He looked like hell. Felt worse.
“She’s gone,” he said aloud, testing how the words felt in the empty house. They hung in the air, solid and irrefutable. “She’s really gone.”
Another room, another ghost. The den where they’d first made love, where he’d held her as she cried after losing their baby. The spot by the window where he’d asked her to marry him, his heart soaring when she looked at him with those soulful eyes full of surprise and cautious joy.
Gone. All of it. Gone.
His phone buzzed in his pocket — the fifth call from Mike in the past hour. With a weary sigh, Liam finally answered.
“Yeah.”
“Jesus, Liam, finally,” Mike’s exasperation crackled through the speaker. “I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.”
“Been busy.” The lie tasted bitter on his tongue. He hadn’t been busy. He’d been watching his world collapse around him, one excruciating second at a time.
“Well, I’ve got news,” Mike continued, his tone shifting to cautious optimism. “I just got off a call with Gerald Parker. Team management is ‘pleased with your recent decisions.’ Their words, not mine.”
Liam’s grip tightened on the phone. “Pleased,” he repeated flatly.
“They’ve backed off the trade talks, at least for now. Said they’re willing to see how things progress over the next few weeks before making any final decisions about your contract.”
A surge of bitter laughter threatened to escape Liam’s throat. So his sacrifice had worked — the corporate vultures were temporarily satisfied with the pound of flesh he’d carved from his own heart.
“Great,” he managed, the word hollow and lifeless.
Mike paused, clearly expecting more enthusiasm. “Look, this is good news, Liam. The pressure’s off, at least for the moment. But they’re still concerned about your performance on the ice. Parker mentioned specifically that while they appreciate you ‘refocusing on your career,’ they need to see tangible improvements in your stats.”
The implication settled like lead in Liam’s gut. He’d destroyed everything he cared about for this — for the conditional approval of men in suits who saw him as nothing more than an asset on a balance sheet. And it still wasn’t enough.
“Let me get this straight,” Liam said, his voice dangerously quiet. “I kicked out the woman I love, traumatized my daughters, and ripped my own heart out because the team wasn’t happy with my ‘distractions.’ And now they’re telling me that’s not enough? That my performance is still an issue?”
“Liam—”
“No, Mike. I want to be crystal clear on this. I did exactly what they wanted. I destroyed my personal life to please them. And they’re still not satisfied?”
“That’s not what I said,” Mike backpedaled hastily. “They’re just looking for consistent improvement going forward. The pressure’s off for now, but—”
The rest of Mike’s placating speech faded into background noise as rage boiled up inside Liam, hot and cleansing. With a primal growl, he hurled his phone across the room. It hit the wall with a satisfying crack before clattering to the floor, screen shattered but still glowing faintly with Mike’s contact information.
The momentary release of anger evaporated as quickly as it had come, leaving behind only emptiness and the sharp sting of regret. Liam sank onto the couch, head in his hands. He’d sacrificed everything for his career, and for what? A temporary reprieve? A conditional second chance?
He’d made a catastrophic mistake, and now it was too late to fix it.
The realization hit him with the force of a body check into the screens.
***
The elementary school parking lot bustled with minivans and SUVs as parents queued for afternoon pickup. Liam spotted Beth’s silver sedan near the front of the line, the older woman standing beside it with a troubled expression.
“How were they today?” Liam asked as he approached, already dreading the answer.
Beth’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Difficult,” she said finally. “Maddie refused to speak to anyone. Her teacher called — she sat alone at lunch, wouldn’t participate in group activities. Hailey had a meltdown during art class. Tore up her drawing and screamed that she wanted Sunny.”
Each word was a knife twisting in Liam’s gut. He nodded, unable to form a response that wouldn’t sound pathetically inadequate.
The school doors burst open, releasing a flood of chattering children. Liam spotted his daughters immediately — Maddie walking stiffly ahead, her small face a mask of rigid control, Hailey trailing behind with red-rimmed eyes and untied shoelaces.
“I’ve got it from here,” Liam told Beth quietly. “Thanks for coming out.”
