“I’ll be outside talking to your mom for a bit, okay?” I told Casey. “But I’ll come say goodnight before I leave.”
“Okay.” She was already refocusing on the penguins.
Palisade grabbed a jacket from the hook by the door. “We’ll be on the back porch, Dad.”
He nodded, his expression knowing. “Take your time.”
The back porch was small, barely big enough for two chairs and a side table. The November air was chilly enough that I could see my breath, but Palisade didn’t seem to notice. She leaned against the railing, arms wrapped around herself.
“So,” she said, not looking at me. “What did you want to talk about?”
Might as well rip the Band-Aid off. “They suspended my captaincy today.”
Her head snapped up, eyes wide. “What? Because of yesterday?”
“Because of yesterday. And the pattern they say they’re seeing.” I leaned against the railing beside her, not quite touching. “Greg called it sending a message.”
“Oh God, Easton.” Her voice cracked. “I’m so sorry. I know how much that meant to you.”
“It’s temporary. Supposedly. But we both know what ’temporary’ means.”
She turned to face me fully. “What can I do? I’ll talk to them. I’ll explain that you were protecting Casey.”
“That’s not why I’m here.” I cut her off gently. “I’m here because I need to tell you what I’m going to do next.”
She waited, those green eyes searching my face.
“Management wants me to issue a statement,” I continued. “Something that apologizes for the ’incident’, acknowledges the photographer’s concerns, and basically admits I was wrong to handle it the way I did.”
“That’s ridiculous. You were protecting our daughter.”
“That’s what I said. But they don’t care about that. They care about optics. Image. Liability.” I pulled out my phone and showed her the statement they’d prepared. “This is what they want me to say.”
She reads it, her expression darkening with each line. “This is bullshit. It makes it sound like Casey was an inconvenience. Like you regret defending her.”
“Exactly.” I slipped the phone into my pocket. “So, I’m not signing it.”
Palisade’s eyes widened. “You’re not?”
“No, I’m issuing a different statement. One that tells the truth. That Casey isn’t a secret I kept; she’s a daughter I didn’t knowabout. That you’re not a gold digger, you’re a woman who made a choice out of fear. Casey is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m not apologizing for defending her.”
She stared at me, speechless.
“It’ll probably cost me more than the captaincy,” I continued. “Greg made it pretty clear that if I don’t play ball, there will be consequences. I might not have a job after this season. My reputation will take a hit. Endorsements will probably dry up. But…”
“You can’t do that.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Easton, your career—”
“Is not more important than Casey knowing her father chose her. That you know I’m not ashamed of either of you.”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “But you’re still angry at me. You said so yourself. You haven’t forgiven me for keeping her from you.”
“I haven’t,” I admitted. “And I don’t know if I ever fully will. But that doesn’t change what I need to do tomorrow.”
“Why?” She was crying now, tears streaming down her face. “Why would you sacrifice everything for someone you’re still angry at?”
I took a step closer, closing the distance between us. “Because anger and love aren’t mutually exclusive, Sadie. I can be furious with you for the choices you made and still choose to defend you. I can grieve the years I lost and still fight for the years we have left.”
“I don’t deserve that,” she said. “I don’t deserve you defending me after what I did.”
