Page 34 of Truck Hard

“No.” Her voice carries a knowing edge. “You couldn’t. Because that’s who you are, Liam. You’ve carried this family’s weight since you were barely more than a boy.”

The truth of her words settles heavy in my chest. I remember those early days after Mom died. Dad was lost in his grief, leaving—at that time—three boys to raise themselves while he ran and found temporary comfort in other women, creating more boys that he didn’t raise. I was the oldest. Someone had to step up.

I was only three when Mom died. Cancer. She found out she was sick when she was pregnant with Garret. Dad begged her to save her own life, to do whatever it took to survive. He said they could always make more babies. Mom was having none of that. She chose Garret’s life over her own and refused treatment. She died right after he was born.

Within months, Dad started dating Christina, Chase and Christian’s mother. He even went as far as to move her into the house. She wasn’t nice to us, jealous because she knew Dad’s heart would always belong to my mom. She left right after Chase and Christian were born. Said she couldn’t handle twins. But that was a lie. Even at five I saw it. All she wanted was Dad’s heart. And since he wasn’t giving her that, she chose drugs.

Monika, Ash’s mom, came next. She left Ash in favor of finding a better life elsewhere. She later came back, bringing with her a daughter from another relationship, Alvara. We’d taken her in and treated her just like one of us. We may not have shared blood, but she was our sister all the same. She lived with us for several years before Monika showed back up and took her away. Ash still keeps in contact with his half-sister but the rest of us haven’t seen her years.

Then there was Heidi, Mac’s mom. She stuck around the longest before she finally caught on that Dad would never love her. She stuck around until Mac was about five. Just up and left one day, forever scarring my youngest brother.

Four women, seven sons, and Dad didn’t raise any of us. Grams did that with Granddad’s help until he passed.

So, yeah. I had no choice but to step up and take care of my brothers. My family. As the oldest, it was my responsibility.

“Look at it now,” Grams continues, “a thrivin’ business that supports this entire family and then some. The best auto shop in three counties. And let’s not forget about the custom motorcycles and racing. It’s more than your Grandad everimagined possible.” Her hand finds mine, squeezing gently. “You can rest now, Liam. You’ve done enough.”

The beer bottle dangles between my fingers as I stare out into the darkness. “Am I a good man, Grams?” The question escapes before I can stop it, raw and honest in the night air. “I don’t feel like one most days. I’ve made so many mistakes.”

She laughs softly, the sound warm and just as familiar as the porch swing’s gentle creak. “We all do, boy. Making mistakes is bein’ human. It’s what we do after those mistakes that matters.”

I think of Hannah in that courtroom today, her voice steady despite the terror in her eyes as she recounted years of abuse. Abuse that might never have happened if I hadn’t pushed her away, convinced myself she’d be better off with Charlie’s money and status than my uncertain future.

“You’ve always assumed you were just like your father,” Grams says, cutting through my dark thoughts. “And you are, in many ways. Kind, caring, sensitive heart—loves hard and forever.” She sets her tea aside, turning to face me fully. “But you’ve got somethin’ your father doesn’t have. Fight. You fight. You don’t give up on those you love or from doin’ what’s right.”

Her words hit me like a slap upside the head, stirring memories of every battle I’ve fought. Keeping the shop alive. Raising my brothers. Never giving up on Christian when he turned to drugs—multiple times. Protecting this family through countless storms.

But I gave up on Hannah. Walked away when she needed me most.

“So fight,” Grams says firmly, as if reading my thoughts. Her eyes, sharp despite her age, pin me in place. “Fight for what matters. Fight forwhomatters.”

The night air suddenly feels charged with possibility. In the distance, a whip-poor-will calls, its lonely song echoing acrossthe fields. I drain the last of my beer, letting Grams’s words sink deep into my bones.

“I see the way you stare down the road, hopin’ to catch a glimpse of her.” She continues softly. “Always searchin’ for that girl you fell in love with at sixteen. That girl is still there, underneath all that pain. But she’s also somethin’ more now—stronger, fiercer.” A knowing smile touches her lips. “Like steel forged in fire.”

Like steel forged in fire.The phrase resonates through me, perfectly capturing the Hannah I saw today. Standing tall despite her fear, refusing to let Charlie break her spirit.

“And that boy.” Grams shakes her head. “I see how he is with her. So much like you at that age. Trying to carry the world on his shoulders.”

Cam. My son. The thought still hits hard enough to steal my breath every time. Twelve years of his life gone, spent watching his mother suffer while I remained oblivious. The guilt threatens to choke me.

The porch swing rocks slowly as I consider her words. Through the kitchen window, I catch glimpses of movement—Warren washing dishes, Mac slouched at the table with a beer and Sophia beside him laughing at something he said. My brothers—my responsibility for so long.

But maybe Grams is right. Maybe it’s time to fight for something else. Someone else.

“You know what your father’s real weakness was?” Grams asks, breaking into my thoughts. “Not that he loved too much, but that he was afraid to love at all after your mother died. Afraid of the pain, so he never let himself heal.” She reaches up, her palm cool against my cheek. “Don’t make the same mistake.”

The night stretches around us, full of possibility and warning. Just down the road, Hannah and Cam are trying torebuild their lives in that old house. Trying to find their way forward after everything they’ve endured.

Fight, Grams said.Fight for who matters.

I stand, the porch boards creaking under my feet. The empty beer bottle clinks as I set it aside, decision crystallizing in my mind. Tomorrow, I’ll go to Hannah’s house. Offer to help with repairs, create an opening to spend time with Cam. Take that first step toward whatever future might be possible.

“Grams?” I turn back to her, something loosening in my chest. “Thank you.”

She waves me off with a smile, but I catch the gleam of tears in her eyes. “Go. Be the man I know you are.”

After leaning down and giving her a kiss on the cheek, I leave her on the porch, her presence steady as the stars overhead. Inside, the house feels different somehow—not quite so heavy with responsibility. My brothers’ voices drift from the kitchen where they’ve dug into the cookies Grams baked today, the familiar soundtrack of our shared life.

---