23. Healing Through Connection
Chapter 23
Healing Through Connection
Liam
“ S on of a bitch,” I mutter as a nail bends sideways, again. My frustration echoes through the half-finished second floor of Garret’s house. The late afternoon sun streams through the unfinished walls, casting long shadows across the plywood floor. I’ve been wrestling with these stairs for hours, and my patience is wearing thin.
“Language!” Charlotte’s voice floats up from the kitchen below, followed by Rayne’s giggling. The sound of their laughter mingles with the scent of something sweet baking—probably those sugar cookies Rayne’s been begging to make all week.
“Sorry!” I call back, though I can’t help but smile. The simplicity of this moment strikes me—my brother’s family, happy and whole. The house may be a work in progress, but the love filling it is already fully formed.
Garret emerges from the bathroom he’s been tiling, wiping dust from his hands. “Need help with that?”
“Yeah.” I gesture at the stubborn stair riser. “These brackets are being a pain in the—uh, neck.”
He snorts at my self-censoring, but moves to hold the board steady while I line up another nail. Working together, we finally get the piece secured. The rhythmic pounding of our hammers fills the space, comfortable and familiar.
“You’re good at this.” Garret observes after a while. “Should’ve had you helping from the start.”
I shrug, lining up the next board. “Been a bit distracted lately.”
That’s an understatement. The past several days without Hannah have felt like an eternity. Every time my phone buzzes, my heart leaps thinking it might be her. And every time it’s not, the weight in my chest grows heavier.
More laughter drifts up from below—Rayne must be helping decorate the cookies now. The joy in her voice reminds me so much of Cam. God, I missed so much of his life.
“Hey.” Garret’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “She’ll come around.”
“Yeah?” I wipe sweat from my forehead, avoiding his gaze. “What if she doesn’t? What if I pushed too hard, too fast?”
“You told her you loved her,” he says matter-of-factly. “That’s not pushing. That’s being honest.”
“Maybe.” I start measuring the next riser, needing something to do with my hands. “But after everything she’s been through with Charlie… maybe she needs more time before hearing that.”
Garret is quiet for a moment. When he speaks, his voice is thoughtful. “You know, when Charlotte found out about Rayne—about me being her father—I thought that was it. Game over.”
I look up, surprised. We don’t often talk about that time. About how Garret’s brief relationship with Charlotte’s sister resulted in Rayne. How Carol died shortly after giving birth, taking the truth of Rayne’s paternity to her grave. At least until Rayne figured it out herself.
“What changed?” I ask.
“Charlotte did.” He smiles slightly. “Or maybe I did. Maybe we both did. Point is, we talked. Really talked. About everything —the hurt, the fear, the things we wanted for the future. It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it.”
I let his words sink in, thinking about Hannah. About all the things left unsaid between us. “I just… I don’t know how to help her heal. How to prove she can trust me.”
“Maybe you don’t have to prove anything.” He suggests. “Maybe you just need to be there. Show up. Stay steady.”
Before I can respond, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Probably another work email or one of the guys asking about parts for—
My heart nearly stops when I see the message.
Hannah
Can we talk?
Three simple words that send hope surging through my veins. My hands shake slightly as I type back.
Liam
Absolutely. When?
The minutes stretch like hours as I wait for her response. I pace the unfinished room, too restless to stay still. Garret watches me with knowing eyes but doesn’t comment.
Finally, my phone buzzes again.
Hannah
Tomorrow afternoon? Frank’s?
Liam
I’ll be there. Whatever time works for you.
She sends back a time, and I have to resist the urge to pump my fist in triumph. It’s not much—just a conversation—but it’s more than I’ve had in days.
“Good news?” Garret asks, though his smirk suggests he already knows the answer.
“She wants to talk.” I can’t keep the hope from my voice. “Tomorrow at Frank’s.”
He nods approvingly. “See? Staying steady pays off.”
