Sunny
Beside her, Liam slept fitfully, his broad shoulders tense even in slumber. She’d noticed how he’d been coming to bed later each night, spending hours reviewing game footage or on calls with his agent, as if sheer determination could turn the tide of negative press and mounting team pressure.
Three pounds in two weeks. Not catastrophic, but enough that Beth had noticed, quietly placing extra servings on her plate at dinner. Enough that her favorite jeans hung looser on her hips. Enough to signal that everything was unraveling faster than she could hold it together.
When sleep finally reclaimed her, it was as fitful as Liam’s.
***
“You can’t keep avoiding this conversation, Anderson.”
Gerald Parker’s voice came through the speakerphone with crystal clarity, filling Liam’s home office where Sunny stood frozen, a mug of coffee half-extended toward Liam.
She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, had only intended to bring him a much-needed caffeine boost before he left for morning practice.
Now she found herself witnessing the conversation she’d been dreading.
“I’m not avoiding anything,” Liam replied, his voice tight. “My performance on the ice—”
“Has been abysmal,” Parker cut in sharply. “Your stats are down across the board. Two crucial missed shots in the Denver game, that ridiculous penalty against Phoenix… this isn’t the Anderson the Coyotes signed.”
“Every player has rough patches,” Liam countered, though Sunny could hear the strain in his voice.
Parker’s laugh held no humor. “This is more than a rough patch, and we both know why. Your little domestic experiment is distracting you from what should be your primary focus. The board’s patience has run out.”
Sunny flinched at the phrase “domestic experiment,” the casual cruelty making her hand tremble. Coffee sloshed over the rim of the mug, scalding her fingers. She set it down on the edge of Liam’s desk, intending to slip away unnoticed, but Liam’s eyes met hers, a silent apology in their depths.
“I’ll need to call you back,” Liam said into the phone, not waiting for a response before disconnecting.
An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Sunny wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the early autumn morning.
“How much did you hear?” Liam asked finally.
“Enough.” She attempted a smile that felt more like a grimace. “He has a real gift for making people feel worthless, doesn’t he?”
Liam ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. “Parker’s an ass, but he’s not wrong about my performance. I’ve been… distracted.”
Sunny noted the dark shadows beneath his eyes, the tension in his shoulders. This wasn’t just about one phone call; it was the culmination of weeks of mounting pressure.
“The ultimatum from last month wasn’t enough?” she asked. “They’re still pressing this issue?”
“It’s gotten worse.” Liam’s voice was hollow. “It’s become clear they’re not just threatening my contract — they’re actively moving to trade me.”
The revelation hit Sunny like a physical blow. Trading Liam would mean uprooting the entire family — new city, new school for the girls, new home. Everything they had built would be dismantled in one cruel corporate decision.
“Can they really do that?”
“It’s part of the business.” Liam’s bitterness was palpable. “Coach Hendricks warned me last week. Said management was having ‘serious discussions’ about my future with the team. This call just confirmed it’s no longer a threat — it’s a plan in motion unless I ‘correct the situation.’”
The clinical phrasing made Sunny’s stomach turn. “Correct the situation,” she repeated numbly. “Meaning me.”
“This isn’t on you,” Liam insisted, rising from his desk to take her hands in his. “This is about narrow-minded executives protecting their brand at all costs — even throwing away nearly twenty years of loyalty.”
But the guilt had already taken root, twisting like a knife in her chest. Every tabloid headline, every whispered comment from other parents at school, every troubled look on the girls’ faces when they noticed the tension — it all led back to her presence in their lives.
“I should go,” she murmured, pulling her hands from his. “You’ll be late for practice.”
His fingers caught her wrist. “Sunny—”
“We’ll talk later,” she promised, not meeting his eyes.
Later never came. The morning dissolved into a blur of lunch-packing and permission slip-signing, of Maddie’s silent brooding and Hailey’s forced cheerfulness. As Sunny shepherded them toward the car, Beth appeared with a basket of folded laundry.
“Don’t forget Maddie has her dentist appointment at three,” the housekeeper reminded her. “I’ve left the insurance card on the counter.”
Sunny nodded, grateful for Beth’s steady presence. The older woman had become a quiet ally in the weeks since the scandal broke, deftly deflecting nosy questions from delivery people and neighbors, shielding the girls from whispered gossip when possible.
“Thanks, Beth. I’ll get her there on time.”
Beth cast a critical eye over Sunny’s thin frame. “And perhaps stop for lunch yourself afterward? You’re fading away before our eyes.”
The gentle concern nearly broke Sunny’s composure. She managed a tight smile and herded the girls toward the car before emotion could overwhelm her.
School drop-off was an exercise in avoidance. Sunny kept her head high as she guided Maddie and Hailey toward the entrance, painfully aware of the stares from other parents, the hushed conversations that abruptly halted as she passed.
“Bye, sweetie,” she said, kissing Hailey’s forehead. “Have a wonderful day.”
