5. Between Love and Fear
Chapter 5
Between Love and Fear
Liam
T he phone stares up at me from my desk, the screen dark and silent. It’s been two weeks since I accidentally texted Hannah. Fourteen days of radio silence that feels like an eternity. My fingers hover over the keyboard for what must be the hundredth time today, trying to find the right words to bridge this chasm between us.
Hey, how are you settling in?
Delete.
Would love to catch up sometime.
Delete.
We need to talk about Cameron.
Delete. Delete. Delete.
“Fuck.” I drop the phone like it burns and run my hands through my hair, probably making it stand up worse than it already does. The clock on my office wall reads 2:47 PM—another afternoon wasted staring at a blank screen instead of focusing on the mountain of invoices piling up on my desk.
If I don’t get this shit done soon, I’m going to have to fire myself. I’d never let one of my brothers get away with not doing their job. I shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it either.
Through my office window, I can see Warren working on an engine, his movements precise and methodical. He’s always been the technical genius of the family, even during those years he spent away chasing bigger dreams. The thought sends a familiar pang through my chest—old resentment mixed with newer guilt.
A knock at my door startles me from my brooding. Mac pokes his head in, grease streaked across his forehead. “Yo, bro. Got a minute?”
“Sure.” I welcome the distraction, gesturing to the chair across from my desk. “What’s up?”
He drops into the seat, all barely contained energy even when sitting still. “That racing part you ordered for me came in damaged. Again.” His expression darkens. “Third time this month.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache building. “Same supplier?”
“Yeah. Look, I know they’re the cheapest option, but—”
“But we can’t keep eating the cost of replacements.” I finish for him. “I’ll make some calls, see if I can find someone more reliable.”
Mac nods, but doesn’t move to leave. He’s fidgeting with the zipper of his coveralls, a tell-tale sign he has more on his mind.
“What else?” I stare at my youngest brother.
He hesitates, which is so unlike him it immediately puts me on edge. Mac’s never been one to hold back his thoughts. “It’s just... are you okay? You’ve been kind of...” He waves his hand vaguely. “Distracted lately. You never let shit get this far behind.”
Am I that obvious?
“I’m fine.” The words come out sharper than intended. “Just busy with paperwork.”
Mac’s eyebrows shoot up, clearly not buying it. “Right. Because you always spend hours staring at your phone when you’re doing paperwork.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “Don’t you have work to do?”
“Actually, no.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Finished my last job ten minutes ago. Which you’d know if you weren’t so busy not texting Hannah.”
Busted.
I close my eyes and sigh. “Mac—”
“Look, we’re all thinking it.” He cuts me off. “You’ve been walking around like a zombie since she came back. Just talk to her already.”
“It’s not that simple.” I stand up, needing to move, to dispel some of this restless energy that’s been building for days. “She needs space. Time to sort things out with the divorce and—”
“Bullshit.” Mac’s voice is uncharacteristically serious. “You’re scared.”
The accusation stops me in my tracks. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” He meets my glare without flinching. “The great Liam Mutter—my big brother, who’s never backed down from a fight in his life—is scared of talking to a woman he’s known practically since birth.”
“You don’t understand—”
“No, you don’t understand.” Mac stands too, his usual easy going demeanor replaced by something fiercer. I’m caught off guard seeing my devil-may-care brother taking charge of a situation. “That woman has been through hell. Her piece of shit husband beat her so bad she nearly died. And now she’s back home, trying to rebuild her life, and you’re what? Hiding in your office playing phone games?”
Each word lands like a punch to the gut. Because he’s right—of course he’s right. I am scared. Terrified of facing the consequences of choices I made thirteen years ago. Choices that led Hannah straight into Charlie’s arms.
“You’re right.” I admit, not bother to argue. He’s telling me the thing everyone else has told me, but for some reason it hurts differently coming from my baby brother.
Mac’s expression softens slightly. “I am?”
