CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Easton
Istood in front of my bathroom mirror, adjusting my collar for the third time.
Dinner with Sadie. Tonight. In thirty minutes.
After that kiss in the supply closet, where the air was thick with anticipation, I should have been planning what to say, but I was still reeling. Now to navigate this conversation without making things worse.
What does this mean for us? Can we do this?
Instead, I was obsessing over whether this cologne was too much.
I grabbed the bottle, hesitated, then put it back on the counter. The scent reminded me of something. Some night a long time ago that felt important but stayed just out of reach.
My phone buzzed. A notification from the Shadow Wolves youth team parent group chat. Someone had posted photos from last week's practice.
I opened it, scrolling through. Casey in her gear, focused and fierce. Casey was laughing at something one of the other kids said. Casey looked up at the camera with those blue eyes.
I stopped.
Stared at the photo.
Really looked at her face for the first time.
Those eyes. That exact shade of blue. The way they tilted up slightly at the corners. The way one side of her smile hitched higher than the other when she was really happy.
I'd seen that smile in the mirror every day of my life.
My hands started shaking.
I scrolled to another photo. Casey's smile, one side hitching up higher than the other. Just like mine. The way she tilted her head when she was thinking through a problem. The stubborn set of her jaw showed when she was determined to master a new skill.
Her hockey obsession. Her competitive streak. The way she analyzes plays as if she were born understanding the game.
How had I not seen it before?
My mind raced backward, doing math I didn't want to do. Casey had turned six in March. Which meant she was born… I pulled up the calendar app with trembling fingers. March seven years ago. Nine months before that would be…
June.
Seven years ago in June, I'd slept with Sadie.
One night. We did use a condom, but condoms did break, it was a possibility…
No.
The phone slipped from my hand, clattering on the bathroom counter.
No, she would have told me. Sadie wouldn't keep something like that from me. She wouldn't.
But she had run. Without explanation. Holly had gone to visit her right after. My sister had been weird when she came back. Avoiding eye contact. Changing the subject whenever I mentioned Sadie's name.
What if Sadie hadn't run because she was terrified of what we'd done?
What if she'd run because she was pregnant?
What if she'd tried to tell me and I'd missed it?
My phone broke around that time. I got a brand new phone, and it came with a fresh phone number. Had she tried to call? Text? Had her messages gone into the void while I was oblivious?
What if Holly had gone to New Hampshire because Sadie was pregnant and alone?
What if Casey—
I grabbed my keys and was out the door before the thought could fully form.
Holly's apartment was only ten minutes away, but I made it in six. I didn't knock, just used the emergency key she'd given me years ago and walked straight in.
She startled from where she sat on her couch, wineglass in hand. "Jesus, Easton! You scared the…” She crinkled her brow. “What's wrong?"
"Why did you go to New Hampshire seven years ago?"
Holly blinked. "What?"
"New Hampshire." My voice was rough, barely controlled. "To visit Sadie. You left for almost a week, came back acting weird, and wouldn't talk about it. Why?"
"That was seven years ago." She set down her wine glass slowly. "Why are you asking about this now?"
"Because I just realized Casey is six years old." I stepped closer, and she stood up, eyes widening. "Born in March. Nine months after I slept with Sadie. Tell me why you went to New Hampshire."
The color drained from Holly's face. "Easton—"
"Tell me!"
"You need to talk to Sadie about this."
"I'm talking to you!" My hands fisted at my sides, the muscles in my arms suddenly tense. "Is Casey mine?"
Holly's face crumpled. "She tried to reach you."
The words hit me like a physical blow. "What?"
"She called. She texted. You never answered." Holly's voice was thick with tears. "She was scared and alone, and you never answered."
"No." I shook my head, backing up a step. "No, I would have. My phone broke, so I got a new number."
"She didn't know that!" Holly shouted. "All she knew was that she was twenty-four years old and pregnant, and the father wasn't responding!"
"You knew?" The betrayal was almost worse than everything else. "All this time, you knew I had a daughter, and you never said a word?"
"It wasn't my secret to tell!"
"Bullshit!" I was shaking now, rage and grief and shock all tangling together until I couldn't breathe. "I've been in Casey's life for weeks. You watched me with her, watched me teach her hockey, watched me fall in love with that kid, and you never once thought to mention she was mine?"
