"You don't mean that," I said, careful to keep the worry from my tone. "You love hockey."
"No!" Her voice rose sharply. "I hate it! I'm never going on the ice again! Never!"
I tried every trick I knew, including soft reassurances, gentle logic, and offering to stay with her until morning. Nothing worked. Casey's sobs turned to frantic gasps while her body trembled, gripped by a dread I was entirely helpless against.
"The ice is gonna break again," she wailed. "I don't wanna die!"
"You will not die, Casey. I promise." A lump formed in my throat as her anxiety seeped into me. "What happened wasa scary accident, but the important thing is you're okay now. You're safe, baby."
"You don't understand!" She pushed away from me, her small face contorted with frustration and fear. "I can't do it anymore. I can't!"
Panic rose in my chest. Hockey wasn't just a hobby for Casey. It was her passion, her connection to friends, her favorite way to spend time with her grandfather. And if I were being honest with myself, it was also her most tangible connection to Easton.
As Casey's cries grew more frantic, a terrible blend of terror and hysteria, I understood I wasn't equipped to handle this. The memory of Easton's calm confidence when he'd rescued her from the lake, the gentle way he'd spoken to her in the hospital afterward, his voice a soothing balm… Maybe he was what she needed right now.
I reached for my phone on Casey's nightstand before second-guessing myself.
"Casey, do you want Easton to come over?" The suggestion surprised even me as it left my lips. If he could calm her, maybe it would make things better.
She hiccuped, her sobs pausing momentarily. "Uncle Easton?"
The title made my stomach twist with guilt, but I nodded, moving a strand of hair from her face. "He might understand better. He's fallen on the ice lots of times, right? And he always gets back up."
Casey sucked in her bottom lip, her breathing still uneven, a shaky inhale of slightly calming air as the hysteria receded. Her tiny nod sent a wave of relief washing through me, loosening the knot in my chest.
My finger hovered over Easton's contact. It was after midnight. Calling him crossed a boundary I'd been carefully maintaining. This wasn't about clinic business or scheduled visitation.
But as Casey's breathing hitched beside me, I knew my daughter's well-being mattered more than any of my insecurities.
I hit call before I could change my mind.
Easton
I was still awake, hunched over my laptop, reviewing game footage, when my phone lit up with Palisade's name. My heart jumped into my throat. It was late, but besides that, Palisade would never call me unless it was something important.
"Sadie? Is everything okay?" I answered immediately, already reaching for my shoes.
"It's Casey," she said, her voice trembling with an unfamiliar, strained quality. "She had a nightmare about the accident. She's saying she never wants to play hockey again, and I… I thought maybe you could help."
The vulnerability in her voice hit me hard. Palisade Honors didn't ask for help easily. Especially not from me.
"I'll be right over," I said without hesitation, already grabbing my keys and wallet. "Tell her I'm on my way."
I hung up and was out the door in under a minute, my mind racing faster than my car as I navigated the empty streets of Amber Falls. My logical mind understood this wasn't anemergency, but something deeper was driving me, something I couldn't explain.
Hockey had been Casey's passion since I'd known her. The way her face lit up when she talked about it, how she'd bombarded me with questions about the game whenever I visited, the Shadow Wolves jersey she proudly wore. She was hockey crazy, just like me when I was her age. The thought of her giving it up because of fear twisted something painful in my chest.
I took a corner too fast, my tires squealing slightly on the pavement. Slowing down, I forced myself to take a deep breath. Being pulled over for speeding wouldn't help anyone.
Why did I care about this kid so much?
The question floated through my mind as I drove through town. Casey was great, sure. Any decent human would want to help after what happened at the lake. But this was different. More intense than made sense for a child I'd only known a short time, even for the daughter of a woman whose soft voice and gentle touch captivated me.
Something about Casey had gotten under my skin from the first moment she'd opened Palisade's door, looking up at me with those startlingly familiar blue eyes. A connection existed that I couldn't understand. This paternal instinct was almost like a physical sensation.
The thought brought me up short as I turned onto Palisade's street. Was that it? Was I projecting some unfulfilled desire for fatherhood onto this child, who needed a male figure in her life? The idea was unsettling. I'd never particularly wanted kids.
Yet here I was, racing across town in the middle of the night because Casey was afraid, because she needed something I might be able to give her. The strange pull toward her was undeniable. Her presence brightened my day. I found myself easily chatting with her about hockey and life on the road in a way I'd never experienced with anyone else.
