By the time he reached the lobby, his phone was already buzzing with calls from Mike, his agent. Liam silenced it. He had one more thing to do beforehe dealt with the fallout.
***
The impromptu press conference came together faster than Liam had anticipated. A single text to the Coyotes’ PR director —Meeting press outside training facility in 30. My statement, not the team’s— had set the wheels in motion. By the time he pulled into the parking lot, a small cluster of sports reporters had already gathered, their numbers growing as word spread.
Liam sat in his car for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Public speaking had never been his forte. On the ice, he let his play do the talking. In interviews, he stuck to safe, scripted answers about team effort and taking it one game at a time.
But today required something different. Today required honesty.
Drawing a steadying breath, he stepped out of the car and approached the assembled media. Flashes popped as cameras captured his unexpected formal attire. He recognized most of the faces — beat reporters who covered the team, sports anchors from local channels, a few national hockey correspondents. But there were unfamiliar faces too — tabloid reporters drawn by the scandal that had enveloped his personal life.
Liam stopped at the edge of the gathering, hands clasped in front of him to hide their slight tremor.
“Thanks for coming on such short notice,” he began, his deep voice carrying across the parking lot. “I have a statement I’d like to make, and then I’ll take a few questions.”
The murmur of voices quieted, microphones thrust forward eagerly.
“For the past few weeks, there’s been a lot of speculation about my personal life,” Liam continued. “About my relationship with Sunny Thompson, who until recently was my children’s nanny.”
He paused, measuring his words carefully.
“I’ve been advised to issue denials, to distance myself from these ‘rumors.’ I’ve been pressured to choose between my career and my personal happiness.” His jaw tightened momentarily. “I’m here today to say that I refuse to make that choice.”
A ripple of surprise moved through the crowd.
“My wife Kate died seven months ago,” Liam said, his voice steady despite the pain that accompanied her name. “She was the love of my life, the mother of my children, my best friend. Losing her devastated our family in ways I can’t fully express.”
Several reporters looked down, discomfort evident in their postures as the usual adversarial dynamic shifted.
“When Sunny came into our lives, she brought light back to a home that had been shrouded in grief. She loves my daughters as if they were her own. And against all odds, in the midst of my own brokenness, I found myself falling in love with her.”
The admission sent a fresh wave of camera flashes popping, but Liam pressed on.
“I don’t expect everyone to understand or approve. But I do ask for basic human decency. My daughters have already lost their mother. They’ve endured more scrutiny and judgment than any child should face. The speculation, the cruel comments, the invasion of our privacy — it stops now.”
He squared his shoulders, meeting the gaze of the most aggressive tabloid reporter directly.
“Sunny Thompson is an exceptional woman of integrity, compassion, and strength. Any suggestion otherwise is not only false but malicious. And anyone who continues to harass my family will answer to me.” The quiet steel in his voice left no doubt about his seriousness.
“I’ll takequestions now,” he finished, bracing himself for the onslaught.
The first came from a sports reporter he’d known for years. “Liam, have you spoken with Sunny since reports surfaced that she’s left your home?”
A flicker of pain crossed his features before he could mask it. “Not yet. But I intend to.”
“Sources inside the organization suggest management has concerns about your focus on hockey,” called another reporter. “How do you respond?”
“My commitment to this team hasn’t changed,” Liam replied evenly. “But I reject the idea that athletes should sacrifice their personal happiness for their sport. That’s an outdated and frankly unhealthy expectation.”
“What about the morality clauses in your contract?” asked a sharp-voiced woman near the back. “Aren’t you in violation by publicly acknowledging this relationship?”
Liam met her gaze steadily. “I’m sure the league’s lawyers will have opinions on that. It’s not my primary concern right now.”
Questions continued for several minutes — some respectful, others deliberately provocative. Unlike his usual press appearances, Liam didn’t dodge or deflect. He answered with a candor that seemed to catch even the most cynical reporters off guard.
“Final question,” called the Coyotes’ PR director, who had appeared partway through the impromptu conference, her expression vacillating between professional calm and barely concealed panic.
A young reporter Liam didn’t recognize raised his hand. “Mr Anderson, are you concerned this stance might end your career with the Coyotes?”
