Ray cleared his throat. “Your contract negotiation is in six months. Your performance hasn’t been… what it once was. These off-ice distractions won’t help your position.”
The threat was thinly veiled. Sixteen years of loyalty to the team, physical sacrifices, and playing through injuries and family trauma — all reduced to a bargaining chip.
“You’re asking me to choose between my career and my personal life,” Liam said flatly.
“We’re asking you to be professional,” Gerald countered. “To remember your obligations to this organization and your fans. To consider what’s best for your daughters’ privacy and well-being.”
Invoking his daughters felt like a low blow. Liam stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the hardwood floor.
“I’ll take yourconcernsunder advisement,” he said, the words bitter on his tongue. “But don’t presume to tell me what’s best for my family.”
Mike rose beside him, murmuring something placating to the executives as Liam stalked toward the door.
“Think long and hard, Anderson,” Gerald called after him. “Think with your upstairs head. For all our sakes.”
Liam didn’t respond, didn’t trust himself to speak as he pushed through the door and into the hallway. The rage coursing through his veins made his vision blur at the edges, his breathing labored as he jabbed at the elevator button.
Vanessa appeared beside him, her heels clicking sharply on the polished floor. She leaned in close, her voice low enough that only he could hear.
“What would Kate think?” she asked, the words delivered with surgical precision.
Liam froze, his finger hovering over the elevator button. The question landed like a knife between his ribs, twisting deep. Before he could respond, the elevator doors opened, revealing his distorted reflection in the polished metal interior. He barely recognized the man staring back.
The drive home felt interminable. Liam gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white against the black leather. Rain began to fall, fat drops spattering against the windshield in a rhythm that matched his racing pulse.
“What would Kate think?”
Vanessa’s parting shot still echoed in his ears, delivered with cold logic just as he stepped into the elevator. WhatwouldKate think? That question had haunted him since the first stirrings of feelings for Sunny. Would she understand that he wasn’t replacing her, but simply trying to find a way to keep breathing? Would she approve of Sunny’s gentle influence on their daughters?
As traffic slowed to a crawl, Liam’s thoughts spiraled darker. Maybe management was right; perhaps he was being selfish, prioritizing his own happiness over his daughters’ privacy. The photos from Saint Lucia had already thrown their lives into chaos. What would happen if this continued?
His phone buzzed against the center console. Alex Pasternak’s name flashed on the screen, igniting a fresh surge of anger. He silenced the call and saw five missed texts waiting — two from teammates offering awkward support, one from his mother asking if he was okay, and two from other players clearly fishing for gossip.
Everyone wants a piece ofme, he thought bitterly.Everyone thinks they deserve an explanation.
The rain intensified, sheets of water cascading down the windshield faster than the wipers could clear it. Visibility dwindled, and Liam pulled onto the shoulder, putting the car in park with a jerky motion.
A wave of helplessness washed over him. He was Liam Anderson, a feared power forward, a man used to solving problems with physicality and determination. But this — this he couldn’t body-check into submission. This he couldn’t outskate or outmuscle.
With a strangled cry of frustration, he slammed his fist into the dashboard. Pain shot through his hand, splitting the skin across his knuckles. The physical hurt was almost a relief, a counterpoint to the emotional storm within him.
Blood beaded along the raw skin of his hand as he sat there, breathing heavily and watching raindrops race down the windshield. Each drop followed its own chaotic path, colliding and merging with others before disappearing.
Like his life — once so straightforward, now a collision of grief and hope, public and private, past and potential future.
Liam
Liam arrived home to find a photographer’s car parked across the street from his gated driveway. The telephoto lens pointed directly at his property made his stomach clench. So much for privacy. So much for protecting his girls from this circus.
As the gates swung open, he spotted Sunny in the front yard with Maddie and Hailey, clearly trying to usher them inside. When she heard the sound of his car, relief washed over her face, but it was quickly replaced by something guarded.
Liam parked and stepped out into the drizzle, the humidity pressing against him like a physical weight.
Sunny hung back, her arms wrapped protectively around her midsection. There was something off about her posture, a tension that hadn’t been there before. Her face seemed paler than usual, dark circles smudged beneath her eyes like bruises.
“Everything all right?” he asked her quietly as he reached the porch.
She nodded too quickly. “Fine. Just… there’s been a photographer out there all morning. I’ve been trying to keep the girls away.”