"What was I supposed to do?" Holly's tears were flowing freely now. "Palisade made me promise. She was trying to protect Casey from getting hurt if you weren't ready to be a father!"
"I don't give a fuck what she thought!" My voice cracked. "Six years, Holly. Six fucking years of Casey's life. First steps. First words. First day of school. First hockey practice. All of it. Gone. And you let it happen."
"She was protecting Casey!"
"From what? From me?" I stepped closer. "I'm her father."
"You weren't exactly relationship material back then, East! You were thirty years old and sleeping with a different woman every week!"
The accusation stung because it was true. "That doesn't give her the right to keep my daughter from me."
"Maybe if you'd answered your phone—"
"Don't." I held up a hand, backing toward the door. "Don't put this on me. I didn't know. She made sure I didn't know."
"Easton!"
"I can't do this right now." I yanked the door open. "I can't even look at you right now."
"Easton, don't do anything stupid!"
But I was already gone, slamming the door behind me and taking the stairs two at a time back to my truck.
My hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel.
The rage felt too familiar. It had the same cold weight my father's anger used to have. The kind that didn't explode. It compressed tighter and tighter until something broke.
Usually me.
"Control it, Easton." His voice in my head, scotch-slurred but still sharp. "Real men don't lose their temper. They use it."
He'd been a master at it. That icy fury that could fill a room, making the air too thick to breathe.
I'd learned to read it in the sound of ice cubes hitting crystal, in the particular way he'd loosen his tie after a bad day.
By the time I was ten, I could gauge his mood by how he opened the front door.
I wasn't him. I'd sworn I'd never be him.
But right now, with icy rage churning in my chest, I felt exactly like him as I prepared to drive toward Sadie's house. And that scared me more than anything else.
I started the truck and pulled out, barely registering the route as muscle memory took over. Within minutes, I was pulling into Sadie's driveway, and I was pounding on her door before I'd fully processed the decision to come here.
I heard Casey's voice inside. "Who is it?"
Sadie's reply was muffled, but I heard her tell Casey to go finish her homework.
Then the door opened.
Our eyes met, and I watched the realization hit her. The color drained from her face.
"Easton—"
"Inside. Now." My voice was ice.
"Uncle Easton!" Casey appeared behind her, grinning. "I didn't know you were coming over! Want to see my—"
"Casey." Sadie's voice was tight. "Go upstairs, baby."
"But…"
"Now, Casey. Please."
Casey's smile faded. She looked between us, sensing the tension. "Why? What's wrong?"
"Upstairs. We'll talk later." Sadie used her mom voice.
Casey's lower lip trembled. "Is Uncle Easton mad?"
"Go, Casey."
Casey retreated slowly, looking back over her shoulder until she disappeared up the stairs. I heard her bedroom door close.
The moment it clicked shut, I turned on Sadie.
"Is she mine?"
Three words. Simple. Devastating.
Sadie's throat worked. "Easton—"
"Don't." My hands were shaking. "Don't make excuses. Don't explain. Just answer the question. Is Casey mine?"
Silence stretched between us, so thick I could barely breathe through it.
"Yes."
The single word shattered everything.
"Six years." My voice broke. "You kept her from me for six years."
"I tried to tell you!" She stepped back, hands up defensively. "I called. I texted. You never answered!"
"So, you just gave up?" I was pacing now, couldn't stand still. "You knew where I lived, Sadie! You could have shown up at my door. You could have sent a letter. You could have…"
"I was twenty-four years old!" Her voice rose to match mine. "Twenty-four and pregnant and alone, and you weren't answering! What was I supposed to think?"
"That maybe my phone broke! That maybe there was a reason!" I stopped pacing, facing her. "But fine. Let's say you couldn't reach me seven years ago. What about now? What about the past two months?"
Her face went pale.
"I've been at the clinic every week," I continued, my voice deadly calm. "Working alongside you. We've spent hours together, Sadie. Hours. And you said nothing."
Her chin, defiant, tilted upwards. "I didn't know how."
"I slept in your guest room when Casey had a nightmare!" The words exploded out of me. "I was in your house, helping our daughter, and you still couldn't tell me?"
"Easton—"
"I was at the hospital when she fell into the lake." My voice cracked. "I held her hand. I stayed with you both all night. I thought my heart was going to stop when I saw her in that hospital bed, and the whole time you knew she was mine, and you said nothing!"
Tears streamed down her face, but I couldn't stop.