"With sprinkles?"
"Obviously, with sprinkles." He shot me a small smile over Casey's head. "What kind of dad would I be if I didn't have sprinkles?"
As we moved to the kitchen, Casey slipped her hand into Easton's. The gesture was slight, but the trust in it made my throat tight.
"Dad?" she said quietly.
"Yeah, kiddo?"
"I'm glad you're here."
Easton stopped, crouching down to her level. "Me too, Casey. Me too."
After Casey was in bed, I found him standing in the living room, staring out the front window.
"They're gone," I said. "The photographers. For now."
"They'll be back." His voice was grim. "They always come back."
"I'm sorry. This is my fault. If I'd just told you from the beginning—"
"Don't." He turned to face me. "This isn't your fault. It's theirs. And mine. I'm the one who made my life public. I'm the one who comes with this… circus."
"Casey's scared."
"I know." His jaw tightened. "But she's also resilient. She'll get through this. We all will."
I wanted to believe him. But standing in my living room, thinking about the meeting with Principal Davis tomorrow, the reporters at the clinic, the life I'd built that was crumbling around me.
"What if they ask her to leave?" The words came out broken. "The school. What if they ask Casey to leave?"
"Then we'll find another school. A private one, where they can control access. Whatever she needs."
"She loves her school. Her friends…"
"I know." He crossed the room and took my hands. "But Casey's safety comes first. Her well-being comes first. We'll figure out the rest."
I looked up at him, at the determination in his eyes, and felt something shift in my chest.
"Thank you," I whispered. "For being here. For showing up."
"I'm her father," he said simply. "Where else would I be?"
I arrived at the clinic the next morning to find two news vans already parked across the street.
My stomach dropped.
Monique was standing at the front door, arms crossed, glaring at a reporter who was trying to peer through the windows. When she saw me pull into the lot, she intercepted me before I could get to the door.
"They've been here since five," she said, voice tight. "Asking questions about you and Easton. One of them tried to come inside and 'accidentally' schedule an appointment just to get photos."
"You're kidding."
"I wish." She walked with me to the door, positioning herself between me and the cameras. "Dr. Honors, we need to talk about security. Mrs. Patterson canceled her appointment because she didn't want to 'deal with the circus.' That's a direct quote."
Inside, the clinic felt different.
Violated.
