"Yes," I said into her hair. "He does."
Down on the ice, the scrimmage wrapped up. Players were skating toward the locker room, but Easton broke away from the group and skated to a stop directly below our box. He looked up at us, and his expression was so tender, so full of emotion, it made my chest ache.
He pressed his gloved hand to his chest, then pointed up at us. A silent message.
My heart. You two.
Casey waved enthusiastically, and I managed a smile despite the tears threatening to spill over.
This was the life I'd imagined seven years ago when I'd discovered I was pregnant. The three of us together. A family, connected and whole and happy.
But I'd built it on lies.
And when it crumbled, I didn't know if any of us would survive the fall.
"Can we come back next week?" Casey asked with a sleepy tone; the excitement seemed to catch up with her. "For another scrimmage?"
"We'll see, baby," I said, kissing the top of her head.
How many more weeks do we have before everything falls apart?
The thought tumbled out of my head as we cleaned up our mess in the private box.
For now, though, I would hold my daughter close. I would accept Easton's kindness. I would let us all have this moment of grace before the reckoning came.
Because it was coming.
The truth was like the ice at Lake Chambeau. A solid surface hiding dangerous cracks beneath, waiting to give way and plunge us all into freezing darkness.
CHAPTER NINE
Palisade
Later that night, a scream ripped through the house.
Casey.
I was on my feet before I was fully awake.
Disoriented, I stumbled out of bed, but my racing heart guided me by instinct toward her room.
"Casey? Baby, what's wrong?" I called, flipping on her bedside lamp.
Casey sat bolt upright, her small body trembling, tears streaming down her face. Her blue eyes were wide with terror and unfocused, as if still trapped in her nightmare.
"I couldn't get out," she sobbed, her words coming in gasps. "The ice was closing over me, and I couldn't breathe! Nobody could hear me scream."
"Oh, sweetheart." I gathered her into my arms as her heart hammered against my chest. "It was just a dream. You're safe now. I've got you."
I stroked her hair, murmuring reassurances as she clung to me. The hospital had warned me she might experience nightmares after her accident at the lake. The trauma of falling through the ice, of that moment of terror before Easton pulled her out.
"I don't wanna go back to sleep," Casey whimpered against my neck. "What if I fall through the ice again?"
I pulled her closer. "You won't, baby. You're safe in your bed. And I'm right here."
She pulled back, her face streaked with tears, determined. "I don't want to play hockey anymore."
The words hit me like a physical blow. Casey had been obsessed with hockey since she could walk. She practiced constantly in our driveway, asking for skating lessons before she could even tie her shoes.
