Truck Hard (Mutter Brothers)

19. Building a Future

Chapter 19

Building a Future

Liam

T he whine of power tools fills the air as I carefully guide the circular saw through another section of rotted baseboard. Sawdust coats my arms and face, but I barely notice anymore. These repairs have become my daily ritual over the past couple of weeks—my way of proving to Hannah that she can count on me. That I’m here to stay.

A particularly stubborn section catches the blade, making the saw buck in my hands. I ease off the trigger, repositioning for a better angle. No rushing this. Every cut, every repair, has to be perfect. Hannah and Cam deserve nothing less.

The thought of them brings an involuntary smile to my face, even through the grime and sweat. It’s been fourteen days since Charlie’s attack, since the moment everything changed. Fourteen days of watching Hannah slowly emerge from her protective shell, like a flower reaching for sunlight after a long winter.

The bruise on her cheek has faded and is hardly noticeable anymore. My injuries have healed as well. While I’ll have scars, they’re no longer red or painful.

Hannah carries herself differently now. Straighter. Prouder. As if finally believing she deserves more than what Charlie gave her.

And Cam… my son. The words still send a thrill through me every time I think them. He’s calling me Dad without hesitation now, the name falling naturally from his lips as if he’s been saying it his whole life. Each time, it hits me like a punch to the heart—equal parts joy and grief for all the years we lost.

The saw whirs back to life as I make the final cut. The section of baseboard falls away, revealing water damage underneath from where a pipe leaked for years. Another item on the endless list of repairs this old house needs. But I don’t mind. Every splinter removed, every nail driven home, feels like healing—like building something new from the wreckage of the past.

“Need any help?”

The voice startles me. I look up to find Warren leaning against the doorframe, a knowing smirk on his face.

“Thought you were at the shop,” I say, switching off the saw.

He shrugs. “Slow day. Mac’s got it covered. Figured you could use an extra pair of hands.” His eyes scan the room, taking in the scattered tools and materials. “Unless you’re enjoying playing handyman all by yourself.”

There’s a gentle ribbing in his tone that makes me smile despite myself. My relationship with Warren has been complicated since he came back. Years of unresolved tension and hurt feelings create a wall between us that we’re only now starting to dismantle. It’s getting better, but the tension hasn’t completely vanished.

But watching him step fully into the room, already rolling up his sleeves to help, I feel a surge of gratitude. This is what brothers do. Show up when needed, no questions asked. No matter what.

“Actually,” I say, wiping sweat from my forehead, “I could use help with these baseboards. Need to get them replaced and clean up this mold.”

Warren nods, already reaching for a pry bar. “Lead the way.”

We work in companionable silence for a while, falling into an easy rhythm. It reminds me of when we were younger, before everything got complicated. Before Dad’s grief and a mountain of responsibility drove wedges between all of us.

“So,” Warren says eventually, voice carefully neutral. “Things seem to be going well with Hannah and Cam.”

I focus on measuring the next section of baseboard, buying time to organize my thoughts. “Yeah. It’s... good. Really good.”

“But?”

I glance at him, surprised by his perceptiveness. “What makes you think there’s a but?”

He snorts. “Because I know you. You’ve got that look—like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

The observation hits uncomfortably close to home. I set down my pencil with a sigh. “I just… I can’t mess this up again. Hannah, Cam—they’ve been through so much already. If I fail them—”

“You won’t.” Warren’s voice is firm. “You’re not the same kid who pushed her away thirteen years ago. And she’s not the same girl who married Charlie.”

“I know.” I run a hand through my hair, frustrated by my inability to articulate the fear gnawing at my gut. “But what if it’s not enough? What if—”

“What if you stop overthinking everything and just let yourself be happy?” Warren interrupts, fixing me with a stern look. “You’re doing the work, Liam. Being there for them. Building something real. The rest will come.”

Before I can respond, the sound of a car door slamming draws our attention. Through the window, I watch Hannah climb out of her car, Cam close behind. They’re returning from his first baseball practice—something that still fills me with a mix of pride and regret. Another milestone I should have been there for from the beginning.