“Yeah.” I run a hand through my hair, suddenly overwhelmed by the possibilities tomorrow holds. “I just hope—”
“Dad!” Rayne’s voice interrupts from downstairs. “Aunt Char says the cookies are ready! Come try them!”
Garret’s face lights up at her words—not just at the promise of cookies, but at being called ‘Dad.’ Same as me, he missed out on being her Dad for ten years. It’s still new enough to make him beam every time. It’s a filling I know well.
“Coming, sweetheart!” He calls back. “You too, Uncle Liam. Those cookies won’t eat themselves.”
I follow him downstairs, into the warmth of the kitchen. Charlotte stands at the counter, her blonde hair dusted with flour, while Rayne proudly displays a plate of slightly misshapen but enthusiastically decorated cookies.
“Look!” She exclaims. “I made this one specially for you, Uncle Liam. See? It has a wrench on it because you fix cars!”
My throat tightens unexpectedly as I accept the cookie—complete with a wobbly blue frosting wrench. “It’s perfect, kiddo. Thank you.”
Charlotte catches my eye over Rayne’s head, her expression knowing. “Everything okay?” she asks softly.
“Yeah.” I smile, and for the first time in days, it feels genuine. “I think it will be.”
We spend the next hour in the kitchen, sampling cookies and listening to Rayne’s elaborate plans for decorating her new bedroom once it’s finished. The scene is so domestic, so full of easy affection, that it makes my chest ache with longing.
This is what I want—not just with Hannah, but for Cam too. A home filled with laughter and love. A family that’s messy and imperfect but whole.
As the sun starts to set, I help clean up the kitchen. Rayne insists on sending me home with a bag of cookies. “For Cam!” she declares. “And Grams too!”
“Thanks, kiddo.” I ruffle her hair, earning a giggle. “I’m sure they’ll love them.”
Garret walks me out, the evening air cool against my skin. “You’ve got this,” he says simply. “Just remember. Steady.”
I nod, understanding what he means. No pushing, no rushing. Just being there, showing up, proving through actions that I’m not going anywhere.
“Thanks.” I clap him on the shoulder. “For everything.”
The walk home gives me time to think, to plan what I’ll say tomorrow. But as I get closer to the homestead, I realize that maybe planning isn’t what I need. Maybe what Hannah and I both need is just honesty—raw and real and sometimes messy, but true.
The house is quiet when I enter, most of my brothers are either out or in their rooms. But Grams sits in her usual spot on the porch swing, knitting needles clicking softly in the gathering dusk.
“Brought you cookies,” I say, settling beside her. “Rayne and Charlotte’s latest creation.”
She sets aside her knitting to peer into the bag. “Ah, that girl has talent. Though her frosting technique needs work.” Her sharp eyes find mine. “You seem different tonight. Less broody.”
I can’t help but laugh. Trust Grams to cut right to the heart of things. “Hannah wants to talk. Tomorrow.”
“Good.” She picks up her knitting again, needles resuming their steady rhythm. “About time you two sorted things out.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“Isn’t it?” She doesn’t look up from her work, but I can hear the wisdom in her voice. “Love isn’t complicated. People make it complicated. With their fears and their pride and their inability to just say what they mean.”
I think about that as I watch the stars emerge, twinkling against the darkening sky. About all the things left unsaid between Hannah and me. About how sometimes the simplest truths are the hardest to voice.
“I just want her to be happy.” I admit quietly. “Her and Cam both.”
“Then tell her that.” Grams reaches over to pat my knee. “Sometimes that’s all we need to hear—that someone wants our happiness more than they want anything else.”
Her words stay with me as I head up to bed, turning over in my mind like smooth stones in a river. Maybe that’s what tomorrow needs to be. Not grand declarations or elaborate explanations, but simple truths spoken from the heart.
I lay in bed for a long time, watching moonlight paint patterns on my ceiling. Tomorrow stretches before me like an unopened gift—full of possibility and promise. And for the first time in days, I feel ready to face whatever it brings.
Just before sleep claims me, my phone lights up with one final message.
Hannah
Thank you for being patient with me.