Hailey threw her arms around Sunny’s waist. “Can we have pizza night tonight? With the special cheese daddy likes?”
“We’ll see,” Sunny hedged, her heart squeezing at the simple request. Would she even be here for dinner? The thought had been circling her mind like a vulture since Parker’s call.
Maddie hung back, unusually withdrawn. At six, she possessed a preternatural awareness of adult tensions.
“Maddie?” Sunny prompted. “You okay, sweetie?”
The little girl shrugged, eyes downcast. “Jamie said her mom thinks you’re going to leave soon. Like all the other nannies they know.”
A memory flashed through Sunny’s mind — herself at seven, sitting on the steps of a foster home with a small suitcase as a social worker tried to explain why the Clarks couldn’t keep her anymore.
“Sometimes adults make promises they can’t keep,” the woman had said, her tone so rehearsed it held no comfort.
“It doesn’t mean they don’t care about you. ”
Sunny had nodded, pretending to understand, while inside her heart splintered with the certainty that she was unwanted, unkeepable. She’d memorized the feeling — the hollow pit in her stomach, the burning behind her eyes, the way her fingers went numb from clutching the suitcase handle too tightly.
Now, looking into Maddie’s worried eyes, Sunny recognized the same fear taking root. She knelt down, taking the girl’s small hands in hers.
“Jamie’s mom doesn’t know anything about us,” she said firmly. “About how much I care about you and Hailey.”
“So you’re not leaving?” Maddie’s voice was small, hopeful.
The question lodged in Sunny’s throat. She couldn’t lie to this child who had already endured so much loss, but she couldn’t bear to confirm her fears either.
“How about we talk about this tonight?” she offered instead. “With your dad, too. Right now, you need to go learn something amazing to tell me about later.”
Maddie nodded reluctantly and trudged toward the entrance, casting one last uncertain glance over her shoulder before disappearing inside.
Sunny returned to her car, hands shaking so badly she had to try twice to get the key in the ignition.
A dull throb had started behind her eyes, the familiar tension headache that had become her constant companion.
She dug through her purse for the bottle of pain relievers she now carried everywhere, swallowing two pills dry.
The empty house felt cavernous around her.
Sunny wandered from room to room, touching objects that had become precious touchstones — a finger painting Hailey had proudly presented last week, the math test with Maddie’s perfect score magnetized to the refrigerator, Liam’s worn Coyotes sweatshirt thrown carelessly over a kitchen chair.
In the girls’ bathroom, she paused, staring at the careful arrangement of bath toys and character toothbrushes.
She remembered the first time she’d given the girls a bath, how Hailey had laughed with abandon as Sunny created a shampoo mohawk on her head, how Maddie had solemnly explained the precise soap-to-water ratio necessary for optimal bubbles.
The memory squeezed her heart with cruel precision.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Liam: Practice ended early. Coach benched me. Coming home.
The terse message spoke volumes. If Coach Hendricks was benching his veteran player during practice, the situation was even worse than she’d feared.
Sunny moved to Liam’s office, drawn by a need to understand the full scope of what they were facing.
His laptop sat open on the desk, emails visible on the screen.
She hesitated, ethical boundaries warring with concern, before her eyes caught on a message from Mike, Liam’s agent: Toronto called again.
They’re serious about the offer. Might be time to consider.
Toronto. Across the continent. Away from everything the girls knew.
Another email, from the Coyotes’ PR department, contained talking points for an upcoming press conference — bland corporatese about “refocusing on hockey fundamentals” and “prioritizing team dynamics.” Reading between the lines, Sunny understood the subtext: Liam was being offered a script to publicly distance himself from her.
Her chest tightened painfully, each breath shallower than the last. She sank into Liam’s chair, the room tilting slightly as dizzy spots danced at the edges of her vision.
This was what loving her was costing him — his career, his reputation, his daughters’ stability. The realization crystallized with perfect, terrible clarity.
She’d spent her childhood being shuttled from home to home, each transition breaking off another piece of her that never quite grew back.
She knew firsthand the damage of impermanence, of watching adults you trusted disappear from your life.
The possibility of inflicting that same trauma on Maddie and Hailey was unbearable.
But so was the alternative — staying and watching as Liam’s career imploded, as the girls faced increasing isolation and whispers, as the family’s stability crumbled around them.
With sudden resolve, Sunny moved to her room and pulled out the small duffle bag she kept in her closet.
She began to fill it methodically — just essentials, nothing that couldn’t be replaced.
Her hands moved on autopilot, selecting items while her mind raced ahead to logistics.
She would need more gas for the car, would need to arrange to collect her things later, would need to write letters to the girls explaining why she’d gone.
Each item she placed in the bag felt like excising a piece of her own heart.
The photo frame from her nightstand — Maddie and Hailey flanking her on the beach, all three laughing into the camera — was the hardest. She ran her finger over their captured joy, a frozen moment of happiness before everything unraveled.
The sound of the front door opening jolted her from her reverie.