I nodded, tears pricking at my eyes. "Yes, he's your biological father."
"But…" Her brow furrowed as she processed this. "Why does he live in a different house? And why did he say he was my uncle? Does he not want to be my dad?"
The innocent questions cut deeper than any accusation could. How did I explain choices and consequences to a six-year-old?
"He didn't know he was your dad until recently," I said carefully. "I… I didn't tell him."
Casey's face scrunched in confusion. "How come? Didn't he want to know?"
I struggled to find words a child could understand without burdening her with adult complexities. "It's complicated, sweetie. When you were born, Easton and I weren't together. He was very busy with hockey, and I thought… I thought it would be easier if it were just you and me."
"But he knows now?" Casey pressed, her mind working to make sense of this revelation.
"Yes, he knows now. He recently found out, and he came to talk to me about it the other night when I sent you upstairs."
"Is that why you were crying? Was he mad?" Casey's blue eyes were so wide in her face.
I nodded, blinking my eyes. "He was a little, but not at you, baby."
"And he wants to be my dad?" The hope in her voice was unmistakable, and it made my chest ache with guilt and love in equal measure.
"He wants that very much," I assured her, nodding. I remembered the raw emotion in Easton's voice despite his anger. "He's been so excited about spending time with you these past few weeks, even when he thought he was just your uncle."
Casey was quiet for a long moment, processing everything I'd told her. Her blue eyes, brimming with gravity, met mine. "Is that why he looks at me funny sometimes? Because he's my dad?"
I smiled through my tears. "Probably. He sees himself in you. You have his eyes, you know."
She nodded solemnly. "Lily's mom said that too, about our eyes."
Of course, she did.
The Amber Falls gossip mill had probably been speculating about Casey's parentage since we moved back.
"Are you mad at me?" Casey asked, her voice small.
I frowned at her question. "Mad at you? Why would I be mad at you?"
"Because I'm excited that Uncle Easton is my dad." She tested the word carefully, like she was trying on a new piece of clothing to see if it fit. "I always wanted a dad who plays hockey."
A laugh escaped me despite everything, caught between laughter and a sob. Of course, Casey would focus on the hockey connection.
"I'm not mad at all," I assured her, pulling her into a hug. "I'm glad you're happy about it."
As I held her, I thought about Easton's face that night, the hurt and anger, but also his determination.
I want to be her father. Not her Uncle Easton. Her father.
Despite everything, he'd put Casey first, insisting we tell her together in a way that wouldn't damage her relationship with either of us.
And now, that careful plan had been derailed by schoolyard gossip stemming from what Easton said at the sporting goods store.
"Can I call him?" Casey asked, pulling back from our hug. "To tell him I know he's my dad now?"
I hesitated, then nodded. "Let me talk to him first, okay? Then you can speak with him."
As Casey bounded off to her room, apparently satisfied with this arrangement, I sank back against the couch, emotionally drained. The secret I'd guarded for so long had unraveled in a matter of hours, leaving me to navigate the aftermath.
I pulled out my phone, my finger hovering over Easton's contact information. Before I could talk myself out of it, I pressed the call button, preparing myself for the conversation that would forever change our already complicated relationship.