But Warren’s right. I can’t change the past. All I can do is be here now, building a future one day at a time.

“Speaking of which,” Warren says with a grin though there’s sadness in his eyes. I make a mental note to ask him what that’s about. “Looks like your family’s home.”

My family . The words send a warm surge through my chest. “Yeah. They are.”

The front door opens, bringing with it the sound of laughter and excited chatter. Cam’s voice carries down the hallway, animated as he describes some play from practice.

“Dad!” he calls out. “Dad, you’ll never believe what happened!”

The excitement in his voice draws me like a magnet. I set down my tools, already moving toward the door. Warren follows, a knowing smile on his face.

Cam bursts into the room, practically vibrating with energy. His new baseball uniform is covered in dirt, evidence of diving catches and sliding into bases. But his grin could light up the whole house.

“I caught a line drive!” He exclaims. “Right out of the air! Coach says I have natural instincts!”

Pride swells in my chest. “That’s amazing, buddy! Show me how you did it.”

He immediately drops into a ready stance, mimicking the catch with obvious joy. Hannah appears in the doorway behind him, her expression soft as she watches us. Our eyes meet over Cam’s head, and the love I see there takes my breath away.

“Hey,” she says softly.

“Hey yourself.” I want to go to her, pull her close, but I force myself to focus on Cam’s enthusiastic demonstration. We’re still finding our footing, learning how to be a family. No need to rush.

“Mom says we can practice more this weekend,” Cam says, bouncing on his toes. “Will you help? Please?”

“Of course.” As if I could deny him anything. “Actually...” An idea forms, sparked by memories of endless summer afternoons with my brothers. “How would you like to learn from the whole team?”

His eyes go wide. “Really?”

I glance at Hannah, seeing approval in her slight nod. “Sunday dinner at the homestead. We can set up a makeshift field, get all your uncles involved. What do you say?”

“Yes!” Cam practically shouts. Then he pauses, uncertainty creeping into his expression. “But... What if I’m not good enough? Uncle Chase played in high school, and Uncle Mac races cars, and—”

“Hey.” I crouch down to his level, meeting his eyes. “We all have to start somewhere. We’ll all help you learn. Besides,” I add with a wink, “your old man wasn’t half bad at baseball himself back in the day.”

The worry melts from his face, replaced by that brilliant grin that looks so much like Hannah’s. “Promise?”

“Promise.” I ruffle his hair, earning a mock-indignant squawk. “Now go clean up. Warren and I need to finish these baseboards.”

He races off, energy apparently inexhaustible. Hannah lingers in the doorway, watching him go with a mixture of love and something like wonder.

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “For loving him so easily.”

The simple statement causes heat to spread across my chest. I cross to her in three quick strides, unable to resist pulling her into my arms. She comes willingly, melting against me as if she belongs there. Maybe she always has.

“Loving him is the easiest thing I’ve ever done,” I murmur into her hair. “It’s as natural as breathing.”

She shivers slightly, pressing closer. “I’m still scared sometimes,” she admits in a whisper. “That this is all a dream. That I’ll wake up and—”

“I know.” I tighten my hold, wishing I could shield her from every fear, every doubt. “But I’m here. We’re here. And we’re not going anywhere.”

A throat clearing behind us makes us jump apart. Warren stands there, looking both amused and slightly uncomfortable.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says, not sounding sorry at all, “but these baseboards aren’t going to install themselves.”

Hannah laughs, the sound brightening the whole room. “I should start dinner anyway. You boys have fun.”

She stretches up on tiptoe to kiss my cheek before slipping away. I watch her go, marveling at how naturally she moves through the house now. Like she belongs here. Like we all belong together.

“You’ve got it bad, brother,” Warren says, clapping me on the shoulder.

I don’t bother denying it. “Yeah. I really do.”

The rest of the week passes in a blur of work and family moments, each day bringing us closer together. By Sunday morning, anticipation thrums through me like electricity. I wake before dawn, restless energy driving me from bed.

