Liam knocked.
Sunny
Five days. Five days since she’d walked away from the Anderson home, from the life she’d begun to build, from the family that had somehow become her own. Five days of alternating between numbing emptiness and searing pain that threatened to split her chest in two.
Sunny wrapped her arms around herself, the evening chill seeping through the oversized cardigan — the one she’d absently grabbed from Liam’s closet while packing. She pressed the fabric to her nose, inhaling deeply. His cologne lingered in the threads, faint but unmistakable. Her throat tightened as the scent enveloped her, and she let the cardigan drop from her face, swallowing hard.
The cabin was nothing special: a small A-frame with weathered wooden siding and windows that rattled when the wind picked up. Rustic. Remote. Perfect for disappearing. Which was exactly what she’d intended when she’d booked it three days ago, unable to settle, unable to plan beyond the next meal, the next hour. Lake Willow had been a random choice, a pin dropped on a map when she couldn’t bear another night of staring at the cracked ceiling of her tiny apartment.
But even here, at the edge of this serene lake miles from Kansas City, she couldn’t outrun the memories. They followed her like shadows, longer and darker as the day waned.
The cabin was spare but cozy — a small kitchenette, a living area with astone fireplace, a bedroom just big enough for a queen bed, and a bathroom with temperamental plumbing. It wasn’t the Ritz, but the Ritz wasn’t within her budget. Sunny moved to the fireplace, methodically arranging kindling the way Liam had taught her, when the girls had fallen asleep early and they’d stayed up talking by the fire until dawn.
“Start with the smallest pieces at the bottom,” his voice echoed in her memory. “Like building anything that lasts — you need a solid foundation.”
A solid foundation. The irony wasn’t lost on her.
As flames caught and began to lick upward, Sunny’s gaze drifted to the small side table where she’d placed the unexpected stowaway she’d discovered while unpacking her hastily gathered belongings.
Betty Bear sat propped against the lamp, her well-loved fur matted in places, one glass eye slightly looser than the other. Maddie’s most treasured possession — the last gift Kate had given her before dying. Sunny had found her tucked at the bottom of her duffle bag, a discovery that had made her breath catch when she’d pulled the stuffed animal free.
At first, she’d been confused — had she accidentally packed one of Maddie’s toys in her rush to leave? But the folded note tucked under Betty’s worn pink ribbon told a different story. In Hailey’s wobbly kindergarten writing:
For Sunni, So yoo wont be lonlee.
Sunny’s fingers had trembled as she’d traced each misspelled word. The careful, determined letters had blurred through her tears, and she’d clutched the bear to her chest, muffling her sobs against its worn fur until her throat was raw and her eyes burned.
Sweet, perceptive Hailey. Somehow knowing that Sunny would be just as lonely as they were. And she was right. Despite the tranquility of the lake, despite the space to breathe without feeling like she was drowning in memories, Sunny had never felt more alone.
What was she doing here? Running away had solved nothing. The distance hadn’t diminished her feelings; it had only clarified them. She loved them — all of them. And leaving them had been the hardest thing she’d ever done.
But what choice did she have? Liam had made his position clear. His career, his daughters’ stability — those were his priorities. And she couldn’t fault him for that. After everything he’d been through, after losing Kate so suddenly, his caution was understandable. His fear was valid.
And yet… the hollow look in Maddie’s eyes as she’d realized Sunny was leaving. Hailey’s desperate grip on her legs. The way Liam had stood in the doorway, watching her drive away, his face a mask of resignation. Had she misread the situation? Had she been too quick to accept his acquiescence as his true desire?
A sharp knock on the cabin door jolted Sunny from her thoughts. Her pulse jumped, stomach flipping as if she’d missed a step on a staircase. Who could possibly be here? The rental office had closed hours ago, and she hadn’t seen another soul since checking in.
Cautiously, she approached the door, peering through the small window beside it. The porch light wasn’t on, making it difficult to see more than a silhouette — tall, broad-shouldered, achingly familiar.
Impossible.
Sunny’s fingers hovered over the doorknob, frozen in place. Blood rushed in her ears, drowning out the soft lapping of waves against the shore outside. It couldn’t be. And yet, as the figure shifted slightly, the fading daylight caught his profile, confirming what her racing heart already knew.
Liam.
Liam Anderson was standing on her porch, two hours from home, miles from where anyone would think to look for her.
For a long moment, Sunny couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Her lungs refused to expand, as if the air had suddenly become too thick.
How had he found her? Why was he here? What did this mean?
Another knock, more hesitant this time, broke her paralysis.
With a trembling hand, she unlocked the door but didn’t open it fully — leaving just enough space to peer through, maintaining a physical barrier that matched the emotional wall she’d built since leaving.
“What are you doing here?” she managed, her voice emerging steadier than she felt.
Liam looked exhausted — deep shadows beneath his eyes, stubble darkening his jaw. He wore the charcoal suit she’d only seen him in for press events, though it was rumpled now, the collar askew, the tie long since abandoned. In one hand, he clutched a small bouquet of wildflowers, clearly gathered from the roadside, their stems unevenly broken rather than cut.
