Sunny
Five days. Five days since she’d walked away from the Anderson home, from the life she’d begun to build, from the family that had somehow become her own. Five days of alternating between numbing emptiness and searing pain that threatened to split her chest in two.
The cabin was nothing special: a small A-frame with weathered wooden siding and windows that rattled when the wind picked up.
Rustic. Remote. Perfect for disappearing.
Which was exactly what she’d intended when she’d booked it three days ago, unable to settle, unable to plan beyond the next meal, the next hour.
Lake Willow had been a random choice, a pin dropped on a map when she couldn’t bear another night of staring at the cracked ceiling of her tiny apartment.
But even here, at the edge of this serene lake miles from Kansas City, she couldn’t outrun the memories. They followed her like shadows, longer and darker as the day waned.
“Start with the smallest pieces at the bottom,” his voice echoed in her memory. “Like building anything that lasts — you need a solid foundation.”
A solid foundation. The irony wasn’t lost on her.
As flames caught and began to lick upward, Sunny’s gaze drifted to the small side table where she’d placed the unexpected stowaway she’d discovered while unpacking her hastily gathered belongings.
Betty Bear sat propped against the lamp, her well-loved fur matted in places, one glass eye slightly looser than the other.
Maddie’s most treasured possession — the last gift Kate had given her before dying.
Sunny had found her tucked at the bottom of her duffle bag, a discovery that had made her breath catch when she’d pulled the stuffed animal free.
At first, she’d been confused — had she accidentally packed one of Maddie’s toys in her rush to leave? But the folded note tucked under Betty’s worn pink ribbon told a different story. In Hailey’s wobbly kindergarten writing:
For Sunni, So yoo wont be lonlee.
Sunny’s fingers had trembled as she’d traced each misspelled word. The careful, determined letters had blurred through her tears, and she’d clutched the bear to her chest, muffling her sobs against its worn fur until her throat was raw and her eyes burned.
Sweet, perceptive Hailey. Somehow knowing that Sunny would be just as lonely as they were. And she was right. Despite the tranquility of the lake, despite the space to breathe without feeling like she was drowning in memories, Sunny had never felt more alone.
What was she doing here? Running away had solved nothing. The distance hadn’t diminished her feelings; it had only clarified them. She loved them — all of them. And leaving them had been the hardest thing she’d ever done.
But what choice did she have? Liam had made his position clear. His career, his daughters’ stability — those were his priorities. And she couldn’t fault him for that. After everything he’d been through, after losing Kate so suddenly, his caution was understandable. His fear was valid.
And yet… the hollow look in Maddie’s eyes as she’d realized Sunny was leaving.
Hailey’s desperate grip on her legs. The way Liam had stood in the doorway, watching her drive away, his face a mask of resignation.
Had she misread the situation? Had she been too quick to accept his acquiescence as his true desire?
A sharp knock on the cabin door jolted Sunny from her thoughts. Her pulse jumped, stomach flipping as if she’d missed a step on a staircase. Who could possibly be here? The rental office had closed hours ago, and she hadn’t seen another soul since checking in.
Cautiously, she approached the door, peering through the small window beside it. The porch light wasn’t on, making it difficult to see more than a silhouette — tall, broad-shouldered, achingly familiar.
Impossible.
Sunny’s fingers hovered over the doorknob, frozen in place. Blood rushed in her ears, drowning out the soft lapping of waves against the shore outside. It couldn’t be. And yet, as the figure shifted slightly, the fading daylight caught his profile, confirming what her racing heart already knew.
Liam.
Liam Anderson was standing on her porch, two hours from home, miles from where anyone would think to look for her.
For a long moment, Sunny couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Her lungs refused to expand, as if the air had suddenly become too thick.
How had he found her? Why was he here? What did this mean?
Another knock, more hesitant this time, broke her paralysis.
With a trembling hand, she unlocked the door but didn’t open it fully — leaving just enough space to peer through, maintaining a physical barrier that matched the emotional wall she’d built since leaving.
“What are you doing here?” she managed, her voice emerging steadier than she felt.
Liam looked exhausted — deep shadows beneath his eyes, stubble darkening his jaw.