The homestead is quiet as I make my way downstairs, early morning light painting everything in soft grays and blues. But I’m not the only one awake. The smell of coffee guides me to the kitchen, where I find Grams at the stove, already starting preparations for dinner.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asks without turning around.

“Too excited, I guess.” I pour myself a cup of coffee, inhaling the familiar scent. “Need any help?”

She gives me a knowing look over her shoulder. “You just focus on that baseball game you boys have been planning. Leave the cookin’ to me.”

I lean against the counter, watching her efficient movements. She’s been the backbone of this family for as long as I can remember, holding us together through every storm. Sometimes I wonder if she knows how much we all rely on her strength.

“I feel good about Hannah and Cam,” I say quietly. “Things are really coming together this time.”

Grams pauses in her work, turning to face me fully. “About time,” she says, but her eyes are soft. “That girl always belonged with you. You both just needed time to figure it out.”

“I was such an idiot back then.” The admission comes easier in the pre-dawn quiet.

“We all do dumb shit sometimes.” Grams pats my cheek, the gesture achingly familiar. “Just don’t you forget what I said about fightin’ for that girl.”

How could I forget? Her words echo in my mind often. Fight for what matters .

Before I can respond, the back door opens. Warren and Chase stumble in, clearly just finished with morning chores. Warren has been helping Chase on the farm most mornings. The peaceful moment shatters, replaced by the comfortable chaos of family.

“You’re up early.” Chase comments, heading straight for the coffee.

“Someone’s excited about baseball,” Warren mumbles and looks at me with a raised brow.

I roll my eyes, but don’t bother denying it. They know me too well.

The morning passes in a flurry of preparation. My brothers and their significant others arrive one by one, drawn by the promise of Grams’s cooking and family entertainment. Even Christian shows up with Amelia and their newborn baby girl, looking more relaxed than I’ve seen him in years.

That’s a match that shocked all of us. Almost more than news that they were having a baby. Amelia is a Koch, and until her relationship with Christian, her family has been our sworn enemies for generations.

The feud between the Mutters and the Kochs is something of a local legend. Generations ago, a Koch lost this homestead to a Mutter in a game of poker. Ever since then, the Kochs have fought to get it back and failed in every attempt.

Now that Christian and Amelia are together, joining our families forever, the feud doesn’t hold as much power over us. There’s a civility between our families that no other generation could ever find.

Grams practically shoves me aside to reach Christian and Amelia as they enter the kitchen. The sight of my stern German grandmother melting like butter at the sight of Chrissy never fails to amuse me.

“Let me see that sweet angel!” Grams demands, already holding out her arms.

Amelia laughs and passes the tiny bundle over. Chrissy is the perfect blend of her parents, with Christian’s dark hair and Amelia’s delicate features. She’s wrapped in a yellow blanket that Grams knitted herself during Amelia’s pregnancy.

“There’s my little sweetie pie,” Grams coos, her accent thickening with emotion as she cradles the baby against her chest. “The prettiest girl in all of Ohio.”

Christian watches them with naked pride on his face. It’s still startling to see my troubled brother so transformed by fatherhood. The guy who once couldn’t be trusted to show up for work sober now handles his daughter with confident tenderness.

“She’s been waiting for Grandma time all morning,” Amelia says, leaning against Christian’s side. “Barely slept a wink.”

“Savin’ all her sweetness for me, weren’t you?” Grams sways gently, pressing soft kisses to Chrissy’s forehead. “Smart girl. Already knows who sneaks the best treats.”

I can’t help but smile at the scene. Grams raised seven wild boys virtually on her own, but this little girl has captured her heart in a way none of us ever could. There’s something special about watching her hold the next addition of a new generation—proof that despite all our family’s mistakes and misadventures, we’re still growing, still moving forward.

“Don’t you dare think about takin’ her back anytime soon,” Grams warns Christian. “We have important bonding to do.”

This drags a small smile for Christian. He leans down and kisses Chrissy on the top of her head before we all head outside to finish the preparations.

By early afternoon, the back field has been transformed into a makeshift baseball diamond. Warren and Chase drag out old equipment from the barn—bases, bats, balls accumulated over years of summer games. Mac marks out the base paths while Garret and Ash argue good-naturedly about proper pitching form.