I smile in the darkness, typing back.
Liam
Always.
It’s not much—just one word—but it holds everything I want her to know. That I’m here. That I’m steady. That no matter what tomorrow brings, my heart beats in time with hers.
The unusually busy streets of Beaver blur past my truck’s windows as I navigate toward Frank’s Frosty Kreme. My palms are sweaty against the steering wheel, and my heart hammers so hard I can feel it in my throat. Hannah’s text from last night still burns in my mind. Can we talk?
Those three words kept me tossing and turning all night. After days of radio silence, days of wondering if I’d ruined everything by telling her I loved her, that simple message feels like a lifeline thrown into stormy waters.
I spot her the moment I pull into the parking lot. She’s sitting alone at one of the picnic tables outside, lost in thought as she stares into the distance. The late afternoon sun catches in her hair, highlighting the golden strands that always make me want to run my fingers through it. Even from here, I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way she keeps fidgeting with her hands.
God, I’ve missed her.
These past few days without her have been torture. Every time my phone buzzed, I hoped it was her. Every time I drove past her house, I fought the urge to stop and beg her to let me in. To tell me what I did wrong, how I could fix it.
But I know Hannah well enough to know she needed space. After everything she’s been through with Charlie, the last thing she needs is another man trying to control her choices. So I waited, even though it killed me. Counted the hours until she was ready to talk.
Now, watching her through my windshield, I’m terrified I’ve waited too long. That whatever we were building has crumbled in the silence between us.
Only one way to find out.
Taking a deep breath, I step out of my truck. The gravel crunches under my boots as I make my way toward her. She must hear me coming because she looks up, and the vulnerability in her eyes nearly stops me in my tracks. There’s something different about her today—a quiet determination beneath the fear that makes my heart skip.
“Hey,” I say softly, sliding onto the bench across from her. “I’m glad you texted.”
“Yeah, me too.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, and she won’t quite meet my eyes. The silence stretches between us, heavy with all the things we need to say but don’t know how to begin.
Up close, I can see the shadows under her eyes, the slight tremor in her hands as she plays with a paper napkin. Has she been sleeping? Eating? The protective instinct that’s been a part of me since we were kids roars to life, demanding I do something—anything—to ease her pain.
“I’ve missed you.” I admit, unable to keep the words inside any longer. Her eyes flicker to mine, and for a moment I catch a glimpse of the same longing I’ve been drowning in. “I want to work through this with you. Together. Whatever’s holding you back, whatever I did wrong—”
“No.” She cuts me off, shaking her head. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Liam. I did. This one is all on me.” A bitter laugh escapes her. “I went to a support group meeting last night.”
That catches me off guard. “You did?”
She nods, finally meeting my gaze fully. “I’ve been meaning to go for weeks, but I kept finding excuses not to. After… After what happened at the lake, I knew I had to do something. They helped me see how much I’m still letting fear control my life.”
My heart clenches at the pain in her voice. I want to reach across the table and take her hand, but I force myself to stay still. To let her get this out.
“I’m also looking for a therapist. I think that will help me too. Help me see how I’m not just hurting myself but also those I care the most about. I thought if I pushed you away, it would keep me safe. Keep Cam safe.” Her voice breaks slightly. “But all I did was hurt us both. Hurt you.”
“Hannah—”
“Please, let me finish.” She takes a shaky breath. “When you told me you loved me, it terrified me. Because the last man who said those words used them like weapons. Used them to control me, to keep me trapped. And I know—” Her voice catches. “I know you’re nothing like Charlie. I know you’d never hurt me that way. But there’s this voice in my head that won’t shut up, that keeps telling me I don’t deserve this. Don’t deserve you. I need help working through that.”
“I see you, Hannah,” I say firmly, unable to stay quiet any longer. “The real you. The strong, beautiful woman who survived hell and came out fighting. The amazing mother who’d do anything to protect her son. Our son.”
Tears spill down her cheeks at that, but she doesn’t look away. “I’m so tired of being afraid,” she whispers. “So tired of letting him win, even when he’s not here.”
