12. A Dance with Fear
Chapter 12
A Dance with Fear
Hannah
T he ice cream scoop slips from my grip, clattering against the metal counter. Focus, Hannah . I pick it up, wiping it clean before reaching for a fresh scoop of chocolate. The afternoon sun streams through Frank’s windows, casting long shadows across the floor. A line of customers stretches to the door, but my mind keeps drifting to Liam.
His face when he held Cam. The way his eyes lit up. The gentle brush of his fingers against mine when he helped clean up the kitchen. Every memory sends a shiver down my spine, equal parts longing and terror.
“Could I get sprinkles on that?” The young girl’s voice snaps me back to reality. She can’t be more than seven, all gap-toothed smiles and eager eyes.
“Of course, sweetheart.” I force a smile, reaching for the rainbow sprinkles. The familiar motions help ground me—scoop, sprinkle, serve. Simple. Safe. Nothing like the complicated mess of emotions swirling in my chest.
Through the window, I catch a glimpse of Liam’s truck passing by. My heart lurches, but he doesn’t stop. Probably running errands and heading back to the auto shop. Where he works. Where he’s always worked. Where nothing’s changed except everything has.
The bell above the door chimes as more customers enter. I lose myself in the rhythm of serving ice cream, making sandwiches, brewing fresh coffee until the line is all but gone. The routine helps keep the anxiety at bay, but it can’t completely silence the questions that plague me.
What if I’m making a mistake? What if letting Liam back in—letting him get close to Cam—only leads to more pain? Charlie’s voice echoes in my head, years of cruel words and accusations. You’re worthless. No one else would want you. You’ll never escape me.
I shake my head, trying to dispel the memories. Charlie doesn’t control me anymore. I won’t let him.
“Hannah?” Frank’s weathered face appears in the kitchen window. “You okay? You’ve been staring at that coffee pot for five minutes.”
“Sorry.” I blink, realizing the pot has long since finished brewing. “Just... lost in thought.”
He studies me with kind eyes that remind me of my father. “Take a break if you need it. It’s slow now anyway.”
“I’m fine.” The words come automatically, a reflex born from years of hiding pain. But Frank raises an eyebrow, unconvinced.
“Sure you are. That’s why you’ve been jumping every time the door opens and watching Liam’s truck as it drives by like it holds all the answers.”
Heat creeps into my cheeks and I press my hands against them to hide the obvious blush. “Am I that obvious?”
“Only to someone who’s known you since you were knee-high to a grasshopper.” He wipes his hands on his apron. “Love’s complicated enough without adding fear to the mix.”
“I’m not—” The denial dies on my lips. What’s the point? Frank’s right. I am afraid. Terrified, actually. Of Charlie. Of failing Cam. Of letting myself feel anything for Liam beyond the careful walls I’ve built.
The afternoon crawls by in a haze of customers and coffee refills. Every time the door opens, my heart skips—hoping and dreading it might be Liam. But he doesn’t return, and I tell myself I’m relieved. Liar .
The sun begins its descent, signifying my shift is coming to an end. I’m wiping down the counter, mind already on getting home to Cam, when the bell chimes again.
“I’ll be with you—” The words die in my throat as I turn to see Charlotte standing in the doorway, flanked by Lina, Sophia, and Amelia. All of them wear matching determined expressions that make my stomach clench.
“Put down the rag.” Charlotte commands, her smile bright. “You’re coming to my house for dinner.”
“I can’t.” The refusal is automatic. “Cam’s expecting me home—”
“Already taken care of.” Lina steps forward, dark eyes twinkling. “He’s at the homestead with Grams, probably being stuffed with more cookies than any twelve-year-old should legally consume.”
“But—”
“No buts.” Sophia’s voice is gentle but firm.
“And I left the baby with Christian so we could hang out.” Amelia’s smile is warm and welcoming. “You need this, Hannah. We both do. One normal evening with friends.”
Friends . The word catches in my throat. When was the last time I had those? Charlie had made sure I was isolated, cut off from anyone who might notice the bruises or ask uncomfortable questions.
“I...” I look between their faces—Charlotte’s warmth, Lina’s quiet strength, Sophia’s determination, Amelia’s gentle encouragement. Something cracks inside my chest. “Okay. Just let me get my things.”
Their smiles are like sunshine breaking through clouds when I reemerge with my purse in hand. Charlotte links her arm through mine as we head outside. “Trust me, you won’t regret this.”