The sound of Cam’s excited laughter makes my heart leap. Hannah’s holding the back door open, and Cam practically explodes out from the house, already wearing his new baseball practice clothes.

My eyes catch on Hannah across the yard. She’s taking her turn holding Chrissy, cradling her with a natural ease that makes my throat tighten. Something shifts in my chest watching her—the woman I love holding my brother’s baby, her face soft with that expression only babies seem to bring out.

I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

She looks up, catches me staring, and smiles—a private curve of lips meant just for me. Heat rushes through me that has nothing to do with the afternoon sun. The sight of Hannah with a baby in her arms stirs something primal and possessive inside me. Something I’ve never felt before.

Would she want more children? The thought hits me with unexpected force.

We already have Cam, of course. The miracle I nearly missed. But watching her now, I can’t help imagining a little girl with Hannah’s eyes and smile. Or another boy, a little brother for Cam. A family we build together, deliberately this time.

I haven’t allowed myself to think this far ahead. We’re still finding our way back to each other, healing old wounds, building something solid. But standing here, seeing her so natural with Chrissy, I suddenly know with absolute certainty that I want this future with her—marriage, more children, everything.

Hannah whispers something to the baby, then glances up at me again. The longing in her eyes mirrors what must be plain on my face, and my heart hammers against my ribs.

God, I hope she wants more children. I hope she wants everything—with me.

“Dad!” Cam shouts, racing toward me. I shake my head and shift my attention to him. “Look what Mom got me!”

He proudly displays his new mitt—real leather, properly broken in. Hannah follows more slowly, a soft smile playing around her lips.

“Had to special order it,” she says quietly when she reaches me. “But the look on his face was worth it.”

I pull her close, careful not to squish Chrissy, and press a kiss to her temple. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

She blushes, but doesn’t pull away. Progress.

“Alright, kid.” Chase calls out. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”

Cam’s enthusiasm is infectious as we spread out across the field. I release Hannah so she can return to the back porch to watch.

My brothers fall naturally into their old positions—Chase catching, Warren at short, Christian in center field. I take first base, where I can keep an eye on everything.

“Remember what we practiced.” I call to Cam as he steps up to the plate. “Nice easy swing.”

He nods, face screwed up in concentration. Garret, on the mound, throws a gentle pitch right down the middle.

The crack of the bat meeting the ball echoes across the field. The ball sails over Warren’s head, dropping into left field. Cam stands frozen for a moment, then takes off running at my shout.

“Go, go, go!”

He rounds first base at full speed, pure joy radiating from every movement. Warren retrieves the ball, but deliberately takes his time throwing it in. Cam slides into second in a cloud of dust, popping up with the biggest grin I’ve ever seen.

“Safe!” Mac calls dramatically.

Cheers erupt from the porch, where Hannah stands with Grams and my other sisters-in-law or hopefully soon-to-be. The sound seems to energize Cam even more.

The game continues, less about keeping score than about teaching and having fun. My brothers take turns pitching, each offering tips and encouragement. Cam soaks it all in, his natural athletic ability shining through more with each play.

When he makes his first diving catch in right field, I think my heart might burst with pride. He comes up covered in grass stains, ball clutched triumphantly in his glove.

“Did you see that?” He shouts. “Dad! Mom! Did you see?”

“We saw, buddy!” I call back, voice thick with emotion. “Great catch!”

Hannah appears at my side, no longer holding Chrissy, and slips her hand into mine. “He’s a natural,” she says softly. “Just like you.”

The simple statement hits me hard. All these years of wondering, of missed opportunities... but here we are. A family. Together.

The game stretches on as the afternoon sun begins to lower, casting long shadows across the field. No one seems eager to stop, caught up in the pure joy of playing together. Even Christian, who usually holds himself apart, gets fully involved—showing Cam the proper grip for a curveball.

“Alright.” Grams calls eventually. “Time to wrap it up if you want dinner while it’s hot!”

A chorus of groans meets this announcement, but we all know better than to argue with Grams. Besides, the smell of her cooking has been torturing us for hours.

