Chapter Thirty-Nine
Liam
Maggie’s cheeks are warm beneath my hands, her expression shifting from shock to something softer, something that pulls at my chest. “I can’t believe you’re here,” she whispers, her voice unsteady. “You’re really here.”
“I’ve been standing out here for twenty minutes, trying to work up the nerve to come in,” I admit, feeling a little sheepish. “But then you walked out, and… well, here I am.”
Her blue eyes widen as she tilts her head up. “What are you doing here?”
I take a deep breath, letting the weight of my words sink in before I speak. “I never should have let you leave without figuring out what this is. Without figuring us out.”
Her lips part slightly, and the vulnerability in her gaze almost undoes me. “I don’t have a job anymore,” she says, almost as if she’s confessing a secret.
I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me. “Why not?”
“I quit,” she says, her words tumbling out. “Or… maybe I was let go. Honestly, I’m not sure anymore.”
My brow furrows, and I can’t help but smile at her honesty. “What’s the plan then?”
Her shoulders lift in a small shrug, and I know better than to suggest what I want—to tell her to get in my car, come back with me, and figure this out together. Maggie Cooper isn’t someone you tell what to do; she’s someone you wait for, someone who makes her own way.
“I need to call Jack,” she says, her voice growing steadier. “See if that job offer is still on the table. And then… I guess I’ll head to Odie’s and grab my things.”
My jaw tightens at the mention of his name. “Odie?” I repeat, the frown unmistakable in my voice. “The guy who was texting you?”
She nods, her lips twitching with amusement at my reaction. “Yeah. I’ve been crashing at his place for the past few days.”
It takes every ounce of willpower not to press the issue further. Instead, I let out a breath and try to shake off the sudden wave of possessiveness. “Do you want to get your stuff now?” I ask, keeping my tone even.
Maggie bites her lower lip, a gesture that sends a ripple through my chest, and leans in slightly. Her body is still close to mine, and the warmth of her presence is enough to steady me. “Actually, I could really use a piece of pie and a cup of coffee first.”
I smile, bending down to grab the box she dropped before taking her hand in mine. “Let’s go,” I say, knowing there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here, pie or no pie.
***
The diner is quieter than I expected for a weekday.
The warm glow of the overhead lights casts a rose-gold hue over the small space, and the faint hum of conversation blends with the sound of coffee being poured behind the counter.
Maggie slides into the booth across from me, her eyes scanning the laminated menu, though I can tell her mind is elsewhere.
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, the smallest of frowns tugging at her lips. “Do you think this place has good pie?”
“I’ve never had bad pie here,” I say with a small smile. “But I’ll warn you—they tend to overdo it on the whipped cream.”
Maggie’s lips twitch upward, and I take that as a small victory. “Good. I could use something over the top right now.”
The waitress, an older woman with kind eyes and a pen tucked behind her ear, approaches. “What can I get you?”
“Two slices of whatever pie you’ve got left,” I say, handing her the menus. “And two coffees.”
“You got it,” the waitress replies, disappearing behind the counter.
Maggie leans back against the booth, crossing her arms as she studies me. “You didn’t even ask what kind of pie they have.”
I grin. “Does it matter? Pie is pie.”
She shakes her head, but there’s a softness in her expression now. “You’re impossible.”
“Maybe,” I admit. “But I got you to smile.”
Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the rest of the diner fades away. It’s just us—two people who’ve been through more in the past week than some people face in a lifetime. And somehow, we’re still here. Together.
The waitress returns with two plates of pie and steaming mugs of coffee. Maggie picks up her fork, but instead of diving in, she hesitates. Her eyes linger on the pie for a second before she speaks.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” she begins, her voice soft. “About not wanting to live in fear anymore.”
I set my coffee down, my full attention on her. “Yeah?”
She nods, her fingers toying with the edge of the napkin. “I think I’ve been playing it safe for too long. Sticking to what’s comfortable. What’s familiar. But safe hasn’t exactly made me happy.”
I watch as her gaze drifts to the window, the light outside catching the amber flecks in her blue eyes. “And what does happy look like to you?” I ask.
Her eyes snap back to mine, and she exhales a laugh, shaking her head. “I don’t know. That’s the thing. I’ve spent so much time worrying about deadlines and bylines and whether I’m good enough that I never stopped to think about what I actually want.”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. “What do you want, Maggie?”
She stares at me for a long moment, like she’s searching for the answer in my face. Finally, she speaks. “I want a life that feels real. A life where I’m not constantly chasing something just to prove that I’m worthy of it. I want to tell stories that matter. I want to… I want to be brave.”
“You are brave,” I tell her firmly. “And if this past week has shown me anything, it’s that you’re more than enough.”
Her cheeks flush, and she ducks her head, taking a bite of her pie to avoid my gaze. “Don’t make me cry in public,” she mutters.
I chuckle, reaching across the table to take her hand. “I’m serious, Maggie. You’re the bravest person I know.”
She squeezes my hand, her grip warm and steady. “What about you?” she asks. “What does happy look like for you?”
I lean back, considering her question. “Happy looks like… balance. I’ve spent so much of my time chasing adrenaline and proving myself on the slopes that I didn’t leave room for anything else. But now? Now I want something different. Something… slower.”
“Slower,” she repeats, a small smile playing on her lips. “I can’t imagine you slowing down.”
“I can,” I reply. “Because slowing down doesn’t mean stopping. It just means making room for the things that really matter. Like family. Like telling my story the way it should be told. Like you.”
Her eyes widen slightly, and I can see the surprise flicker across her face. “Liam…”
I hold up a hand, cutting her off. “I’m not saying we have to figure everything out right now. But I know what I want, Maggie. And it’s you. It’s us. Whatever that looks like.”
She blinks, her lips parting like she’s about to say something, but instead, she laughs. It’s a soft, almost incredulous sound, but it’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.
“Why are you laughing?” I ask, grinning despite myself.
“Because,” she says, shaking her head, “you’re so… you. So straightforward and certain. It’s infuriating.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Infuriating in a good way?”
“In the best way.” She sighs as she smiles at me.
“So, what do we do now?”
“I take that job with Jack,” she replies. “And write more stories.”
“I like that plan.” I reach over and squeeze her hand.
“And what about you?” Maggie presses. “What’s your next step?”
I smile, the answer already clear in my mind.
“Mentoring some of the younger snowboarders. Sharing what I’ve learned.
And… I’ve been thinking about starting a nonprofit for athletes with chronic illnesses.
Something to show them that their careers don’t have to end just because their bodies change. ”
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.