Liam
He moved quietly through the hallway to his daughters’ room first. They slept peacefully, Hailey sprawled across her bed like a starfish, one arm flung over her favorite stuffed unicorn. Maddie lay curled around Betty Bear, the worn stuffed animal back after its journey to Lake Willow and back.
His feet carried him unconsciously up the stairs to Sunny’s door. His hand rose, hovering inches from the wood, fingers curled to knock.
What would he even say if she answered? Sorry I woke you, I just needed to see your face and make sure you’re really here?
Pathetic. And probably terrifying for her.
With an effort, Liam lowered his hand and stepped back. Patience. That’s what he’d promised her, what she deserved after what he’d put her through. Space to find her footing again, time to rebuild her trust in him. He couldn’t rush this, not if he wanted it to last.
Back downstairs, the kitchen was still and quiet, moonlight giving way to the soft blue light of early morning.
Liam flicked on the under-cabinet lights, determined to make breakfast for once.
How hard could pancakes be? Sunny made them look effortless, crafting perfect blueberry smiles on fluffy circles that made the girls squeal with delight.
He pulled out bowls, measuring cups, the flour that somehow puffed up in a small cloud as he opened the bag. After consulting a recipe on his phone, he began mixing ingredients with careful precision, like an inexperienced chemist afraid of causing an explosion.
The first pancake was a disaster — half-raw in the center, burned on the edges. The second wasn’t much better. By the fourth attempt, he’d managed something vaguely circular, but the blueberry face he tried to create looked more disturbing than delightful.
“That’s definitely a crime against breakfast foods.”
Liam startled, nearly dropping the spatula.
Sunny stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, her expression a careful blend of amusement and caution.
She wore flannel pajama pants and an oversized sweater that might have once been his, her hair tousled from sleep.
There were shadows beneath her eyes that told him her night had been as restless as his own.
Despite that, she was breathtaking.
“I was aiming for abstract art,” he replied, gesturing at the misshapen pancake with a rueful smile. “Thought I’d surprise the girls.”
“You’d surprise them, alright.” Sunny stepped into the kitchen, maintaining a careful distance. “They might never look at pancakes the same way again.”
The attempt at normalcy, at their old teasing rhythm, felt like a tiny victory. Liam held his breath, afraid to break the moment with the wrong word or gesture.
“Need help?” she asked, her voice softening.
“Desperately,” he admitted.
Before she could respond, the patter of small feet announced the girls’ arrival. They skidded to a halt in the doorway, eyes widening at the sight of Sunny in the kitchen, as if they half-expected her to have disappeared overnight.
“You’re still here!” Hailey exclaimed, launching herself across the room and wrapping her arms around Sunny’s waist.
The simple statement pierced Liam’s heart with its raw honesty. You’re still here — as if her presence was a miracle they couldn’t quite believe. How much damage had he done to their sense of security with his fear-driven decisions?
“I promised, didn’t I?” Sunny replied, her voice catching slightly as she hugged Hailey tight. Her eyes met Liam’s over the little girl’s head, a world of unspoken emotion passing between them.
Maddie approached more cautiously, Betty Bear clutched to her chest. She studied Sunny with that penetrating gaze that reminded Liam so much of Kate — seeing too much, understanding too deeply for her young years.
“Daddy’s trying to make pancakes,” she observed, glancing at the disaster zone of the counter.
“Trying being the operative word,” Liam acknowledged.
A ghost of a smile touched Sunny’s lips. “Why don’t I help? Teamwork makes the dream work, right?”
She moved to the counter beside him, automatically reaching for the bowl of batter. Their fingers brushed as he passed it to her, the brief contact sending a jolt of awareness through him. Sunny pulled back slightly, but not before he caught the flush rising in her cheeks.
The next half hour unfolded in a delicate dance of four people finding their rhythm again.
Sunny expertly rescued the pancake batter, showing Liam where he’d gone wrong.
The girls helped arrange blueberry faces under Sunny’s guidance.
What had been awkward and strained at the start gradually softened, muscle memory of their shared routines taking over.