Cam jogs over, sweaty and dirt-stained but radiating happiness. “Can we do this again next weekend?”

“Any time you want, buddy.” I ruffle his hair, heart swelling at his easy acceptance of my touch. “You’re part of the team now.”

His smile could light up the whole county. “Really?”

“Really.” I glance at Hannah, still amazed by how perfectly she fits into this picture. “You’re family, buddy.”

The word echoes in my chest like a promise. Family . After so many years of regret and longing, we’re finally building something real. Something lasting.

As we gather equipment and head toward the house, I catch glimpses of what our future could be. Sunday dinners and baseball games. Holidays and birthdays. All the moments I missed, stretched out before us like an endless summer afternoon.

Cam races ahead to help Grams, while my brothers drift toward the house in pairs and groups. Hannah lingers beside me, her presence a steady warmth against my side.

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “For giving him this.”

I stop, turning to face her fully. The setting sun paints her in gold and shadow, beautiful enough to take my breath away. “Thank you for letting me try.”

She stretches up on tiptoe, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “I think you’re done trying,” she whispers. “I think you’ve already proven to him the man you really are.”

The words settle into my chest like sunlight, warming places I thought would stay cold forever. She’s right. After all the fear and doubt, all the years of separation, I’m finally getting it right.

I’m sure I’ve still got plenty of mistakes to make, but I’ll never make one as huge as losing Hannah again.

I’ll fight for her and my son until the day I take my last breath.

The familiar scent of Grams’s cooking fills the house—roast beef and potatoes, fresh bread, and something sweet baking in the oven. My stomach growls appreciatively. No one cooks like Grams.

I hang back as the others head upstairs to clean up, watching Hannah help Grams carry dishes to the table. She moves around the kitchen with easy familiarity, like she never left. Like she belongs here.

Because as far as I’m concerned, she does belong here. She always has. As the oldest son, this house goes to me. One day, I hope to share this home with Hannah too.

She catches me staring and raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t Grams tell you to wash up?”

“Yes, I did.” Grams scolds, appearing behind me with another dish. “And yet here you stand, tracking dirt on my clean floor.”

I hold up my hands in surrender. “Going, going.”

But before I can move, Hannah crosses to me and slides her arms around my waist. The simple gesture sends electricity dancing along my nerves. Something flickers in her eyes—hope warring with old fears. Before I can chase that shadow away, Grams clears her throat pointedly.

“If you two are done making eyes at each other, there’s still work to be done.” But her stern tone is belied by the smile tugging at her lips. “Liam, go wash up. Hannah, help me with these rolls before they burn.”

I steal a quick kiss before heading upstairs, savoring Hannah’s startled laugh. The sound follows me up the stairs, warming me from the inside out.

The bathroom is in chaos when I arrive, with my half brothers jostling for position at the sink. Cam stands on tiptoe trying to reach around Mac’s bulk to wash his hands.

“Move it, squirt.” Mac teases, hip-checking him.

Without missing a beat, Cam retorts. “You move it, Uncle Turtle.”

The room goes quiet for a beat before erupting in laughter. Mac’s nickname from today’s game—earned for his slow-but-steady running style. Hearing Cam use it so casually—claiming his place in our dynamic—it means everything.

“Uncle Turtle?” Mac clutches his chest in mock offense. “That’s it, you’re going down!”

He grabs Cam in a headlock, giving him a gentle noogie while Cam squirms and laughs. The others pile on, turning the small bathroom into a wrestling ring.

I watch from the doorway, chest tight with emotion. This is what Cam should have had all along—uncles who love him, family who support him, laughter instead of fear. The guilt threatens to overwhelm me, but I push it back. I can’t change the past. I can only try to make the future better.

“Alright, break it up.” I call out when the roughhousing threatens to knock over Grams’s favorite towel rack. “Food’s getting cold.”

They settle down, though not without a few more playful shoves. By the time we make it back downstairs, the table is set and loaded with food. The smell alone makes my mouth water.

