"Then try. And know that your father and I are here. Whatever happens, we're here for both of you."
"What will Dad say?"
"Your father is thrilled someone's finally helping you carry the load. Though he'll probably want to have a conversation with Easton about expectations and respect." She smiled. "That's what fathers do."
I laughed despite my nerves. "Poor Easton."
"He'll survive. Your father coached him. This is just different coaching."
"Mom? Thank you. For not judging me. For supporting this."
"Oh, sweetheart." Mom's eyes grew bright. "I've watched you struggle alone for too long. If Easton makes you happy, if he's good to Casey, if he shows up when it matters, then I'm thrilled. You deserve a partnership. You deserve joy. And you definitely deserve someone who fixes your faucets without being asked."
I smiled through my tears. "He did that."
"See? He's a keeper." Mom stood, gathering her purse. "Now, when you move, do you need help packing? Or are you going to overthink this for another week first?"
"I'll let you know."
"That's my girl." She kissed my forehead. "And Palisade? I'm proud of you. For choosing to be brave. For letting yourself be loved. That takes real courage."
I smiled, something warm blooming in my chest. Maybe Mom was right. Maybe choosing to try was its own kind of courage.
Thanksgiving
Moving in together had been the right decision. What started as a shield during the media storm had developed into something permanent. A choice we made together at the lookout that night. We'd found our rhythm, Easton and me balancing Casey's needs, building trust through small decisions and important ones. His condo felt like home now, not just his space that we were borrowing.
Easton hadn't formally asked me about marriage since Casey brought it up, but at the lookout, he'd promised me forever. "This is just the beginning," he'd said, his body still tangled with mine under the stars. "I'm not letting either of you go." That was enough for now. I knew where we were heading, knew he wanted forever as much as I did. When he was ready to make it official, he would. I could be patient.
Easton's legal team had moved swiftly after the press conference. Cease-and-desist letters went out to the mostaggressive outlets, and his security consultant worked with the clinic to establish better protocols. The photographers who'd broken into the clinic faced trespassing charges. But it was our decision to speak publicly, to present ourselves as a united family, that truly changed everything.
The captaincy situation had resolved itself, too, though not in the way any of us expected. Beck had held the position for exactly two weeks before the team voted to reinstate Easton.
And now, this was our first Thanksgiving as a family. My parents, Easton's mother, and sister.
The aroma of roasting turkey and my father's famous cornbread stuffing filled the condo as I adjusted the centerpiece on the dining table one last time.
I couldn't keep my fingers from fidgeting.
I'd moved the centerpiece three times. The forks… were they straight? I checked again.
"Mom, you moved the flowers again," Casey pointed out, her voice carrying that blend of exasperation and amusement only a six-year-old can master. She stood in the doorway in her burgundy Thanksgiving dress, hair neatly braided.
"I want everything to be perfect," I admitted, smoothing a non-existent wrinkle from the tablecloth.
Casey tilted her head, studying me with those perceptive blue eyes. "Grandma and Grandpa already love me. Grandma Margaret will love me, too! Why do you keep moving the flowers?"
I kneeled at her level, adjusting the collar of her dress. "You're right. I'm being silly."
The truth was more complicated than I could explain to Casey. This wasn't just any Thanksgiving. It was the first holiday with everyone knowing the truth about her parentage. The first gathering of the Honors and Henley families as oneunit, connected by this bright-eyed child, who bounced with excitement at having her entire family together.
"Palisade, honey, where did you put the good gravy boat?" My mother's voice carried from the kitchen, followed by the familiar click of cabinets opening and closing.
"Third cabinet from the left, top shelf!" I called back, rising from Casey's level.
Through the kitchen doorway, I could see Easton and my father standing near the counter, their heads bent in conversation. My father's hand rested on Easton's shoulder in that familiar coaching gesture, and whatever he was saying made Easton nod seriously. The sight made my chest tight. These were two of the most important men in my life, connected now by more than hockey.
The doorbell rang, and Casey squealed. "That's Grandma Margaret and Aunt Holly!"