This time I do reach for her hand, and the way she immediately laces her fingers through mine makes my chest ache. “You don’t have to carry this weight alone anymore. I’m here. I want to help you fight these battles. Not because I think you can’t handle them yourself, but because you shouldn’t have to.”
She stares at our joined hands for a long moment. “I’d like that. But I need you to be patient with me,” she says finally. “There are going to be days when the fear wins. Days when I pull away or push you away because it feels safer than letting myself be vulnerable.”
“I’ve got nothing but time.” I squeeze her fingers gently. “I’ll wait as long as you need. Just don’t shut me out completely? Even if you need space, let me know you’re okay?”
A small smile tugs at her lips—the first I’ve seen since I sat down. “I can do that.”
“That’s all I’m asking for.” I brush my thumb across her knuckles, savoring the simple contact. “And Hannah? When I told you I loved you, I meant it. But you don’t have to say it back until you’re ready. If you’re ever ready. Just knowing you’re willing to try, to let me be part of your life—that’s enough for now.”
Fresh tears spill down her cheeks, but these feel different somehow. Cleansing rather than painful, like the first warm rain after a long winter. Her blue eyes shine with a vulnerability that makes my heart ache.
“When did you get so wise?” she asks, trying for a teasing tone but not quite making it. Her voice wavers slightly, betraying the depth of emotion she’s fighting to control.
“Probably around the time I realized what an idiot I was for letting you go the first time.” The old guilt rises up, threatening to choke me. “If I had fought for you back then, if I hadn’t been so caught up in my own insecurities—”
“Don’t.” She cuts me off firmly. “We can’t change the past, Liam. God knows I’ve spent enough time wondering ‘what if.’ All we can do is try to be better now. To make different choices.”
She’s right, of course. But that doesn’t stop the memories from flooding back—the night I told her to marry Charlie, thinking I was doing the right thing. Thinking a man with money and status could give her a better life than some grease monkey with a failing auto shop and too many family responsibilities.
If I had known what he’d do to her…
Hannah must see where my thoughts are going because she squeezes my hand hard enough to hurt. “Hey. Look at me.” When I do, her eyes are fierce despite the tears. “What happened with Charlie wasn’t your fault. The choices he made, the things he did—that’s on him. Only him.”
“I should have been there for you.” I insist, the words torn from somewhere deep inside me. “Should have seen what was happening.”
“How could you? I hid it from everyone. My own parents didn’t know.” She stares off in the distance, lost in memories I can only imagine. “Besides, you’re here now. That’s what matters.”
A comfortable silence falls between us as we both process everything that’s been said. The sun has shifted lower on the horizon. The after school rush will start soon, bringing with it the usual crowd of locals looking for ice cream and burgers.
“I should get back to work,” Hannah says reluctantly, glancing at her watch. “My break was over ten minutes ago.”
I nod, but neither of us moves to let go of the other’s hand. “Have dinner with me tonight?” The words slip out before I can stop them. “Nothing fancy, just… I’d like to spend more time with you. With both of you.”
She hesitates for a moment, and I hold my breath. “Okay,” she says finally. “Can we do it at my house? Cam said he had a lot of homework to get done.”
“Whatever you need.” Relief floods through me. “I’ll take care of everything. Around seven?”
“That sounds perfect.” She starts to stand, then pauses. “Liam? Thank you. For being so patient with me. For understanding.”
I reach up to brush a stray tear from her cheek, my heart swelling when she leans into the touch instead of pulling away. “Always.”
She gives me one last smile before heading back inside, and I watch her go with a mixture of hope and lingering concern. The conversation was a start—a good one—but I know we still have a long road ahead of us. Charlie may be in jail, but his influence lingers like poison in Hannah’s mind. It will take time for her to fully trust again, to believe she deserves happiness.
But for the first time since she came back to town, I truly believe we can make it work. That the love we share is strong enough to overcome the shadows of her past.
I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to her if I have to.