“Yeah.” I sink back into my chair, suddenly exhausted. “I feel like everything I do is wrong. I don’t know what the right thing is anymore.”
Mac studies me for a long moment, then nods like he’s come to some decision. “Well, I do.” He heads for the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. “The right thing is whatever gets you off your ass and actually doing something instead of just thinking about it.”
The door closes behind him with a definitive click, leaving me alone with thoughts I’ve been trying to avoid for days. Every time I close my eyes, I see Hannah begging me not to give up on us. I love you , she’d said. Isn’t that enough?
It should have been. God, it should have been more than enough.
My phone buzzes, making me jump. For a heart-stopping moment I think it might be Hannah, but it’s just a text from Grams asking if I’ll run to the store after work to pick up some milk. I type back a quick affirmative, then find myself scrolling through my previous messages.
The last text I sent Hannah stares back at me, mocking in its accidental cruelty
Liam
Hey asshole, where the fuck are you?
I groan, dropping my head into my hands. What must she think of me? That I’m still the same immature kid who pushed her away? That I haven’t spent every day since then regretting it?
The sound of a motorcycle engine revving draws my attention back to the window. Warren’s still out there, now helping Christian with some complicated-looking repair job. They work in perfect sync despite their different styles—Warren methodical and precise, Christian more intuitive and experimental.
Watching them, I’m struck by a memory. Warren at eighteen, standing in this same garage, telling me he was leaving for college. I’d been so angry, so convinced he was abandoning the family just when we needed him most. The business was struggling and on the verge of closing. I needed him to help work the shop. My other brothers were still in school and couldn’t work full-time. It was just me and Warren at the time.
When he left, it was just me.
The things I’d said that day... God, what I wouldn’t do to take them back.
My chair scrapes against the floor as I stand abruptly. This at least is something I can fix. One small step toward being the man I should have been all along.
The afternoon sun is brutal as I step out of my air-conditioned office. The scent of motor oil and hot metal fills my lungs—familiar smells that usually comfort me, but today just remind me of everything I’ve been trying to hold onto. Everything I’ve been afraid to let go of.
Warren looks up as I approach, wiping his hands on a rag. “Need something?”
“Got a minute?” I gesture toward the back of the shop where we keep the drink cooler. “Want to talk to you about something.”
He exchanges a look with Christian, who shrugs and goes back to work on the bike. Warren follows me to the cooler, acceptance tinged with wariness in his posture. When was the last time we had a real conversation, just the two of us?
I grab two bottles of water, tossing one to him. He catches it easily, but doesn’t open it. He just watches me with those analytical eyes that always seem to see right through bullshit.
“So.” He breaks the silence first. “What’s on your mind?”
I take a long drink, buying time to organize my thoughts. The water is ice cold, shocking my system into alertness. “Been thinking about when you left for college.”
His expression closes off slightly. “Ancient history.”
“Maybe.” I set my bottle down on top of the cooler. “Or maybe it’s about time I apologized for being such an ass about it.”
That gets his attention. Warren’s eyebrows shoot up, genuine surprise crossing his features before he schools them back to neutral. “You don’t have to—”
“Yeah, I do.” I cut him off. “I was wrong. Calling you selfish for wanting something different than what this family had planned for us. You weren’t abandoning the family, you were following your dreams. I should have supported that instead of making you feel guilty about it.”
Warren is silent for a long moment, studying the condensation dripping down his water bottle. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter than usual. “We were both young and stupid back then. Said things we didn’t mean.”
“Still.” I lean against the cooler, feeling the cold seep through my shirt. “I was the older brother. Should have known better.”
A ghost of a smile tugs at his lips. “You’ve always taken that ‘older brother’ thing too seriously, you know that?”
“Someone had to.” The words come out more defensive than intended.
“Did you?” Warren’s gaze is sharp now, assessing. “Or did you just convince yourself of that because it was easier than admitting you were scared too?”