Liam found himself mesmerized by the familiar way Sunny knew exactly how each girl liked her breakfast — Maddie’s pancakes arranged in descending size order, Hailey’s cut into bite-sized pieces with extra syrup in a separate little cup for dipping.
At one point, they both reached for the maple syrup at the same time, Liam’s hand covering Sunny’s for a brief moment. She pulled away, but not with the recoil of discomfort he’d feared. Instead, she offered a small, tentative smile that kindled hope in his chest.
It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet. But it was a start.
“School today?” Sunny asked as they cleared the breakfast dishes, her question directed at the girls but her eyes flicking uncertainly to Liam.
The question opened a logistical can of worms they hadn’t discussed. Who would take the girls? Who would pick them up? How would they handle their first public appearance together since Sunny’s return?
“I thought we could both take them,” Liam suggested, watching her reaction carefully. “If you want to, that is.”
He saw the flash of anxiety cross her face, the weight of what he was asking her to do. To step out into public with him, to face the scrutiny and judgment that had driven them apart.
“I…” Sunny hesitated, her fingers twisting nervously in the dish towel. Then, with visible resolve, she nodded. “Yes. I’d like that.”
***
The drive to school was quiet, the girls unusually subdued in the backseat as if sensing the fragile peace between the adults. Liam kept glancing at Sunny in the passenger seat, studying the tense line of her shoulders, the way she bit her lower lip as they approached the school.
As they pulled into the drop-off lane, Liam couldn’t help but notice the double-takes from other parents, the whispers behind hands, the not-so-subtle pointing. Sunny noticed too, her posture stiffening further.
“Maybe this wasn’t—” she began in a low voice.
“We have nothing to be ashamed of, ” Liam cut in gently but firmly.
They parked and walked the girls to the entrance, Liam hyper-aware of the stares following them. Near the kindergarten doors, Liam overheard a sharp-voiced mother speaking just loudly enough to be heard.
“Well, I guess being the nanny was just her audition for the role of Mrs Anderson. Talk about a promotion.”
Sunny flinched beside him, the cruel words landing like a slap. Her face paled, but she maintained her composure, focused entirely on helping Hailey with her backpack.
Liam felt a familiar heat rise in his chest — the same burning anger that had driven him to throw punches on the ice, to lash out when threatened. His first instinct was to confront the woman aggressively, to use his imposing presence to intimidate her into silence.
But then he caught sight of Sunny’s face — the quiet dignity with which she absorbed the blow without returning it. And in that moment, he understood that his old reactions wouldn’t serve the family he was trying to rebuild.
Taking a deep breath, Liam placed a gentle hand on Sunny’s shoulder before approaching the small cluster of parents. The women fell silent as he neared, their expressions a mixture of embarrassment and defiance.
“Good morning,” he said calmly, his voice pitched to carry just far enough for those who needed to hear it. “I believe we haven’t formally met. I’m Liam Anderson, Maddie and Hailey’s father.”
The blonde woman who’d made the comment shifted uncomfortably, caught between social obligation and her earlier cattiness. “Christine Porter,” she replied stiffly. “My daughter Olivia is in Maddie’s class.”
Liam nodded, maintaining steady eye contact. “I wanted to introduce myself personally, since our children are classmates. And I also wanted you to meet someone important in our lives.”
He gestured to Sunny, who approached cautiously, the girls flanking her protectively.
“This is Sunny Thompson,” Liam continued, his voice warm but firm. “The woman who helped my daughters find their smiles again after they lost their mother. The woman I love and respect, who deserves the same courtesy from our community.”
Christine’s cheeks flushed with color. Around them, other parents had fallen silent, watching the interaction with undisguised interest.
“I understand that our situation might seem unconventional,” Liam acknowledged, including the entire group in his gaze now. “But these girls have experienced enough loss for a lifetime. They deserve to be surrounded by kindness, not judgment.”
For a moment, no one spoke. Then an older woman stepped forward from the group.
“My grandson lost his mother to cancer last year,” she said quietly. “His teacher tells me your Maddie has been sitting with him at lunch, showing him her special memory book. Said it helped him not feel so alone.”
Liam felt his throat tighten with unexpected emotion. He glanced at Maddie, who was watching the interaction with solemn attention, and saw her small nod of confirmation.
