The remainder of the semester. Three months. My head is spinning like you see in the movies, and I force myself to breathe through my nose. "I see."
"Reese," Mrs. Lincoln leans forward, her eyes sympathetic but firm. "This isn't a suggestion."
I stand, my legs surprisingly steady beneath me. "May I say goodbye to my students?"
They exchange a glance. "We think it's best if you gather your personal belongings now, while classes are in session," Mr. Dalton says. "To avoid any... scenes."
I'm being escorted out. Like a criminal. Like someone dangerous.
"Very well." I lift my chin, shoulders squared. "I'll need boxes for my classroom materials."
"Mr. Sanchez will help you," Mrs. Lincoln says, already reaching for her phone.
I turn to leave, hand on the doorknob, when she adds, "For what it's worth, Reese, I'm sorry it's come to this. You're an excellent teacher."
I don't look back.
The hallway stretches before me, empty and silent. Behind classroom doors, lessons continue. Life goes on. In Room 112, my students sit on the carpet, ready for morning circle, unaware that today is the last day I'll be their teacher.
My hands tremble as I pull out my phone to text Logan, but I refuse to let a single tear fall. Not here. Not where they can see me breaking.
Steam rises from the untouched Thai food containers scattered across Logan's dining table, the normally delicious smells failing to stir my appetite. My chopsticks push a piece of tofu back and forth, back and forth, leaving tiny tracks in the sauce. Logan sits across from me, his own food similarly neglected, his eyes tracking my movements with careful concern.
"They had boxes ready," I say, finally breaking the silence. "Like they knew I wouldn't fight it."
Logan sets down his fork, abandoning any pretense of eating. "I'm so fucking sorry, Reese."
"Don't be. It's not your fault." The words come automatically, though part of me knows that's not entirely true. If I weren't dating Logan McCoy, captain of the Chicago Blades, if I weren't entangled in his custody battle, if I weren't "Bonus Mommy" to his son—I'd still be in my classroom tomorrow morning, helping Ellie sound out difficult words and watching Finn master his multiplication tables.
"It absolutely is my fault," Logan insists, his voice rough with emotion. "The photographers were after me. The custody battle is because of me. This media circus exists because I’m a hockey player. None of this happens if I’m a plumber."
I look up from my mutilated tofu, really seeing him for the first time since he picked me up from my apartment an hour ago. He looks exhausted, guilt etched into the lines around his eyes. He's carrying this, carrying me, carrying Tyler, carrying the team—all on those broad shoulders.
"I'm angry," I admit, setting down my chopsticks. "Not at you. At the situation. At how unfair it all is."
"You have every right to be angry."
"I love teaching, Logan. It's not just a job for me. Those kids..." My voice catches. "I didn't even get to say goodbye. They're going to think I abandoned them."
He reaches across the table, his fingers brushing mine. "We can fight this. I'll call my lawyer tomorrow. There has to be a way?—"
"It's not a termination. It's a leave of absence." I curl my fingers around his. "And fighting it would only make things worse for the kids. More media, more disruption."
"So we just let them do this?" His jaw tightens, that same protective instinct I've seen him display for Tyler, for his teammates, now focused entirely on me.
"I don't know what the right answer is." I exhale slowly. "Part of me wants to fight for my kids. But another part... another part worries they're right. Maybe my presence there is hurting the kids more than helping them right now."
Logan's fingers tighten around mine. "Listen to me. You are an incredible teacher. Those kids are lucky to have you."
"Had me," I correct him, the reality still raw.
"This is temporary," he insists. "Once the custody stuff settles down, once the media moves on to their next target?—"
"And when will that be?" I pull my hand back, suddenly restless. "Jessica's lawyer is filing new motions every week. The media isn't going anywhere as long as we're together."
The words hang in the air, unintended but impossible to retract. Logan's face pales slightly.
"I didn't mean—" I start.