The question hits too close to home, echoing Mac’s earlier accusations. Have I been hiding behind responsibility and family obligation all this time? Using it as an excuse to avoid taking real risks?
“Maybe.” I admit. “Probably. I don’t know anymore.”
Warren nods like this confirms something for him. “You’re thinking about Hannah.”
It’s not a question. Am I really that transparent? “That obvious, huh?”
“You get this look on your face whenever someone mentions her.” He takes a drink of his water. “Same look you had back in high school when you thought no one was watching.”
I rub the back of my neck and look away. “I didn’t—”
“Please.” Warren cuts me off with a snort. “You were about as subtle as a hammer to the head. Everyone knew you were crazy about her. Still are, from what I can see.”
The truth of his words settles in my chest like a physical weight. Because he’s right—of course he’s right. Thirteen years, countless distractions, and not a single day has gone by that I haven’t thought about her. Wondered what might have been if I’d been brave enough to fight for what we had.
“Doesn’t matter now.” I push off the cooler, suddenly restless. “I can’t change the past.”
“But you can direct the future.”
My heart pounds against my ribs. Can I direct the future? Does Hannah even want me in her future? Or Cam’s future? So many questions and too much fear holding me back.
“Hey.” Warren’s voice pulls me from my spiraling thoughts. “Whatever you’re thinking right now? Stop it.”
“It’s not that easy to do.”
“It never is.” He sets his water bottle down with more force than necessary. “But you know what else isn’t easy? Watching your brother—the strongest man I’ve ever known—tear himself apart over something he can’t change instead of dealing with what’s right in front of him.”
The words sting, but there’s no real heat behind them. Just the kind of brutal honesty Warren’s always been known for.
“I don’t know how to fix this.” I admit.
“So you’re just going to what? Hide in your office forever?”
“No, I—” But what am I going to do? Keep drafting texts I’ll never send? Keep watching from a distance as she rebuilds her life without me? Listen to every person who cares about me tell me the same thing but still do nothing?
Warren sighs, running a hand through his hair in a gesture so similar to my own it’s almost funny. “Look, I get it. You’re scared of messing things up worse than they already are. But Liam?” He waits until I meet his eyes. “You can’t protect people by staying away from them. Sometimes the best thing you can do is just... be there. Let them know they’re not alone.”
The wisdom in his words strikes me hard. Because isn’t that exactly what I’ve been doing? Trying to protect Hannah by keeping my distance, when what she might need most is just knowing someone’s in her corner?
“When did you get so smart?” I ask, only half joking.
A shadow crosses Warren’s face, something dark and haunted that I’ve noticed more and more since he came back home. “Let’s just say I learned some things while I was away.”
I want to ask what happened during those years he was gone. What put that look in his eyes that wasn’t there before. But I know he’s not ready to talk about it yet. Maybe this is part of being a better brother—learning when to push and when to wait.
“Thanks,” I say instead. “For the talk. And for...” I gesture vaguely between us. “You know.”
He nods, understanding what I can’t quite put into words. “Any time.” He starts to head back to work, then pauses. “Oh, and Liam?”
“Yeah?”
“When you do finally talk to Hannah? Try not to lead with ‘hey asshole’ this time.”
The startled laugh that bursts out of me feels like the first real one in days. Warren grins, then turns back to where Christian is waiting with the engine.
I watch him go, feeling lighter somehow. One small step toward fixing old mistakes. One piece of the past put right.
Now I just have to figure out how to face the biggest mistake of all.
My phone weighs heavy in my pocket, still silent. Still waiting for me to find the courage to reach out properly. To stop hiding behind excuses and fear and just... be there. Like Warren said.
The afternoon sun slants through the garage windows, painting everything in warm golden light. In a few hours, I’ll head home for dinner with Grams. Tomorrow, I’ll have to face another day of running the shop, managing my brothers, and keeping everything moving forward.
