"Oh my God," she whispered. "You're Easton Henley."
"Uh, yeah. Hi. Is your mom—"
"MOM!" the girl shrieked, never taking her eyes off me. "MOM, EASTON HENLEY IS AT OUR DOOR!"
She grabbed my free hand and physically yanked me inside with surprising strength for someone so small.
"You're really him. You're really Easton Henley. From the Shadow Wolves. Number seventeen. Center. Forty-two goals last season and…" She stopped, gasped, bouncing on her toes. And gave an ear-piercing scream, "This is the best day of my entire life!"
"Casey, what are you—" Palisade appeared from the kitchen, stopping dead when she saw me standing in her entryway, her daughter attached to my hand. "Easton? What are you doing here?"
"I came to apologize," I said, holding up the takeout bag. "For today. I know you said we'd talk tomorrow, but I couldn't leave it. I brought food?”
Palisade looked between Casey and me, clearly torn between throwing me out and not wanting to disappoint her daughter.
"Uncle Easton brought us dinner!" Casey announced, as if this was already decided. "Can he stay? Please? Please, please, please?"
"Uncle Easton?" I repeated.
"Aunt Holly's your sister, right? And she's my aunt, so that makes you my uncle. We watch your games all the time when she comes over." Casey explained with six-year-old logic. "Plus, you're basically famous, so that's even cooler!"
Palisade closed her eyes briefly, as if mentally counting to ten.
"Casey, let go of Easton's hand."
"But Mom!"
"Now, please."
Casey released me reluctantly, still staring at me like I'd descended from hockey heaven.
Palisade stepped closer, lowering her voice. "You shouldn't be here."
"I know. But I needed to apologize properly. Not at the clinic, not with staff around. Just let me say what I came to say, and then I'll leave if you want me to."
She studied my face, then sighed. "You can apologize. But you're not staying for dinner."
"Mom!" Casey looked devastated.
"Casey, go wash your hands. Now."
Casey trudged toward the bathroom, shooting me hopeful looks over her shoulder.
Once she was gone, Palisade crossed her arms. "You can't show up at my house, Easton."
"I know. I'm sorry. But I needed you to hear this. What happened today wasn't supposed to go down. I specifically told my agent no press, no publicity. He went behind my back because he thought it would be good for my image. I chewed him out for five minutes and told him if it happens again, he's fired."
Her eyebrows rose. "You did?"
"I called him from the parking lot. His job was to keep the press away from the clinic." I set the food on the small table by the door. "I know that doesn't undo today, but I want you to know I'm taking this seriously. Your clinic, your privacy, Casey's privacy."
"Why?" The question came out softer than I expected. "Why does it matter to you?"
"Because you're Holly's best friend. You didn't have to give me a chance to work at the clinic, but you did. And because…" I trailed off, glancing toward the bathroom where Casey had disappeared. "Because dragging a kid into a media circus is the last thing I'd ever want to do."
Something changed in Palisade's expression. It wasn’t forgiveness exactly, but understanding.
"Okay," she said. "Apology accepted. But next time, call first."