I head to my car, Sophia and Lina riding with me so I don’t have to drive alone. It’s a nice gesture, even if not necessary. The drive is filled with easy chatter and laughter. Sophia regales us with stories about her latest racing adventures, while Lina shares gossip about the motorcycle club that makes me blush. It feels... normal. Like I’m just another woman enjoying time with friends, not a broken thing trying to piece herself back together.
Charlotte’s house—the one she shares with Garret—comes into view as we round the corner. Even half-renovated, it’s beautiful. The setting sun gilds the exposed beams and fresh lumber, making it look like something out of a fairytale.
It’s on the edge of the homestead, further down the road and out of view from my house. I pass it often and wonder what it will look like when it’s complete.
“Ignore the mess,” Charlotte says as she leads us inside. “We’re still working on most of it, but the kitchen’s done. That was Garret’s priority—making sure I had a proper space to cook.”
The kitchen is a masterpiece of warm wood and gleaming appliances. Garret’s love for Charlotte shines in every carefully chosen detail, from the extra-large island perfect for baking to the window seat overlooking the garden.
“It’s amazing.” I run my hand along the smooth countertop, remembering my own gourmet kitchen in the house I shared with Charlie. He’d spared no expense but didn’t give me a say in any of it. Just like everything else I wanted.
“Garret did most of the work himself.” Charlotte’s voice brims with pride as she pulls ingredients from the fridge. “He’s been teaching me some basic carpentry too. Says if I’m going to live in a construction zone, I might as well learn the trade.”
“That’s...” I swallow hard, fighting back unexpected tears. “That’s really wonderful.”
Lina appears at my elbow, pressing a glass of wine into my hand. “Here. You look like you could use this.”
I take a small sip, letting the rich flavor roll across my tongue. When was the last time I drank wine? Charlie preferred whiskey, and he hated when I drank anything at all. Said it made me uppity. Made me forget my place.
“Stop that.” Amelia’s soft voice breaks through the memory. “Whatever you’re thinking about, stop. You’re safe here.”
I meet her eyes, surprised by the understanding I see there. Of course—she knows what it’s like to be hurt by someone who should have protected her. We all carry our scars. I wasn’t here when she was attacked by her brother’s best friend, but this is a small town and people love to talk.
Charlotte bustles around the kitchen, pulling out pans and spices. “Who wants to help me make enchiladas? Garret’s favorite.”
“Me!” Sophia bounces on her toes. “I need to learn to cook something besides ramen if I want to impress Mac. If I don’t, I may never get him away from Grams.”
The kitchen fills with warmth and laughter as we work. Charlotte teaches Sophia the proper way to roll tortillas while Lina and Amelia chop vegetables. I find myself at the stove, stirring sauce and letting the familiar motions soothe my racing thoughts.
“So,” Lina says casually—too casually—as she slides more onions into the pan. “How are things with Liam?”
My hand jerks, splashing sauce. “I... we’re...”
“Complicated?” Amelia offers with a knowing smile.
“Yeah.” I wipe up the spill, grateful for the excuse to avoid their eyes. “Everything’s complicated right now.”
“Because of Charlie?” Sophia asks quietly.
“Partly.” I stir the sauce harder than necessary. “But also... I don’t know how to do this. How to trust again. How to let someone in without wondering if they’ll hurt me too.”
“Oh, honey.” Charlotte abandons her tortillas to wrap an arm around my shoulders. “That’s why you have us. You don’t have to figure it out alone anymore.”
The simple kindness in her voice breaks something loose inside me. Tears spill down my cheeks before I can stop them. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Don’t you dare apologize.” Lina’s voice is fierce. “You’ve been so strong for so long. It’s okay to let go sometimes.”
They surround me in a group hug, holding me while I cry. No judgment, no platitudes, just understanding and acceptance. When was the last time anyone held me like this? Let me be vulnerable without using it against me?
Eventually, the tears slow. I wipe my eyes, embarrassed but lighter somehow. “The sauce is going to burn.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Charlotte laughs, squeezing my shoulder before returning to her tortillas. “Garret’s will eat anything I put in front of him.”
“Speaking of—” Sophia peers into the living room where Garret and his daughter Rayne are watching TV. “Should we feed them soon? Before they start gnawing on the furniture?”
“Five more minutes on the first batch.” Charlotte layers cheese over the final row of tortillas. “They’ll survive.”
