“Sunny,” he said her name reverently. “I found you.”
Those three simple words contained such raw emotion that Sunny’s grip tightened on the door frame, her knuckles whitening.
“How?” she asked, still not opening the door wider, still maintaining that crucial distance.
Liam’s lips curved in a sad, tired smile. “Betty Bear,” he said, nodding toward the inside of the cabin. “After Kate gave her to Maddie, we kept losing her. So I put a tracker inside her. In case she ever got lost again.”
Sunny blinked, processing the information. Her eyes darted to the stuffed animal still propped against the lamp, then back to Liam.
“Hailey put her in your bag before you left,” Liam explained. “She wanted you to have something… something so you wouldn’t be alone.”
The revelation hit Sunny with physical force. She took a small step back, steadying herself against the door. Hailey hadn’t just given her a stuffed animal for comfort — she’d unknowingly given her father the means to find her.
“But I don’t understand,” Sunny said, her voice finally betraying her confusion. “Why are you here, Liam? We said everything that needed to be said.”
“No,” Liam countered, taking a small step forward, his shoulders squaring. “We didn’t. Not even close.”
Lightning flashed in the distance, illuminating the lake behind him for a brief, electric moment. The air felt charged, heavy with impending rain and unspoken words.
“Can I come in?” he asked. “Please? I’ve driven for hours and…” he trailed off, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “I need to talk to you, Sunny. Face to face.”
She should say no. She should close the door, lock it, retreat back into the solitude she’d sought. That would be the smart thing, the self-preserving thing.
Instead, she found herself stepping back, the door opening wider of its own accord. Her body made the decision her mind was still wrestling with.
As Liam entered, the small cabin seemed to shrink, his presence filling every corner. His height, normally a comfort, now emphasized how little space there was between them. He looked out of place in his suit among the rustic furnishings, like a corporate executive who’d wandered onto a camping trip.
“You look tired,” she observed, taking the wildflowers he offered automatically. The stems were damp against her fingers, their petals still beaded with moisture.
“I haven’t slept much,” he admitted. “Not since you left.”
Sunny moved to the kitchenette, busying herself with finding something to put the flowers in. Every movement felt deliberate, a dance of avoidance. “The girls?” she asked, her back to him as she filled a mason jar with water.
“They miss you,” Liam said simply. “More than I can express.”
Her hands faltered, water sloshing over the rim as she set the jar down. A peculiar pressure built behind her sternum, both sharp and dull at once. “And whose fault is that?” The question emerged sharper than she’d meant, edged with five days of accumulated hurt.
“Mine,” Liam answered without hesitation. “It’s my fault, Sunny. All of it.”
The frankness of his admission caught her off guard. She turned to face him, really looking at him for the first time since he’d arrived. The confident, composed player was nowhere to be seen. In his place stood a man undone — hair mussed as if he’d repeatedly run his hands through it, suit wrinkled, eyes rimmed with red. He looked diminished somehow, vulnerable in a way that made her chest ache despite her resolve to remain detached.
“Why are you here?” she asked again, softer this time.
Liam took a deep breath, his chest expanding visibly beneath his wrinkled shirt. “Because I made the biggest mistake of my life when I let you go. Because my daughters haven’t smiled in five days. Because I realized, far too late, that I was never protecting them by pushing you away — I was only protecting myself.”
Thunder rumbled outside, closer now, the storm approaching just as the emotional tempest between them intensified.
“From what?” Sunny challenged, arms crossed protectively over her chest, fingers digging into her biceps. “What were you protecting yourself from, Liam?”
His eyes — those piercing blue eyes that had first captivated her during their interview — met hers directly. “From loving someone and losing them again. From risking the kind of pain I felt when Kate died. From…” his voice lowered, almost inaudible, “from being vulnerable.”
Sunny’s crossed arms loosened slightly, her fingertips easing their pressure. Hadn’t she done the same thing, in her own way? Running when things got hard, expecting rejection because it was all she’d known growing up?
“I was a coward,” Liam continued, taking a tentative step toward her. “I used the team’s ultimatum as an excuse, but the truth is, I was terrified. Not of losing my career, but of losing you. And in my fear, I pushed you away first — before you could leave me.”
Sunny’s breath caught. This was Liam Anderson — confident, stoic Liam — laying himself bare before her. No masks, no walls, just raw, unfiltered truth. The man who’d spent months carefully guarding his emotions, keeping them in check around his daughters, around his team, around her, now stood before her with every defense dismantled.
“You agreed it was for the best,” she reminded him, even as her resolve wavered. Her voice dropped. “You said it yourself — your career, the girls’ stability—”
