“I can’t do this again,” he admitted, the words escaping before he could stop them. “I can’t lose someone else I love. I can’t survive it.”
Understanding dawned in Sunny’s eyes. “So you’re pushing me away before I can leave? Building walls so high I can’t reach you?”
“It’s not a conscious choice.” He stood abruptly, needing to move, to escape the intensity of her gaze. “It’s just… happening. Again. Like with Kate. I feel myself shutting down, shutting you out, and I can’t stop it.”
Sunny rose as well, taking a step toward him. “Yes you can. We can fight this together, Liam. I’m right here.”
She reached for him, her hand outstretched in silent invitation.
Liam stared at it for a long moment, torn between the desperate longing to accept her comfort and the paralyzing fear that had become his constant companion.
“I have to finish reviewing this footage,” he said finally, gesturing toward his laptop. “Coach wants my input before next practice.”
The excuse was flimsy, and they both knew it. Hurt flashed across Sunny’s face before she masked it with a practiced smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Of course,” she said, her hand falling back to her side. “Work.”
She turned to leave, pausing at the door. “Liam?” Her voice was soft, almost resigned. “I’m not Kate. And I’m not going anywhere unless you push me away.”
With that, she was gone, leaving him alone with the frozen images on his screen and the crushing weight of his own fear.
Liam sank back into his chair, running a shaking hand through his hair. Sunny’s words echoed in his mind, a truth he was too afraid to acknowledge: he was deliberately destroying the fragile hope they had built together, sabotaging his own chance at happiness out of fear of further loss.
The realization hit him with crushing clarity. This wasn’t just about pushing Sunny away — he was trapped in the same destructive cycle that had nearly consumed him after Kate died. The isolation. The emotional withdrawal. The refuge in work and hockey. The wall of silence that protected him from vulnerability while simultaneously cutting him off from those who loved him most.
He had promised himself — promised Kate’s memory — that he would never go down that dark path again. In those early months after her death, he’d been barely present for the girls, moving through life like a ghost while they grappled with the loss of their mother.
Now here he was, methodically repeating each mistake, step by painful step. Thedifference was that this time, he could see it happening, could feel himself slipping away even as he was powerless to stop it. Like watching a car crash in slow motion, fully aware of the impending devastation but unable to turn the wheel.
His gaze drifted to the silver-framed photograph on his desk — Kate on their wedding day, radiant in white lace, her eyes shining with love and promise.
“I swore I wouldn’t do this again,” he whispered to the smiling face that would never age, never change. “I promised you I’d be better. For them. For myself. But I’m failing them again, Kate. Just like I failed you.”
He could almost hear her response: “You never failed me, Liam. You’re only failing yourself by refusing to live, to love.”
The thought brought no comfort. Only the stark certainty that he was watching himself systematically dismantle everything good in his life.
Outside his window, the first pale light of dawn crept across the horizon, illuminating the walls he had so carefully rebuilt around his heart — stronger, higher, more impenetrable than before. And yet, for the first time, he could see them clearly for what they were: not protection, but a prison of his own making.
Sunny
Sunny startled awake at 4:14 AM, her heart racing from a dream she couldn’t quite remember. The same nightmare that had plagued her for the past week — something about running down endless hallways, searching for Maddie and Hailey as their voices echoed just out of reach. She pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes, willing the panic to subside.
Beside her, Liam slept fitfully, his broad shoulders tense even in slumber. She’d noticed how he’d been coming to bed later each night, spending hours reviewing game footage or on calls with his agent, as if sheer determination could turn the tide of negative press and mounting team pressure.
Sunny slipped from the bed, careful not to wake him. Her limbs felt heavy with exhaustion as she padded to the bathroom. The woman who stared back from the mirror looked like a stranger — dark circles bruised beneath bloodshot eyes, her normally vibrant complexion sallow, cheekbones more pronounced from the weight she’d lost as her appetite abandoned her.
Three pounds in two weeks. Not catastrophic, but enough that Beth had noticed, quietly placing extra servings on her plate at dinner. Enough that her favorite jeans hung looser on her hips. Enough to signal that everything was unraveling faster than she could hold it together.
Sunny splashedcold water on her face and returned to the bedroom. Instead of climbing back into bed, she curled up in the window seat, watching as storm clouds gathered over the distant city skyline. Tomorrow would bring another day of pretending everything was fine in front of the girls, another day of ignoring the whispers that followed them at school pickup, another day of watching Liam struggle to balance his career and their relationship.
When sleep finally reclaimed her, it was as fitful as Liam’s.
***
“You can’t keep avoiding this conversation, Anderson.”
Gerald Parker’s voice came through the speakerphone with crystal clarity, filling Liam’s home office where Sunny stood frozen, a mug of coffee half-extended toward Liam. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, had only intended to bring him a much-needed caffeine boost before he left for morning practice. Now she found herself witnessing the conversation she’d been dreading.
