CHAPTER TEN
Palisade
Standing in the doorway, I watched Easton with Casey. My daughter's small hand was tucked in his much larger one, her breathing deep and even in sleep. The sight of them together brought a lump to my throat, thick with emotion I couldn't swallow past.
This was what I'd denied them both.
For six years.
Easton looked up, catching me staring. Even in the dim light, the intensity of his blue eyes made my breath catch.
"She's out," he whispered, gently extracting his hand from hers. "Poor kid was exhausted."
I nodded, lacking words for the gratitude flooding through me. Easton rose from the bed with the careful movements of an athlete accustomed to controlling his frame in small spaces. As he neared the doorway where I stood, the narrow space became impossibly small.
"Thank you," I managed, my voice barely audible. "I didn't know what else to do."
He was close enough now that I could smell his woodsy cologne, something that made my senses swim. When had the air between us become so charged?
"You did the right thing calling me," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in the air. "I'm glad I could help."
We stood there, suspended in the hallway between Casey's room and the rest of the house, neither of us moving. The domesticity of the moment terrified me. Easton, in my home at one in the morning. Casey was asleep because he'd soothed her. The three of us under one roof, like a family.
"It's late," I said, stepping back to break the spell. "You're welcome to stay in the guest room. I wouldn't feel right sending you home at this hour."
Something flickered in his eyes. Surprise, maybe. Or something warmer.
"You sure?"
"Of course." I led him down the hall, acutely aware of his presence behind me. "The bathroom's there. I can lend you a toothbrush."
"I'm good. I keep one in my car for overnight road trips."
Of course he did. Professional athletes were always prepared. I pushed open the guest room door, flipping on the light to reveal the simple space with its queen-sized bed and mismatched furniture.
"It's not much," I said, eyeing the faded quilt and secondhand dresser. So different from what his sleek, modern, and expensive condo must look like.
"It's perfect." His tone made me turn to face him.
We were standing too close again. Close enough to see the faint stubble darkening his jaw, the tiny scar above his left eyebrow from a hockey injury years ago. His eyes dropped to my lips for a heartbeat, and my breath shortened.
"I should get you some towels," I said quickly, backing away. "And maybe a T-shirt to sleep in?"
He reached forward, his fingertips gently guiding a strand of hair behind my ear. The touch sent electricity down my spine. "I usually sleep shirtless, but thanks."
Heat crawled up my neck at the image that flashed through my mind. Easton in my guest bed, sheets pooled at his waist, his broad chest bare…
"Right. Well. Towels are in the closet there." I gestured vaguely, desperate to escape before I did something stupid. Like touch him. "Goodnight."
"Sadie," he said, stopping me as I turned to go. "Are you okay?"
He stepped closer and found my hand. The warmth, the solid presence… it made something inside me crumble.
For weeks, I'd been keeping him at arm's length, maintaining professional boundaries at the clinic, limiting our interactions to Wednesday dinners and Casey's hockey. But here, in the quiet intimacy of my home, after one in the morning, those boundaries felt paper-thin.
"I was terrified," I admitted, the confession easier in the darkness. "Not just of the nightmare, but… what if she quits hockey? It's her passion. And I can't help feeling it's my fault for not watching her more carefully at the lake."
He gently pulled my lip from between my teeth. I hadn't even realized I was biting it. His touch lingered as he traced soothing circles on the inside of my wrist. The soft pressure made it hard to concentrate.
"Kids are resilient," he said quietly. "And what happened wasn't your fault."
"I should have been paying closer attention." The guilt that had been gnawing at me since the accident spilled out. "If you hadn't been there—"
"But I was," he interrupted, stepping closer. "And she's fine. You're an exceptional mother, Sadie."
The compliment delivered with such certainty broke something loose inside me. Tears I'd been holding back all night welled in my eyes. Without thinking, I leaned forward, pressing my forehead against his chest.
His arms came around me automatically, strong and secure.
I let myself be held. His heartbeat was steady under my ear, his body warm and solid against mine.
How long had it been since someone had comforted me?
Since I'd allowed myself to be vulnerable to anyone?
