Page 90 of Landing Liam

Her eyes soften, and she nods. “That sounds perfect.”

We finish our pie in comfortable silence, our fingers interlocked on the table. And, when we leave the diner, the air is crisp and cool, the sun setting behind the mountains. I walk her to my car, my hands shoved deep into my pockets to keep them warm. She turns to face me.

“What do we do first?” Her blue eyes search my face for the answer.

I step closer, the space between us shrinking until I can feel the warmth of her breath against my skin. “We take it one step at a time.”

Her smile is small but genuine, and when she leans up to kiss me, it feels like the final piece of a puzzle slipping into place.

We don’t have everything figured out yet, but we’re building something real. Something that matters.

I think back to that day in the doctor’s office, when I first heard the words multiple sclerosis and thought my life as I knew it was over. But now, watching Maggie take this leap and knowing I’ve finally stopped running from my own truth, I realize something important.

It wasn’t the end—it was just the beginning.

Epilogue

Maggie

One year later…

The sunlight filters through the wide windows of the house Liam and I now call home, painting the cozy living room in soft amber hues.

Our sanctuary sits nestled on the outskirts of Windwood, surrounded by towering pines and breathtaking mountain views. The fire crackles in the hearth, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the faint aroma of pine drifting in through the open window. Every corner of this house feels like us—crafted with care, filled with pieces of our pasts, and warmed by the life we’re creating together.

On the mantle above the fireplace, a framed photo of Liam’s final competition sits beside my first published feature for the Windwood Times. His trophies are neatly displayed on the shelf nearby, not as reminders of what he left behind, but as symbols of the foundation he’s building now. Tucked among them is a photo of Liam and his young mentees, their grinning faces proof of the legacy he’s fostering on the local slopes.

From the kitchen comes the familiar sound of Izzy and Mia bickering over table settings, their laughter carrying through the house.

“Seriously, Mia, why do we even need placemats? This isn’t a five-star restaurant,” Izzy quips.

“Because it’s brunch, and brunch deserves dignity!” Mia retorts, exasperation tinged with amusement.

I chuckle, watching them from the doorway. Izzy, with her quick wit and no-nonsense demeanor, has become one of my closest friends. She has a way of making people feel safe. All the Thompsons do. Mia, on the other hand, keeps the family together with her insistence on tradition. Together, they’re a force of nature, and I feel lucky to be part of their world.

“Are you going to stand there gawking, or are you going to help?” Izzy calls, smirking as she grabs a pile of napkins.

“Sorry,” I laugh, stepping forward. “Got lost in the view.”

“Well, don’t get too comfortable. Mia’s already decided you’re hosting Easter here this year,” Izzy teases, her green eyes sparkling.

Liam walks in just then, carrying a tray of pastries. “What’s this about Easter?”

“Izzy’s trying to force Maggie into hosting,” Mia explains with a mock glare at her cousin.

“Good luck with that,” Liam says, leaning over to kiss my temple. “Maggie doesn’t scare easily.”

Brunch is lively and chaotic in the best way. The kitchen fills with the aroma of bacon and fresh muffins, and the conversation flows as freely as the coffee. Izzy shares stories about her latest charity project she’s working on with her husband, Brady, while Mia chats about sleepless nights with a four-month old baby. Jenny, Liam’s mom, is rocking Taylor and Elle’s baby to sleep while Uncle Matt and Kyle, Liam’s dad, are arguing over who has more experience building a shed. I sit beside Liam, his arm draped over the back of my chair, and soak it all in.

This family, with all its noise and love and messiness, is everything I’d always wanted but never thought I’d find. They’ve taken me in, no questions asked, and made me feel like I belong.

When the dishes are cleared and the house begins to quiet, the Thompsons wave their goodbyes, leaving Liam and me alone. The silence that follows feels like a soft exhale after a morning of laughter and connection.

“You want to go for a walk?” Liam asks.

I glance at him, the sunlight filtering through the window behind him makes him glow. “I’d love to.”

The trail behind our house winds through tall pines and rugged rocks, eventually opening into a clearing with one of the best views of the mountains. It’s become our spot, a place that feels like it belongs to us alone. As we walk, Liam’s hand finds mine, ours fingers threading together with ease and familiarity.