Page 85 of Landing Liam

“Make sure it’s a number that works for you,” I counter, my voice firm but kind. “You seem happy here.”

She nods, her smile growing softer. “I like my space.”

I chuckle, the familiarity of her statement hitting home. Emmy’s always been like this—valuing her privacy, her independence. She hated growing up in a house where everyone knew everyone else’s business. In so many ways, she’s always been more like Dad than Mom.

“You coming to my retirement party?” I ask her, leaning casually against the doorframe.

She sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes. “I guess I have to now that you’re selling me your condo in a prime mountain tourist zip code.”

“Good,” I say with a smirk, nodding in approval. “One less thing to nag you about.”

She laughs lightly before turning back to her photograph, her long auburn hair spilling over her shoulder. “You better go before I start charging you for interrupting my workflow.”

“Fine,” I reply with mock seriousness. “But lock the door this time, Em. Anyone could have walked in.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waves me off with a flick of her wrist, her attention already back on her work.

I linger for just a moment longer, watching her. There’s a quiet contentment in her face that makes me feel like I’m doing the right thing. One more check off the list. Tomorrow, I’ll start looking for a new house—something that feels like the next chapter of my life.

And then? Then I go see Maggie.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Maggie

Janowicz calls me into his office, and I take a steadying breath. Somehow, I’ve managed to break the biggest sports story of the year.

The newsroom is a flurry of hushed conversations and clacking keyboards as I make my way down the dimly lit hall. The sound of my flats echoes off the tile, each step fueling the nerves twisting in my stomach. This is it. He’s either going to offer me the dream job with better pay—or the same pay. Either way, I need to figure out what I actually want before I sit down in front of him.

The moment I step into his office, the distinct smell of stale coffee and lingering cigarette smoke hits me. Janowicz is perched behind his desk, a crooked, unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. His desk is a chaotic mess of papers, coffee mugs, and an ashtray that hasn’t been emptied in weeks.

“How’s your sister?” I ask as I take a seat in the worn, lumpy chair across from him. It creaks under my weight.

He shrugs, his eyes scanning a folder in front of him. “Family is... family.”

I nod, understanding that sentiment all too well. The silence hangs heavy between us, so I cut straight to the point. “Did you like the article?”

Janowicz leans back in his chair, his sharp eyes sizing me up like he’s still deciding how he feels about me. “It was good.”

I let out a disbelieving laugh. “Good?”

“You broke a story.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “Not the story I sent you to write, but at least you didn’t come back empty-handed.”

The way he says it makes my chest deflate. “So, you would’ve preferred I wrote a hit piece about a snowboarding legend supposedly climbing to the top with illegal substances?”

He shrugs again, this time more dramatically. “Would’ve sold more papers.”

My stomach twists. What kind of journalist do I want to be? Someone who chases dark leads at any cost? Or someone who tells stories that remind people of their shared humanity?

“You were fed bad information,” I remind him firmly. “If I’d written that story, you’d have put this entire paper’s credibility at risk.”

He waves me off with a deflated groan. “We’d have slapped the word allegedly on it. Keeps the lawyers happy.”

The man I once admired feels like a stranger in this moment. I swallow the lump forming in my throat and square my shoulders. “What’s next?”

Janowicz rests his elbows on his cluttered desk. His gaze narrows like he’s sizing up a chessboard. “That depends, Cooper. You hungry for more stories like this? Or are you gonna keep getting soft?”

His words settle into the air, and I realize he’s not asking me about my next assignment. He’s asking me who I am. Who I want to be. And for the first time, I know the answer.