The oven timer dings, filling the kitchen with the mouthwatering aroma of Mexican spices. My stomach growls, reminding me I skipped lunch again. Another habit from my time with Charlie—eating only when he allowed it.
“Alright, boys and girls!” Charlotte calls. “Dinner’s ready!”
Garret appears in the doorway, Rayne perched on his shoulders. “Smells amazing, babe.”
Charlotte cups his cheek and gives him a quick kiss. “Wash up. I made extra.”
“Down you go, monkey.” He swings Rayne to the ground, ruffling her hair. “You heard your aunt. Go wash up.”
“But—”
“No buts. Soap and water, or no enchiladas.”
She scampers off, grumbling good-naturedly. The easy affection between them makes my heart ache. This is what a family should look like. What Cam deserved all along.
“We’ll eat in here.” Charlotte shoos Garret back to the living room with two loaded plates. “Girls’ night in the kitchen.”
“Fine by me.” Garret pulls her in for another kiss. This one is a little more indecent. “I’ll go back to watching the game.”
We settle around the island, plates steaming. The first bite of enchilada explodes with flavor on my tongue. When was the last time I enjoyed food like this? Shared a meal with friends without fear?
“Oh my god.” Sophia moans around her fork. “Charlotte, I’ll really need to take more lessons from you. Mac would marry me on the spot.”
“Bold of you to assume he hasn’t already planned the wedding.” Lina smirks. “That boy’s been gone on you since day one.”
“Reminds me of someone else.” Amelia’s eyes twinkle as she looks at me. “Liam can’t take his eyes off you whenever you’re around. It’s kind of adorable.”
“He’s just...” I fumble over my words as I feel my cheeks blush. “We’re taking things slow.”
“As you should.” Charlotte nods approvingly. “But don’t let fear hold you back forever. I almost did that with Garret, and I would have missed out on the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“It’s not that simple.” I push a piece of tortilla around my plate. “Charlie... he’s still out there. Still angry. And Cam—”
“Life is one big fat complication.” Lina’s voice is gentle but firm. “Just remember that Liam would move heaven and earth to keep you both safe.”
“I know.” And I do know, that’s the thing. I’ve seen it in every gentle touch, every protective glance. The way he held Cam like he was something precious. The fierce promise in his eyes when he swore Charlie would never hurt us again.
“But?” Sophia prompts.
“But what if I’m not ready? What if I never am? What if I’m too broken to—”
“Stop right there.” Charlotte’s voice cracks like a whip. “You are not broken. Bent, maybe. Scarred, definitely. But not broken. Never broken.”
“Charlie tried to break you.” Amelia adds softly. “But he failed. You’re still here. Still fighting. Still loving Cam with everything you have. That’s not weakness, Hannah. That’s incredible strength.”
Tears blur my vision again. “I don’t feel very strong.”
“That’s why you have us.” Lina reaches across the island to squeeze my hand. “To remind you when you forget.”
The conversation shifts to lighter topics—Sophia’s latest race, Lina’s new tattoo designs, Amelia’s flower shop drama and how much fun she still has managing her mom. But their words echo in my head, mixing with memories of Liam’s touch, his smile, the way he looks at me like I’m something precious instead of something damaged.
Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m stronger than I think. Maybe letting people in—letting Liam in—isn’t a sign of weakness but of courage.
The evening winds down slowly, none of us eager to break the spell of warmth and friendship. But eventually, dishes are cleared, leftovers packed away, and hugs exchanged.
“Thank you,” I whisper as Charlotte walks me to my car, carrying a container of leftovers for Cam. “For everything.”
She pulls me into another hug. “Anytime. I mean it. You’re not alone anymore, Hannah. Remember that.”
I get in my car to head next door with their laughter still ringing in my ears, their warmth wrapped around me like a shield against the darkness. When I pull into Liam’s driveway, panic seizes my chest. I haven’t been inside his family house in what feels like forever. So many memories—both good and bad.
Maybe , I think as I put the car in park, maybe it’s time to be brave .
I kill the engine but don’t immediately get out, taking a moment to collect myself. The evening with Charlotte and the other women left me emotionally raw in the best possible way. For the first time since returning to Beaver, I feel... normal. Like maybe I could actually build a life here, find my footing again.
A tap on my window startles me. I jump before recognizing Grams’s kind face peering in at me. The familiar crinkles around her eyes deepen as she smiles, and I quickly roll down the window.
“Lost in thought?” she asks gently.
“Something like that.” I manage a small smile in return. “How was he today?”