But maybe tomorrow will also be the day I finally stop running from the past. Maybe tomorrow I’ll find the right words to say to Hannah. To tell her everything I should have said thirteen years ago.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll be brave enough to face whatever comes next.
For now, though, I have work to do. Cars to fix, papers to file, a family business to keep afloat.
One step at a time. One day at a time.
Because that’s all I can control.
The morning sun glints off Frank’s weathered storefront as I park my truck across the street. My hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles white with tension. Through the large windows, I can see Hannah moving behind the counter, her brown hair catching the light as she serves customers with practiced efficiency.
What the hell am I doing here?
The question echoes in my mind, but I already know the answer. I can’t avoid this any longer. It’s time I be the man she needs, and the only way to do that is to be present.
The memory of our last interaction—her retreating form, the fear in her eyes when I showed up unannounced at her house—has me taking an entirely different approach. Rather than showing up unannounced at her house, I thought work would be a better option. At least while at work she expects people to come in.
A group of teenagers exits Frank’s, laughing and clutching ice cream cones. The sound startles me from my thoughts, reminding me that I can’t sit here forever. Either I go in, or I leave. Simple as that.
Except nothing about Hannah has ever been simple.
I release my death grip on the steering wheel and check my reflection in the rearview mirror. Dark circles rim my eyes, a testament to another sleepless night spent thinking about her and Cameron. About the mess I’ve made of everything. My hair needs a trim, and there’s engine grease under my fingernails that won’t quite scrub away.
Christ, I look like shit.
But it doesn’t matter. I didn’t come here to win any beauty contests. I came because... because what? To apologize again? To try to explain myself? To beg for a chance to be part of her life—part of Cameron’s life?
The bell above Frank’s door chimes as another customer enters. Through the window, I watch Hannah smile and reach for an ice cream scoop. Her movements are graceful, practiced, like she’s been doing this job her whole life instead of just a few weeks. But there’s tension in her shoulders, a wariness in the way she holds herself, like she’s expecting a blow that could come from any direction.
That wariness is my fault. Mine and Charlie’s. We broke her trust in different ways, but we broke it all the same.
Fuck it.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m out of the truck and crossing the street. The spring air hits me with the scent of fresh-cut grass and hot pavement, stirring memories of other spring days. Days when Hannah and I were young and stupid and thought love could conquer anything.
The bell announces my entrance with cheerful indifference to the way my heart pounds against my ribs. The interior is cool and dark after the bright sunshine outside, filled with the sweet smell of ice cream and the savory aroma of pizza. For a moment, I’m seventeen again, slouched at a picnic table or in the bed of my truck with my brothers while Hannah works the counter, sneaking glances at me when she thinks I’m not looking.
But we’re not seventeen anymore. And the woman behind the counter isn’t the same girl who used to write me love notes in purple ink and dream about our future together.
She looks up at the sound of the bell, and our eyes meet across the space between us. Something flickers in her expression—recognition, surprise, maybe fear—before her professional mask slides back into place. But she can’t hide the way her hands tremble slightly as she sets down the ice cream scoop.
“Welcome to Frank’s,” she says, her voice steady despite the tension I can see in her jaw. “What can I get you?”
Like I’m just another customer. Like we don’t share a lifetime of history and a son she never told me about. Like my heart isn’t trying to beat its way out of my chest just being this close to her.
“Hannah.” Her name comes out rougher than I intended. I clear my throat and try again. “Can we talk?”
She glances at the elderly couple sharing a sundae, still sitting in the chairs in the corner, then back at me. “I’m working.”
“I know.” I step closer to the counter, close enough to see the faint freckles across her nose that the sun always brings out. “But this is important.”
Her fingers twist in her apron, a nervous habit she’s had since high school. “Liam, I—”
The bell chimes again as more customers enter—a mom with three kids in tow, all talking excitedly about ice cream flavors. Hannah’s relief at the interruption is almost palpable.
“I need to help them,” she says, already reaching for clean cones. “Maybe another time.”