Hannah and the other women are already seated, along with my father who must have come in while we were upstairs. He catches my eye and nods slightly. We’re still working on rebuilding our relationship, but moments like this help—seeing him make an effort to be present, to be part of the family again.

I take my seat between Hannah and Cam, something settling in my chest at having them both so close. This feels right. Natural. Like coming home after a long journey.

Grams says grace, her weathered hands clasped together. The familiar words wash over me, comfort and tradition wrapped in her accent.

Then the feeding frenzy begins. Dishes are passed, plates are filled, and conversation flows freely. Charlotte teases Garret about the renovation project that’s taken over their house. Christian and Chase argue about which motorcycle brand is the best. Sophia tells Mac about a potential racing sponsorship.

Through it all, Grams holds court at the head of the table, dispensing food and wisdom in equal measure. When Mac reaches for seconds before Christian has gotten firsts, she raps his knuckles with a wooden spoon.

“Manners.” She scolds. “I raised you better than that.”

“Did you though?” Warren asks innocently. “I seem to remember a certain incident with the neighbor’s chickens.”

“That was your fault!” Mac protests. “You’re the one who said they needed exercise!”

“Boys.” Grams’s voice cuts through the brewing argument. “Not at the table.”

But her eyes twinkle with barely suppressed mirth. She loves this chaos—the bickering, the teasing, the way we circle back to old stories and inside jokes.

I glance at Hannah, worried she might feel overwhelmed by the Mutter family dynamic. But she’s watching everything with a soft smile, like she’s exactly where she wants to be.

Cam, for his part, is soaking it all in. He peppers everyone with questions about their lives, their jobs, their relationships. His natural curiosity draws even my quieter brothers out of their shells.

When Ash mentions restoring an old Mustang, Cam’s eyes light up. “Can I help? I want to learn about cars!”

“Sure, kid.” Ash grins. “When I finally get it. Could always use an extra pair of hands. Even tiny ones.”

“I’m not tiny!” Cam protests. “I’m almost as tall as Mom!”

“That’s not saying much.” Warren teases, earning a dinner roll to the head from Hannah.

“Not at the dinner table.” Grams clicks her tongue. “Perhaps you need a reminder of proper etiquette.”

Hannah blushes. “Sorry, Grams.”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking to you, dear.” Grams fixes Warren with a stern look. “A gentleman never comments on a lady’s height. Or lack thereof.”

The table erupts in laughter at Warren’s chagrined expression. Even my father cracks a smile.

“Speaking of cars,” Christian says once the laughter dies down, “how’s that Chevelle coming along, Liam? Still fighting with the transmission?”

I launch into a description of the latest problem, gesturing with my fork as I explain the technical details. Most of the table’s eyes glaze over, but Cam listens with rapt attention.

“Can I see it sometime?” he asks eagerly. “Maybe help you work on it?”

My heart swells. “Of course. Anytime you want.”

“Really?” He bounces in his seat. “Mom, can I come over after school tomorrow? Please?”

Hannah hesitates, and I see the shadow of old fears cross her face. Even now, even here, Charlie’s ghost still lingers.

“I’ll pick him up after school myself.” I offer quietly. “Bring him straight to the shop. You can join us after work if you want.”

She takes a deep breath, visibly pushing back the anxiety. “Okay. But homework first, deal?”

“Deal!” Cam’s smile could power the whole town.

The conversation flows on, but I keep one eye on Hannah. She’s relaxed again, laughing at something Charlotte said, but I caught that moment of tension. The instinctive fear that still grips her when Cam is out of her sight.

I can’t blame her. Not after everything Charlie put them through. But God, I wish I could take that fear away. Wish I could guarantee their safety, their happiness, and their future.

All I can do is be here. Be steady. Show her day by day that love doesn’t have to hurt.

As if sensing my thoughts, she reaches under the table and squeezes my knee. The simple gesture sends warmth spreading through my chest.

The meal winds down slowly, plates being cleared and replaced with Grams’s famous apple pie. She made it in honor of Hannah since it was always her favorite. The conversation grows quieter, more intimate, as the food coma sets in.

