on the engine in front of me. I thought physical work would do me good since I can’t seem to focus on paperwork, but I was wrong. All I can see is the look on her face that day by the lake. The way she froze when I said those three words, fear flickering across her features before she shut down completely. We’d been so close to something real, something lasting. Now it feels like we’re right back where we started.

“You gonna stare at that engine all day, or actually fix it?”

Ash’s voice cuts through my brooding. I open my eyes to find him leaning against the workbench, arms crossed and wearing that shit-eating grin he gets when he thinks he’s being clever.

“Don’t you have your own work to do?” I snap, more harshly than intended.

His grin widens. “Someone’s grumpy today. Which is weird, considering you finally got the girl. Shouldn’t you be walking on sunshine or some shit?”

The wrench creaks in my grip. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” He pushes off the bench, moving closer. “Because from where I’m standing, you’ve got everything you wanted. Hannah’s back, Cam knows you’re his dad, Charlie’s locked up—”

“It’s not that simple.” The words come out through gritted teeth.

“Never is with you, big brother.” He claps me on the shoulder. “But hey, try to be more like me. Andrea and I keep things uncomplicated.”

Something in me snaps. Maybe it’s the smug way he says it, or maybe it’s just that I’m tired of watching him chase the wrong woman while Clara pines away in silence. “You don’t know the first thing about love.”

He recoils like I’ve slapped him. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means—” I catch myself, forcing back the words I really want to say.It means you’re too blind to see what’s right in front of you. It means you’re settling for easy when real love is staring you in the face every day.Instead, I wave him off. “Whatever. Forget it.”

“No, please, enlighten me.” His voice has gone hard. “Tell me how I’m doing it all wrong while you’re over here making yourself miserable.”

“I’m not—”

“You can’t fix her wounds for her, Liam.” We both turn at Warren’s quiet interjection. He’s standing in the middle of his bay, wiping his hands on a shop rag. His expression is knowing, almost sympathetic.

“I’m not trying to fix her wounds,” I say, but the words sound hollow even to my own ears. “I just want to be there for her. For both of them.” My voice cracks slightly. “I can’t lose them again.”

Warren’s eyes soften. “Then be there when she lets you. Give her space when she needs it.” He runs a hand through his hair—an understanding in his expression that makes me think there’s more he’s not saying. “She’ll come around when she’s ready.”

“Will she?” The question comes out smaller than I meant it to. “Because right now it feels like she’s slipping away and I don’t know how to stop it.”

“What happened?” Warren asks, moving fully into my workspace. “Things seemed good between you two.”

I lean heavily against the workbench, suddenly exhausted. “I told her I loved her.”

Understanding dawns on both their faces. Ash lets out a low whistle. “Ah.”

“Yeah.” I scrub a hand over my face. “She didn’t say it back.”

“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel it,” Warren says quietly.

“No, but you didn’t see her face.” The memory makes my chest ache. “She looked… terrified. Like I’d threatened her somehow. And now she’s pulling away, barely talking to me except about Cam.”

“Give her time.” Warren repeats. “She’s been through hell. Charlie used love as a weapon against her for years.”

“I know that.” Frustration wells up in my throat. “Christ, don’t you think I know that? I saw what he did to her, War.”

The image flashes through my mind. Hannah curled up, covered in blood in Christian’s arms whileherushed her to safety, notme.

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