But I can’t walk away. Not again. Not when I finally have the courage to say what needs to be said. So I step to the side, letting the family approach the counter, and wait.
Hannah serves them with efficient grace, suggesting flavors and adding extra sprinkles to the smallest girl’s cone. Her smile never wavers, but I can see the tension building in her shoulders with each passing minute that I remain.
Finally, the family takes their ice cream outside, and we’re alone again—as alone as we can be in a public place. Hannah busies herself wiping down the counter, probably hoping I’ll take the hint and leave.
I don’t.
“Hannah.” I keep my voice low, meant for her ears only. “Please. Five minutes.”
She stills, cloth frozen mid-wipe. For a long moment, she doesn’t look at me, and I think she’s going to refuse again. Then her shoulders slump slightly.
“Five minutes.” She agrees, still not meeting my eyes. “That’s all.”
Relief floods through me, followed quickly by uncertainty. Now that I have her attention, I’m not sure where to start. There’s so much to say, so many years of silence to break through.
“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, I failed 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.”
“Then let me help.” I seize on the opening. “With the house, at least. Garret mentioned you need some work done.”
“I don’t need your charity.”
“It’s not charity, Hannah.” I resist the urge to reach for her again. “It’s me trying to do one small thing right after doing so many things wrong.”
She studies me for a long moment, and I force myself to stand still under her scrutiny. To let her see whatever she needs to see in my face.
Finally, she sighs. “I have to get back to work.”
“I know.” I straighten, preparing to leave, but I can’t help adding, “Think about what I said? Please?”
She doesn’t answer, just turns away to wipe down the already clean counter. But she doesn’t tell me to stay away either, and right now, that feels like progress.
The bell chimes one last time as I step out into the spring sunshine. My truck waits across the street, but I don’t head toward it immediately. Instead, I stand there for a moment, watching through the window as Hannah serves another customer. Her smile is professional, practiced, revealing nothing of our conversation.
But I saw behind that smile today. Saw the pain and fear and anger she carries. Saw the walls she’s built to protect herself—from Charlie, from me, from the whole damn world that let her down.
Those walls won’t come down easily. Maybe they shouldn’t. Maybe she’s right to keep her distance, to protect herself and Cameron from more hurt.
But I meant what I said. I love her. I never stopped loving her, even when I was trying to convince myself otherwise. And now that I know about Cameron, now that I’ve seen the truth of what Charlie did to her...
I’m not walking away again.
The thought settles in my chest like a promise as I cross the street to my truck. Hannah might not be ready to let me in yet, but I’ll be here. Watching, waiting, proving with actions rather than words that I can be the man she needed me to be thirteen years ago.
It’s not much. But it’s a start.
As I climb into the driver’s seat, movement catches my eye. Through Frank’s window, I see Hannah watching me, an unreadable expression on her face. Our eyes meet for a brief moment before she turns away, back to her customers and her carefully constructed walls.
But she looked. And maybe that’s enough for now.
I start the engine and pull away from the curb, mind already racing with plans.
The house needs work? Fine. I’ll fix every damn thing that’s broken, even if I have to do it in the middle of the night while she sleeps.
Cameron needs a father? I’ll prove I can be that, even if I have to earn his trust one small gesture at a time.
And Hannah... Hannah needs to know she’s not alone anymore. That she never has to be alone again, if she doesn’t want to be.
I can’t change the past thirteen years. But I can damn well change everything that comes after.
The thought carries me back toward the shop, where work and responsibilities wait. But my mind stays at Frank’s, with the woman behind the counter who still holds my heart in her hands, even if she doesn’t know it.
Or maybe she does. Maybe that’s why she’s so afraid to let me close again.
Either way, I’m not giving up this time. I’ve wasted thirteen years being a coward, watching from the sidelines while Hannah suffered. No more.
This time, I’m staying. This time, I will not be the one pushing anyone away.