Liam stood, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out his lucky hockey puck, the one he’d carried since his first professional game. Aged and worn, it had been a talisman through the best and worst moments of his career. He’d clutched it during his draft day, his first championship win, the night Maddie was born, and through the darkest days after Kate’s death.
For years, hockey had defined him — his identity, his worth, his purpose. But standing here now, he realized something had shifted inside him. This puck, this symbol of everything he’d once prioritized, suddenly felt like it belonged to a different man.
He placed it carefully at the base of the headstone, feeling strangely lighter as he let it go. “A promise,” he said simply, relinquishing not just the physical object but the man he’d been — the man who put career before heart, who let fear drive his decisions. Then, with one last look at the peaceful spot, he turned and walked back to his car, each step heavier than the last.
Sunny wasn’t here. He was back to square one.
Liam
Liam pushed open the front door, the silence of the house hitting him like a wave. Gone was the melody of Sunny’s humming that usually drifted from the kitchen, the giggles and squeals that followed her and the girls through their afternoon rituals. In their place hung a heavy stillness that seemed to absorb every sound, even the thud of his keys as he dropped them on the entry table.
“Hello?” he called, his voice echoing in the emptiness.
“In the kitchen,” Beth answered, her tone subdued.
Liam found them there — Beth standing at the counter slicing apples that no one would eat, Maddie hunched over at the table, opening drawers and looking inside, her movements frantic. Hailey sat on a stool, staring blankly at a coloring book where her crayon hadn’t moved for what looked like hours.
When the girls spotted him, something worse than disappointment flickered across their faces: a momentary hope quickly extinguished as they registered he was alone. Liam felt the weight of their dashed expectations like stones piled on his chest.
“You didn’t find her,” Maddie said flatly. Not a question.
Liam crossed to her, kneeling beside her chair. “Not yet,” he admitted, reaching for her hand. She allowed the contact but didn’t return his gentle squeeze. “But I’m not giving up.”
Maddie turned away, resuming her search of another drawer. “I can’t find BettyBear,” she muttered, her voice tight with emotion. “She’s not anywhere.”
Liam looked questioningly at Beth, who gave a small shake of her head. “We’ve been looking all morning,” she explained quietly. “Turned the house upside down.”
Maddie’s eyes — so like Kate’s it sometimes stole his breath — were rimmed with red as she continued her increasingly desperate search. “She has to be here. She’s always here.” Her voice cracked slightly. “I need her.”
The bear had been Maddie’s constant companion since her fifth birthday — the last present Kate had given her before she died.
“When did you notice she was missing?” Liam asked, helping Maddie close the drawer she’d been rifling through.
“This morning,” Maddie answered, moving to check under the table again. “I went to get her from my special shelf, but she wasn’t there. She’s notanywhere.”
From her stool, Hailey made a small noise, something between a hiccup and a whimper. Liam glanced over, noticing how his younger daughter had suddenly become intensely focused on her coloring, her head bowed low.
“Hailey?” he asked, recognizing the telltale signs. “Do you know where Betty Bear is?”
Hailey’s crayon stilled, but she didn’t look up. Her shoulders hunched slightly, as if trying to make herself smaller.
“Hailey,” Maddie said, immediately alert to her sister’s behavior. “What did you do with Betty Bear?”
“I didn’t mean to make you sad,” Hailey whispered, still not looking up.
Maddie rushed to her sister’s side. “Where is she? Did you hide her?”
Hailey finally lifted her face, her expression a mixture of guilt and defiance. “I gave her to Sunny,” she admitted in a small voice.
“Youwhat?” Maddie’s face flushed with anger.
“Sunny was sad!” Hailey protested, tears welling in her eyes. “She was trying not to cry when she was packing, but I could see she was going to. And — and Betty Bear makes you feel better when you’re sad.” Her chin quivered. “I just wanted to help her not be sad.”
Maddie’s anger deflated as quickly as it had risen, replaced by a defeated slump of her shoulders. “Now they’re both gone,” she said.
Liam wrapped an arm around Maddie, pulling her close. “We’ll find Sunny,” he promised. “And when we do, we’ll get Betty Bear back too.”
But even as he said the words, doubt gnawed at him. Without any leads, finding Sunny felt like an impossible task, a search for a needle in an endless haystack.
