Page 89 of Landing Liam
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.”