“That sounds like Maddie,” Sunny said softly, pride evident in her voice as she squeezed the little girl’s shoulder.
The older woman turned to Christine and the others. “Seems to me these children are being raised with exactly the right values.”
Christine had the grace to look ashamed. “I… I apologize for my comment,” she said, not quite meeting anyone’s eyes. “It was thoughtless.”
“We’re all just trying our best,” Liam replied, the forgiveness in his tone genuine rather than forced. “That’s all any parent can do.”
As they walked away, Maddie slipped her hand into Sunny’s while Hailey took Liam’s.
“That lady was being mean about Sunny,” Maddie observed once they were out of earshot.
Liam knelt down to their level. “Sometimes people speak without thinking about how their words might hurt others. But you know what’s more important than what other people say?”
“What?” Hailey asked, her eyes wide.
“How we choose to respond,” Liam said, his gaze lifting to meet Sunny’s. “Sometimes the strongest thing we can do is respond with kindness instead of anger.”
Something shifted in Sunny’s expression — a soft recognition of how much he had changed, how he was striving to be the man they all needed him to be. For the first time since her return, her smile reached her eyes, warming him from the inside out.
After hugs and goodbyes, the girls disappeared into their classrooms, leaving Liam and Sunny alone in the suddenly quiet hallway. For a moment, neither spoke, the weight of what had just happened settling between them.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Sunny said finally.
“Yes, I did,” Liam replied without hesitation. “Last time, I let others’ opinions dictate our lives. I won’t make that mistake again.”
“Thank you,” she said simply.
Those two words, weighted with more than simple gratitude, carried them back to the car in comfortable silence.
Back home, they separated to their respective spaces — Sunny to help Beth with household tasks, Liam to his office where a backlog of calls and emails awaited. But something had changed, a small crack in the ice that had formed between them. It wasn’t quite a thaw, but it was a beginning.
Throughout the morning, Liam forced himself to focus on work, though his mind kept drifting to Sunny, wondering what she was doing, whether she was still processing the confrontation at school. His agent had left three voicemails, each more urgent than the last.
With a sigh, Liam returned the call, bracing himself for bad news about his contract situation.
“About time,” Mike grumbled as he answered. “I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.”
“Sorry. Been dealing with family things.” The explanation came easily now, without the guilt or defensiveness that would have colored it before.
“Well, you’ll want to hear this,” Mike said, his tone shifting from irritation to cautious optimism. “Management’s singing a different tune today.”
Liam sat up straighter. “How so?”
“Seems your press conference struck a chord with fans. The team’s social media has been flooded with messages supporting you — and more importantly, threats to boycott games and merchandise if they force you out.”
A hollow laugh escaped Liam. “So they’re backing down because of money, not principle.”
“Does it matter? They’re willing to ‘work with your personal situation’ now. Gerald Parker himself called me this morning, talking about ‘standing by our veteran players.’”
Once, this reversal would have filled Liam with relief. His career salvaged, his future with the team secure. Now, he found himself oddly detached from the news.
“That’s… good,” he said finally, when Mike’s expectant silence demanded a response.
“Good? It’s fantastic! We were looking at a potential career-ending situation, and now they’re practically begging you to stay.”
“I appreciate you handling it, Mike,” Liam replied, unable to muster the enthusiasm his agent clearly expected. “Keep me posted on next steps.”
After ending the call, Liam leaned back in his chair, trying to understand his own muted reaction.
The thing he’d feared losing most — his identity as a hockey player, the career he’d built over two decades — suddenly seemed secondary to what truly mattered: his daughters’ happiness and the woman who had brought light back into their home.
His gaze fell on a flash of color draped over his desk chair.
Sunny’s scarf — the soft blue one she’d wrapped around his neck one frigid morning when he’d been rushing out to practice without proper winter gear.
“Your body is your livelihood,” she’d scolded, tucking the ends neatly into his coat. “Take care of it.”
He reached for it now, the soft fabric sliding between his fingers, still carrying the faint scent of her vanilla shampoo. Something so simple, yet it embodied the countless ways she had quietly cared for all of them.