"Shhh, none of that." I smoothed her hair back. "The important thing is you're safe."
"Because Uncle Easton saved me." Casey turned to look at him, her six-year-old directness cutting through everything. "You jumped in even though it was freezing. You could have gotten hurt, too. Why?"
Easton's throat worked as he swallowed hard. "Because you matter to me, Casey. You matter more than you know."
Casey's eyes drifted closed, as if exhaustion was pulling her under. "Will you stay? Both of you?"
"Yes," we said in unison.
I settled into the uncomfortable chair beside Casey's bed, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest. Easton took the other chair, and for a long time, neither of us spoke. We sat there in the dim hospital room, listening to the beep of monitors and the muffled sounds of the hospital beyond the door.
Around midnight, a nurse came in to check Casey's vitals. She smiled at us and whispered, “Everything looks good. You should both get some rest."
Neither of us moved. How could we? Casey had nearly drowned. Had been under that dark water, fighting for her life. The image of her small hand breaking the surface would haunt me for years.
"I keep seeing it," I said after the nurse left. I wasn’t sure if I was talking to Easton or myself. "Her going under. The way the ice just… gave way."
"Me too," Easton said quietly.
The silence stretched between us, broken only by the steady beep of Casey's heart monitor.
"It's my fault." The words came out before I could stop them, raw and jagged.
Easton's head snapped toward me. "What?"
"I should have been watching her more closely." My voice cracked. "I saw her drifting. I called out, but I was too far away, too slow. I should have—"
"Palisade, stop." Easton's voice hardened. "This wasn't your fault."
"She disobeyed because she wanted to impress you." The tears I'd been holding back finally spilled over. "She pushed herself too far, trying to make the spin perfect, and I let her. I was distracted, talking to you…"
"Hey." Easton stood and moved around Casey's bed, crouching beside my chair. His hand found mine in the darkness. "Look at me."
I forced myself to meet his eyes.
"Casey is six years old," he said quietly. "Six-year-olds push boundaries. They test limits. They make impulsive decisions because their brains literally aren't developed enough to fully understand consequences yet. This. Was. Not. Your. Fault."
"But if I'd been faster, I could have stopped her."
"If you'd been faster, you would have gone through the ice too. The ice wouldn't have held both of you." His grip on my hand tightened. "When I saw her go under, I…" He stopped, jaw working. "If you'd both been in the water, I don't know if I could have…"
He didn't finish the sentence. Didn't need to.
"You're an incredible mother," Easton continued, his voice rough and gritty. "You've raised an amazing kid who's brave and smart and passionate about the things she loves. Today was an accident. A terrifying accident. But it wasn't your fault."
"I don't know what I would have done if…" My voice broke. "If you hadn't been there. If she'd…"
"But I was there." Easton moved closer, still crouched beside my chair, his face inches from mine now. "And she's okay. We're all okay."
His thumb traced small circles on the back of my hand, the gesture both comforting and electric. In the dim light of the hospital room, with Casey sleeping peacefully between us, the walls I'd so carefully constructed around my heart crumbled.
"Easton," I said, not even sure what I was asking for.
His free hand came up to cup my face, thumb brushing away a tear I hadn't realized had fallen. "Palisade."
The way he said my name made my breath catch.
We were so close now. Close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his blue eyes. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him. Close enough that if either of us moved even slightly, our lips would meet.