“An absolute joy.” Her weathered hand reaches through the window to pat mine. “That boy of yours has quite the helper’s spirit. He insisted on helping me can tomatoes and bake cookies.”
The pride in her voice makes my throat tight. “He’s always loved being in the kitchen.”
“Just like someone else I know.” The words are soft but deliberate, and my heart skips.
Before I can respond, Cam bursts out the front door, practically bouncing down the porch steps. “Mom! You’re back!” He’s carrying a cloth-covered basket that I’m sure contains some of whatever they baked together.
“Ready to head home, sweetie?” I ask, grateful for the interruption.
He nods enthusiastically. “Grams taught me how to make her famous chocolate chip cookies! And we put up like a million jars of tomatoes.”
“Only twelve.” Grams corrects with a chuckle. “But he was a tremendous help.”
I finally step out of the car, pulling Grams into a tight hug. “Thank you,” I whisper. “For everything.”
She squeezes me back. “You’re family, dear. Always have been.”
The words hit me hard, and I have to blink back tears. Cam’s already settled himself in the passenger seat, carefully arranging his basket of treats.
I glance back at the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of Liam, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Shifting my gaze to Grams, I give her another smile and wave. “Well, I better get him home. Thanks again for letting him hang out with you.”
“Of course. He’s welcome anytime.”
I slide back into the driver’s seat and pull out to make the very short drive home, but I don’t make it far before I stop. Light spills from our windows, casting warm rectangles onto the darkening lawn. My hands tighten on the steering wheel as fear claws up my throat.
“Mom, it’s okay.” Cam’s voice cuts through my rising panic. “It’s just Liam. He came over to fix some stuff around the house while I helped Grams.”
My racing heart slowly begins to steady. “Liam?”
“Yeah. He’s been working on it most of the day. Said he wanted to surprise you.”
I pull into the driveway, studying the house with new eyes. Now that the initial fear has passed, I notice the pile of lumber near the porch, the toolbox visible next to the door.
The thought of him working on my house all day, trying to make it safer and more comfortable for us, stirs something deep in my chest. But it also terrifies me. Having him back in my life, even in this limited way, feels like standing on the edge of a cliff—exhilarating and dangerous all at once.
Cam’s out of the car before I’ve fully stopped, eager to show off his baking accomplishments. I follow more slowly, trying to steady my nerves. When I step inside, the house smells of fresh sawdust and... paint?
“Hey!” Cam calls out, running into the kitchen. “I baked cookies!”
“Welcome back.” Liam emerges from the kitchen, laughing at Cam’s excitement. He wipes his hands on a rag as he watches his son set down the basket and rush back out. My breath catches at the sight of him—dusty work boots, tattered t-shirt clinging to his broad shoulders, a smudge of what looks like spackle on his cheek. He looks... right , like he belongs.
Cam barely pauses long enough to say hello before disappearing upstairs, no doubt eager to immerse himself in whatever game he’s currently playing. The sound of his door closing leaves Liam and me in charged silence.
“Thought I’d get some projects done,” he says with a soft smile, though I catch the uncertainty in his eyes. “Fix the wall so you don’t have to be reminded of Charlie.”
My gaze drifts to where Charlie had cornered me, had punched holes level with my face. The damage is gone now, the wall smooth and freshly painted. But the memory lingers, a phantom ache that makes my hands tremble.
“Thanks, but I...” The words catch in my throat as emotion wells up unexpectedly. I drop my purse and the leftover enchiladas on the coffee table and look around the space. “I really appreciate this but I—”
What? I don’t know how to accept his help? How to say thank you for this act of kindness? How to explain to him just how much this means to me yet it still scares the shit out of me?
“It’s okay,” he says, his voice tentative. “I hope I didn’t overstep.”
“No.” A tear escapes my eye and I quickly wipe it away. “I am such a mess, Liam. I wish I could see beyond this darkness, but it’s suffocating me.”
I let my true feelings flow out of me. Mostly because I don’t know what else to say, but also because I need him to know how much this darkness consumes me.
He crosses the room slowly, telegraphing his movements like I’m a spooked animal. When his hand lands gently on my shoulder, I have to fight the urge to lean into his touch.
Our eyes meet, and God , I see everything in his gaze—understanding, concern, a depth of feeling that makes my chest ache.
“We’ll figure it out,” he says softly. “We’ve come this far. Just take it one step at a time.”
