I shut it off, dropping it back into my stall. Reporters will be allowed in soon. I'll have to find words I don't feel, explanations I don't have.
"Mac." Sully's voice cuts through the noise. He stands next to my stall, expression grim. "Got a minute?"
I follow him into the hallway, away from the celebration. He leads me to a small office used by visiting coaches, closes the door behind us.
"You had a rough night," he says, voice gentle in a way that makes my stomach twist. "It happens to everyone, even the best."
"Team won. That's what matters." I say it because that’s what I’m supposed to say.
"Logan." He rarely uses my first name. "I need to show you something, and I need you to stay calm."
He hands me a manila envelope. My heart rate spikes as I open it, recognizing legal letterhead. Jessica's lawyer. As I scan the document, certain phrases leap out at me.
"Emergency custody motion..."
"Erratic behavior and public outbursts..."
"Violent incident with photographer..."
"Inappropriate relationship creating unstable environment..."
"Child's best interest requires immediate intervention..."
My vision blurs and the words swim on the page. "When did this come in?"
"Her lawyer filed it this afternoon. Right before game time." Sully's expression darkens. "We don’t think the timing is coincidental, Logan."
That bitch. She waited until right before a crucial playoff game to file this.
"She's using the camera incident," I say, voice hollow.
"And suggesting your relationship with Reese is creating an unstable environment for Tyler." Sully's hand finds my shoulder. "There's an emergency hearing scheduled for the same morning we'd travel to Denver for Game 6."
Of course.
"I can't miss a playoff game for a custody hearing." The words sound ridiculous even as I say them.
"That's exactly what she's counting on," Sully says quietly. "Miss the hearing, it looks like hockey means more than your son. Miss the game, you're letting your team down."
I sit down heavily on a folding chair, papers clutched in my hand. The victory noise from the locker room feels miles away now.
"Surgical," I finish for him. "She's cutting out my heart with perfect timing."
And the worst part is, I've helped her case. My performance tonight, my outburst with the photographer, my increasingly desperate attempts to balance a life that's spinning out of control—all of it plays into the narrative she's creating.
"What am I supposed to do?" The question isn't really for Sully. It's for the universe, for whatever cruel fate has decided to test my limits.
Sully squeezes my shoulder. "One step at a time. Get some rest. Tomorrow's another day."
But as I stare at the papers in my hand, I know something has to give. I can't keep failing at everything simultaneously. My team. My son. Something has to give.
Our plane lands at Midway and I drive to Reese's on auto-pilot considering my options to find a way out of this. Something has to give.
Option one: Skip the hearing for playoffs. Jessica wins emergency custody and uses my absence against me forever. Can't lose Tyler. Not an option.
Option two: Skip a playoff game for court. Let my team down when they need my veteran leadership most. I can’t do that to the boys or the fans. That would be career suicide. Not an option.
I turn onto Reese's street. I know what option three is. I've known since Sully handed me those papers.