His hand stroked down my back, a soothing rhythm that was anything but platonic. The touch awakened every nerve, sending shivers down my spine and reminding me how long it had been since I'd been touched like this.
Since I'd wanted to be touched like this.
When I tilted my face up, his eyes were already on mine, dark with an intensity that made my breath catch. The air between us crackled with unfinished business from the hospital, from seven years ago, from every moment we'd been circling each other since he'd walked back into my life.
"Sadie," he breathed, my name a question and an answer all at once.
He leaned down, and for one breathless moment, I let myself want it. Could almost taste him again after all this time. Could almost let the heat that had been building between us finally ignite.
The furnace kicked on with a low hum, and the moment broke
I pulled back, just slightly, and his hand dropped from my face.
We stood there in the guest room, close enough to feel each other's breath, far enough that the moment had passed.
He understood. I could see it in his eyes. And also, the resignation. This wasn't the right time. Maybe it would never be the right time.
"I should let you get some sleep," he said finally, voice rough.
"Yeah." I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold without his warmth. "Thank you. For coming over. For everything."
Something flickered across his face. Perhaps disappointment or relief, I couldn't tell.
"Anytime."
He moved toward the door, and I followed, maintaining the careful distance we'd just established. At the threshold, he paused, looking back at me with something raw in his eyes like longing and restraint warring in equal measure.
"Goodnight, Sadie."
"Goodnight, Easton."
I retreated to my bedroom, closing the door and leaning against the solid wood. My heart hammered in my chest, and phantom sensations lingered on my skin where his touch had been.
It had been so long since I'd felt this overwhelming need to be close to someone.
To him.
As I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, I was acutely aware of Easton down the hall. In my guest room. Under my roof. Close enough to touch and impossibly far away.
The secret was crushing me, suffocating me with its weight.
His almost-kiss still burned on my lips. I'd come so close to letting him in completely. But the familiar fear had crept back.
The same fear that had kept me silent for six years.
I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, desperate for a distraction from thoughts of Easton down the hall. The browser was still open to the website Holly had texted me last week.
Sassy's.
The exclusive club she'd mentioned in passing, half-joking about how I needed to "work out my frustrations somewhere."
I'd dismissed it. But now, alone in the dark with my body still humming from Easton's touch, I scrolled through the information.
Discreet. Anonymous. Safe.
A place to explore without judgment. To let go of control. To submit.
My breath caught. The idea of surrendering, of letting someone else take charge, decide, and take what they wanted while I could simply… feel.
It sent heat pooling low in my belly.
Strong hands pinning my wrists. A commanding voice telling me exactly what to do. The freedom of not having to think, to plan, to carry the weight of secrets and responsibilities. Just sensation and obedience and release.
But as I read through the membership information, the fantasy shifted.
It wasn't anonymous hands I pictured. It was Easton's.
Easton crowding me against the wall, his blue eyes dark with intent. His fingers wrapped around my wrists, holding me exactly where he wanted me. His low and rough voice telling me to be still while he took his time exploring every inch of my skin.
"Good girl," he'd murmur against my throat, and I'd melt under the praise.
I pressed my thighs together, trying to ease the ache building there. This wasn't helping. The whole point of a place like Sassy's was to keep things separate.
Physical release without emotional entanglement.
But I didn't want anonymity. I didn't want separation.
I wanted him.
And that was exactly the problem.
I closed the browser and set my phone aside, my heart racing.
Because my feelings for Easton were anything but simple. Getting closer to him would only make the inevitable heartbreak worse when he learned the truth.
I turned onto my side, pulling the covers tighter around me despite the heat still simmering under my skin.
For tonight, at least, he was here. In my home. Helping with our daughter. Fitting into our lives as if he belonged.
Tomorrow would bring complications enough.
Just for a moment, I would let myself imagine what it might be like if this weren't temporary. If Easton's presence in our lives could be permanent. If the three of us could be the family Casey deserved.
The fantasy was dangerous.
But in the darkness of my bedroom, with the memory of his almost-kiss still burning on my skin, I allowed myself to indulge in it, anyway.
Just this once.