I ended the call and turned to find Palisade standing in the doorway, two cups of terrible hospital coffee in her hands.
"Talking to the team?" She asked, offering me one.
"Yeah. They want to come by before the scrimmage this afternoon. Bring Casey some things." I paused. "Is that okay? I should have asked you first."
Palisade's eyes softened. "Easton, you saved my daughter's life. You can bring the entire NHL roster if you want."
"Just the Shadow Wolves," I assured her with a small smile. "I thought it might cheer her up. Help her remember that ice isn't scary. It's also where magic happens."
"That's…" Palisade's voice cracked slightly. "That's really thoughtful."
We stood there in the hallway, drinking awful coffee. I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to go back to my empty apartment and pretend yesterday hadn't changed everything either.
Because it had.
The moment I'd seen Casey fall through that ice, something fundamental had shifted inside me. The protective instinct that kicked in wasn't about doing the right thing, or community service, or being a decent human being.
It was deeper than that.
More primal.
Like I'd risk anything to keep that kid safe.
The hallway felt too quiet. Too intimate. Palisade wrapped both hands around her coffee cup, staring at the floor.
"About last night—" she started.
"Don't." I kept my voice gentle. "We don't have to talk about it."
"But—"
"We were scared. Exhausted. Running on adrenaline." Even as I said it, I knew it was a lie. Last night hadn't been about adrenaline. We still had something between us that had never left seven years ago. "Let's just get through today first."
She nodded as if in relief.
A couple of hours later, the hospital room door burst open. Casey's small space was filled with very large hockey players.
Beck Hamilton's towering frame was first through the door, followed by Aaron Waters and three more players from the team. They were all wearing Shadow Wolves sweatshirts and carrying wrapped packages.
Casey, who'd been picking at her breakfast, froze. Her mouth dropped open.
"Oh my God," she breathed.
"Easy there, superstar," I said, moving to her bedside. "A few friends wanted to meet our newest honorary team member."
Beck stepped forward, holding an enormous stuffed wolf wearing a tiny Shadow Wolves jersey. "We heard you had a pretty scary adventure this weekend. Thought you might like some company."
Casey's eyes were as wide as saucers as she accepted the stuffed wolf, clutching it to her chest like it might disappear. "Beck! Thank you!"
Beck grinned, clearly delighted. "You're welcome, kiddo. Did you know you're the bravest six-year-old in Amber Falls?"
"Almost seven," Casey corrected automatically, then seemed to remember where she was and who she was talking to. Her cheeks flushed pink.
Aaron Waters stepped forward next, presenting a Shadow Wolves ball cap covered in signatures. "From the entire team," he announced with a wink. "Welcome to the family."
The other players followed with their own gifts: a team pennant, a puck from their last home game, a tiny replica of the championship trophy. Casey received each one with increasing disbelief, the trauma from yesterday momentarily forgotten.
I stood back, watching the scene unfold. These professional athletes had shown up because I'd asked them to. Because Casey mattered.