His gentleness breaks something in me. Before I can second-guess myself, I surge forward, cupping his cheeks, and press my lips to his. He makes a surprised sound but doesn’t pull away. Instead, his hand slides from my shoulder to cup the back of my neck, drawing me closer.
The kiss deepens, and suddenly I’m drowning in sensation. The rough scrape of his stubble against my skin, the taste of him on my tongue, the solid warmth of his body pressed against mine. It’s familiar and new all at once, awakening parts of me I thought had died under Charlie’s cruelty.
“Hannah,” he whispers my name. “I’m filthy. Probably stink.”
“Don’t care.” I pull him closer. “Just don’t stop.”
Liam backs me against the wall—not the one Charlie damaged, but the opposite one—and my body comes alive at the contrast. Where Charlie’s touch brought pain and fear, Liam’s brings heat and want. His hand slips under my shirt, callused fingers skimming my ribs, and I gasp into his mouth.
“Hannah,” he breathes against my lips. “Tell me if this is too much.”
“No.” I manage, arching into his touch. “Please, I need... I need to feel good again. Make me feel good.”
His eyes darken at my words. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, trailing kisses down my neck. “Let me show you how beautiful you are.”
His hand slides lower, dipping beneath the waistband of my jeans. I bite back a moan as his fingers find me through my underwear, already embarrassingly wet. He groans at the discovery, pressing his forehead to mine.
“Can I touch you?” he asks roughly. “Really touch you?”
“ Yes .” The word comes out desperate, needy. “Please, Liam.”
He captures my mouth in another searing kiss as his fingers slip past the barrier of my underwear. The first touch of skin on skin makes me whimper. It’s been so long since anyone touched me like this—with reverence instead of ownership, with the goal of giving pleasure rather than taking it.
His fingers explore slowly, relearning what makes me gasp and shake. When they finally slide inside me, I have to break the kiss to muffle my cry against his shoulder.
“That’s it.” He encourages, his voice rough with desire. “Let me make you feel good, sweetheart. You deserve to feel so good.”
His thumb finds my clit as his fingers curl inside me. I struggle to hold back the cry from how good this feels. My hips rock against his hand, chasing the pleasure building low in my belly. He reads my body perfectly, adjusting pressure and speed until I’m trembling on the edge.
“Liam.” I gasp, clutching at his shoulders. “I’m—”
“I know.” He kisses me hard, swallowing my moans as his fingers work me higher. “Come for me, Hannah. Let me see you fall apart.”
The command in his voice pushes me over. My orgasm crashes through me in waves, leaving me boneless and gasping against the wall. Liam’s free arm around my waist is the only thing keeping me upright as aftershocks ripple through me.
When I finally come back to myself, I find him watching me with such tenderness it makes my heart ache. He withdraws his hand slowly, pressing soft kisses to my temple, my cheek, the corner of my mouth.
“You’re incredible,” he whispers against my skin. “So fucking beautiful when you come.”
I should feel exposed, vulnerable. Instead, I feel... cherished . Safe in a way I haven’t felt in years. Tears prick at my eyes, and I bury my face in his chest to hide them.
His arms wrap around me, holding me close as I shake with emotion. He doesn’t try to fix it or make it better—just lets me feel what I need to feel, anchoring me with his presence.
Above us, the sound of Cam’s game drifts down the stairs, and reality slowly seeps back in. We’re standing in my living room, clothes disheveled, the evidence of what we just did written all over us. Heat floods my cheeks.
“I should—” I gesture vaguely upward. “Check on him.”
“Of course.” Liam steps back, giving me space. But his eyes are still dark with want, promising more to come. “I’ll finish up down here.”
I smooth my clothes with trembling hands, trying to make myself presentable. When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I pause and look back at him.
“Liam?”
He looks up from where he’s collecting his tools. “Yeah?”
“Thank you. For... everything.”
His smile is soft but heated. “Anytime, sweetheart. Anytime .”
I practically float up the stairs, my body still humming with pleasure. Through Cam’s door, I can hear him talking to someone through his headset—probably one of his long-term online friends.
Standing there, listening to my son’s laughter while the man I never stopped loving works downstairs to make our home safer, I feel something unfurl in my chest. Hope , maybe. Or the beginning of it.
For the first time since returning to Beaver, I can almost see a future stretching out before us. One where we’re not just surviving, but living . One where love doesn’t come with conditions or pain.
One where we’re finally, truly free.
The sound of Liam’s hammer from downstairs seems to echo my heartbeat—steady, strong, and full of promise. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.
One step at a time.