Cam leans against my shoulder, eyes heavy despite his attempts to stay alert. It’s been a big day for him—all that running around, all those emotions.

Hannah notices too. “We should probably head home soon, buddy. It’s a school night.”

He starts to protest but is cut off by a massive yawn. The table chuckles.

“I’ll walk you,” I offer immediately.

She doesn’t object. We say our goodbyes, accepting hugs and leftovers from Grams. My brothers extract promises from Cam about future baseball games and car lessons.

The night air is cool when we step outside, crickets chirping in the darkness. Cam trudges ahead of us, barely awake enough to put one foot in front of the other.

I take Hannah’s hand and lace our fingers together. We walk slowly, taking our time to make the short distance to her front door.

“Thank you for today. For everything.” Hannah speaks softly.

“You don’t have to thank me.” I squeeze her hand and tug her a little closer until our arms are pressed together. “It was good having you here.”

She turns to look at me, moonlight silvering her profile. “I missed this. Your family.”

“And I missed having you here.” I grin. “Grams loved having you over too.”

That draws a quiet laugh from her. “She is pretty amazing.”

“She always loved you, you know. Even after—” I swallow hard. “Even after everything fell apart. She never stopped considering you family.”

Hannah’s hand tightens on mine. “I missed her. Missed all of this. The chaos, the laughter, the love. Charlie’s family was so different. So cold.”

Anger flares in my chest at the mention of Charlie, but I force it down. This isn’t about him. This is about us—our future, our family.

“Well, you’re stuck with us now,” I say lightly. “Mutters aren’t known for letting go once we’ve claimed someone as our own.”

“Is that right?” Her voice holds a hint of teasing. “And have you claimed me, Liam Mutter?”

The question hangs in the air between us, weighted with meaning. I pull her into my arms and cup her cheek. “I claimed you when I was sixteen,” I say softly. “Just took me a while to be worthy of it.”

Her breath catches, and I start to lean in for a kiss when we’re interrupted.

“Are you two coming?” Cam calls from the porch, the sleepiness evident in his tone.

The moment breaks, but the truth of my words lingers between us.

“Yeah, sweetie, we’re coming.” Her voice is steady despite the emotion I can see on her face. Cam leans against the door and closes his eyes. “Think you can make it inside?”

He yawns again. “Maybe. If I have to.”

I chuckle and he shifts away from the door and leans against me heavily, trust evident in every line of his body.

Hannah unlocks the door, and Cam stumbles inside toward his room, pausing only to give me a sleepy hug goodnight.

Then it’s just Hannah and me on the porch, the weight of unspoken words hanging between us.

“I should go,” I say reluctantly. “Let you get some rest.”

She nods but doesn’t move away. “Liam?”

“Yeah?”

“I...” She takes a deep breath. “Would you... maybe want to go out sometime? Just us?”

My heart leaps. “Are you asking me on a date, Hannah Baumann?” I use her maiden name, no longer acknowledging any claim Charlie once had over her.

A smile tugs at her lips. “Maybe I am. Is that okay?”

I step closer, drawn into her orbit like always. “More than okay. When?”

“Saturday?” She looks up at me through her lashes. “If you’re free?”

“I’m free.” I’d cancel every plan in the world to spend time with her. “Can we make a day of it? I’ll pick you up at noon?”

She nods, then stretches up to press a soft kiss to my lips. “Goodnight, Liam.”

I watch her slip inside, my skin tingling where her lips touched mine. Only when the door closes do I let out the breath I’ve been holding.

A date. A real date with Hannah. Like we’re teenagers again, like the world is full of possibility instead of pain.

As I walk back to my house, my steps feel lighter than they have in years. The future stretches out before me, bright with promise.

But a shadow crosses the moon, and for just a moment, I remember Charlie’s threats, Hannah’s fears, all the obstacles still standing between us and happiness.

I push the thoughts aside. Tomorrow will bring what it brings. Tonight, I choose hope.

I stuff my hands in my pockets and continue toward home, already counting the hours until Saturday.

Behind me, Hannah’s porch light glows steady in the darkness, a beacon calling me home.