He wore the charcoal suit she’d only seen him in for press events, though it was rumpled now, the collar askew, the tie long since abandoned.
In one hand, he clutched a small bouquet of wildflowers, clearly gathered from the roadside, their stems unevenly broken rather than cut.
“Sunny,” he said her name reverently. “I found you.”
Those three simple words contained such raw emotion that Sunny’s grip tightened on the door frame, her knuckles whitening.
“How?” she asked, still not opening the door wider, still maintaining that crucial distance.
Liam’s lips curved in a sad, tired smile. “Betty Bear,” he said, nodding toward the inside of the cabin. “After Kate gave her to Maddie, we kept losing her. So I put a tracker inside her. In case she ever got lost again.”
Sunny blinked, processing the information. Her eyes darted to the stuffed animal still propped against the lamp, then back to Liam.
“Hailey put her in your bag before you left,” Liam explained. “She wanted you to have something… something so you wouldn’t be alone.”
The revelation hit Sunny with physical force. She took a small step back, steadying herself against the door. Hailey hadn’t just given her a stuffed animal for comfort — she’d unknowingly given her father the means to find her.
“But I don’t understand,” Sunny said, her voice finally betraying her confusion. “Why are you here, Liam? We said everything that needed to be said.”
“No,” Liam countered, taking a small step forward, his shoulders squaring. “We didn’t. Not even close.”
Lightning flashed in the distance, illuminating the lake behind him for a brief, electric moment. The air felt charged, heavy with impending rain and unspoken words.
“Can I come in?” he asked. “Please? I’ve driven for hours and…” he trailed off, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “I need to talk to you, Sunny. Face to face.”
She should say no. She should close the door, lock it, retreat back into the solitude she’d sought. That would be the smart thing, the self-preserving thing.
Instead, she found herself stepping back, the door opening wider of its own accord. Her body made the decision her mind was still wrestling with.
As Liam entered, the small cabin seemed to shrink, his presence filling every corner.
His height, normally a comfort, now emphasized how little space there was between them.
He looked out of place in his suit among the rustic furnishings, like a corporate executive who’d wandered onto a camping trip.
“You look tired,” she observed, taking the wildflowers he offered automatically. The stems were damp against her fingers, their petals still beaded with moisture.
“I haven’t slept much,” he admitted. “Not since you left.”
Sunny moved to the kitchenette, busying herself with finding something to put the flowers in. Every movement felt deliberate, a dance of avoidance. “The girls?” she asked, her back to him as she filled a mason jar with water.
“They miss you,” Liam said simply. “More than I can express.”
Her hands faltered, water sloshing over the rim as she set the jar down. A peculiar pressure built behind her sternum, both sharp and dull at once. “And whose fault is that?” The question emerged sharper than she’d meant, edged with five days of accumulated hurt.
“Mine,” Liam answered without hesitation. “It’s my fault, Sunny. All of it.”
The frankness of his admission caught her off guard.
She turned to face him, really looking at him for the first time since he’d arrived.
The confident, composed player was nowhere to be seen.
In his place stood a man undone — hair mussed as if he’d repeatedly run his hands through it, suit wrinkled, eyes rimmed with red.
He looked diminished somehow, vulnerable in a way that made her chest ache despite her resolve to remain detached.
“Why are you here?” she asked again, softer this time.
Liam took a deep breath, his chest expanding visibly beneath his wrinkled shirt.
“Because I made the biggest mistake of my life when I let you go. Because my daughters haven’t smiled in five days.
Because I realized, far too late, that I was never protecting them by pushing you away — I was only protecting myself. ”
Thunder rumbled outside, closer now, the storm approaching just as the emotional tempest between them intensified.
“From what?” Sunny challenged, arms crossed protectively over her chest, fingers digging into her biceps. “What were you protecting yourself from, Liam?”
His eyes — those piercing blue eyes that had first captivated her during their interview — met hers directly. “From loving someone and losing them again. From risking the kind of pain I felt when Kate died. From…” his voice lowered, almost inaudible, “from being vulnerable.”
Sunny’s crossed arms loosened slightly, her fingertips easing their pressure. Hadn’t she done the same thing, in her own way? Running when things got hard, expecting rejection because it was all she’d known growing up?