I can't give up my son. I can't give up my career. That leaves the one thing I can control.
I park outside her building. Sit in the car for a full minute with the engine off. A few deep breaths. This is the right thing to do. It has to be. Tyler needs a father. The team needs a captain. And Reese... Reese needs someone who isn't falling apart.
I stand outside Reese's door holding my key to her apartment for two minutes before I let myself in. I can’t believe it’s come to this. My suit feels like a costume now—a ridiculous outfit for a man playing at being a professional athlete, a father, a partner. I'm failing at all three. I should leave. Turn around and leave to spare her this, but I've never been a coward.
The door swings open. She’s been waiting for me. She’s in leggings and one of my old Blades t-shirts, her hair pulled backin a messy bun. Her smile vanishes the moment she sees my face.
"You won," she says, but it's without the usual excitement.
"Yes, the team won." My voice sounds strange, distant. "No thanks to me."
She reaches for me, but I step past her, needing space. The room feels too small, the walls closing in. I pull the papers from my inside pocket, set them on her coffee table without explanation.
"I've been watching," she says, gesturing at the muted TV where they're showing my turnovers, my penalty, my mistakes on endless loop. "It was just one bad game, Logan. It happens."
"It wasn't just a bad game." I loosen my tie, suddenly unable to breathe. "Jessica filed for emergency custody today. Right before the game."
Reese picks up the papers, scanning them quickly. Her face pales. "This is... this is insane. She's using the photographer incident? And saying I'm creating an unstable environment?"
"The timing was deliberate." I pace to her kitchen and back, unable to stay still.
"Cranking this up during the playoffs practically guarantees me being off my game, then use my performance as evidence I'm unstable. Schedule the hearing for a potential Game 6. Make me choose between my son and my team."
"We'll fight it," Reese says immediately, setting down the papers. "Your lawyer will destroy this motion. It's so transparent what Jessica's doing. Then we'll ask for a continuance. Explain the situation."
"And prove her point that hockey comes first?" I shake my head. "There's no winning here, Reese. She's got me cornered."
Reese approaches slowly. Her hand finds my arm. "You had a bad game, Logan. Your team still won."
"You don't get it." I pull away again. "It's not just tonight. I'm failing at things I can’t fail at. I'm letting down my team when they need their leader most. I'm being painted as an unstable father who puts hockey and his girlfriend above his son. And I'm dragging you into a nightmare you never signed up for."
"I knew what I was signing up for," she insists, voice rising slightly. "I've never had any illusions about how complicated this would be."
"Did you sign up for losing your job? For being called a home-wrecker in the press? For being used as a weapon in a custody battle?"
Her silence is answer enough.
"I can't do this anymore," I say. "I can't be split in three directions, failing at everything."
"What are you saying?" She asks so quietly I can barely hear her.
"I'm saying something has to give." I force myself to meet her eyes, to watch the realization dawn. "I can't be the father Tyler needs, the captain this team deserves, and the man you should have. Not right now. Not all at once."
"Logan. Don't do this. We can find another way."
"There is no other way." I know I'm right and I hate it. "Tyler has to come first. The team has to come second. There's nothing left for you except disappointment and heartache."
"That's not your decision to make for me." Anger flashes through her grief. "I get to decide what I can handle."
"Look at me, Reese." I gesture to myself. "I'm drowning. Tonight was just the beginning. As long as we're together, Jessica will use you against me in the custody battle. As long as the custody battle rages, I'll be useless to my team. As long as I'm failing my team, I'll hate myself too much to be any good for you."
"This is such bullshit, Logan. You're not being noble—you're being a coward. You think pushing me away makes you a hero? It makes you exactly like every other guy who ran when things got hard. You're choosing to fail alone instead of succeeding together, and you're dressing it up as sacrifice. Tyler doesn't need a martyr for a father. He needs someone who shows him that love means staying when it's hard."
"Please," she whispers. She takes two steps toward me and grabs my wrist. Hard. We both freeze. She lets go.
"When I was a kid," I say, barely able to get the words out, "my dad used to say you can have anything you want in this world, but not everything. I never understood what he meant until now."
Reese’s eyes are full of tears.
