Chapter 20
Reese
I've been trying to review my kids’ latest projects, but the constant notifications are killing me.
Another buzz. Another ping. I finally cave and pick up the device, expecting more texts from Logan about the custody situation.
Instead, my stomach drops. A headline from Chicago Sports Daily screams up at me: "McCoy's Latest Squeeze: Kindergarten Teacher Playing Mommy to Hockey Star's Secret Son. "
I sink deeper into my couch, a pile of art work sliding from my lap as I scroll with trembling fingers.
It's been a few days since Patricia's video call about Jessica's petition, and somehow in that time, I've become public property.
The article features a grainy photo of me leaving Logan's building clutching a coffee cup, hair thrown up in a messy bun.
I look tired. Ordinary. Nothing like the polished women Logan dated before me.
"Captain Logan McCoy's Kindergarten Teacher Conquest: Meet the Woman Playing House with Hockey's Most Eligible Bachelor," the article states with casual cruelty.
I swallow hard, telling myself it doesn't matter, that I know the truth of our relationship. But my finger keeps scrolling, a masochistic impulse I can't seem to fight.
A fan blog has compiled a "timeline" of Logan's dating history, complete with quotes from past hookups. "He's not the settling down type," says a model whose name I vaguely recognize. "Great for a weekend, but don't expect a call back."
My throat tightens. I know these women are talking about a version of Logan that existed before Tyler, before me. But seeing it laid out like this—the sheer volume of beautiful women he's been with—makes me feel sick.
The comments sections are worse.
"Bonus Mommy? More like gold digger who found a bonus bank account."
"She's not even hot. McCoy must be losing it."
"How long before he trades her in for a newer model? I give it six months tops."
"Kindergarten teacher? Perfect. Already knows how to handle children—including McCoy lol."
The adrenaline makes me shake so much I nearly drop the phone. I set it face-down on the table, drawing my knees to my chest.
"This is ridiculous," I say out loud to my empty apartment. "They don't know you. They don't know us." My own voice sounds hollow, unconvincing.
The phone buzzes again. I ignore it, all I can hear is the hum of my refrigerator, the ticking of the wall clock, the familiar creaks of my building. Things I don’t usually notice are screaming for my attention.
And the phone keeps buzzing. I finally flip it over to see Elena's name lighting up my screen with multiple texts.
Elena: Have you seen this garbage?
Elena: Don't read the comments, Reese. I'm serious.
Elena: Call me when you can.
Elena: I'm getting worried. Just let me know you're okay.
I stare at her messages, poised over the keyboard to respond. What am I supposed to say? That I'm fine? That I'm not currently curled into a ball, trying not to cry over what strangers are saying about me on the internet?
Before I can respond, my phone starts ringing—Elena switching to FaceTime. I consider ignoring it, but that will only make her worry more. I take a deep breath, paste on what I hope is a casual expression, and answer.
Elena's worried face fills my screen. "Oh good. You answered. Why weren't you answering my texts?"
"Sorry," I manage. "I was writing progress reports."
Her eyes narrow and she purses her lips. "Bullshit. You've seen it all, haven't you?"
I try to laugh, but it comes out all wrong—a strange, choked sound. "It's not a big deal."
"It is a big deal. They're being horrible to you. And for what? For dating Logan? For being good to Tyler? All of it is crap and you know it." Elena's voice softens. "You've been so careful with Tyler. You've never overstepped."
I press my fingertips against my eyelids, fighting back the pressure building behind my eyes. "What if Jessica's right? What if I am confusing him?"
"Stop it." Elena's tone is firm. "Tyler adores you. And you adore him. He's lucky to have you in his life."
"But these articles—"
"Are written by people who have never met you, never seen you with Tyler, never seen how good you are for him.
" She pauses. "This is just collateral damage from the custody battle. Jessica definitely leaked some of this stuff to build her case. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has a PR person doing it on purpose. "
My head snaps up. "You think she's behind it?"
Elena shrugs. "You know how these things work. An 'anonymous source close to the family' suddenly has all these concerns about the new girlfriend? Come on."
I hadn't considered that angle, but it makes a sick sort of sense. But why would she do this? It makes her world more chaotic and it won’t be good for Tyler.
"I just..." I trail off, searching for words. "I never wanted to be in the spotlight like this. I'm a simple girl, Elena. I read books out loud, supervise recess, and tie shoelaces for five-year-olds. And now I'm being shit on by people who don't even know me."
"I know." Her energy becomes more gentle. "It's not fair. But you're stronger than this, Reese. And Logan loves you."
"That’s true." I pick at a loose thread on my sweatpants. "But is all of this worth it? The custody battle, the public scrutiny, the lawyers?"
Even as I ask the question, Tyler's face flashes in my mind—his gap-toothed grin when he sees me, the serious way he asks me questions, how his small hand feels in mine when we cross the street. The answer is obvious, has been from the moment I first saw Logan with his son.
"Of course it is," I say before Elena can answer. "They're absolutely worth it."
"There's my girl." Elena smiles, relief evident in her eyes. "Have you talked to Logan today?"
I shake my head. "No. Have you heard from Nate? Have they gotten to Tampa yet? I don't want to distract him."
"He needs to know what's happening."
"He'll just get angry and upset, and there's nothing he can do." I pick up my phone, adjusting the angle. "I'll talk to him later."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
After we hang up, I force myself to put my phone on Do Not Disturb and turn it face-down again. The progress reports stare up at me, waiting for my attention, but I can't focus while these horrible people are gleefully pouring gasoline on the dumpster fire my reputation is becoming.
Instead, I close my eyes and picture Logan and Tyler building a giant tower of blocks on the living room floor, their identical expressions of concentration, the casual way Logan ruffled Tyler's hair when their creation was complete.
The memory feels so sweet, so precious. I wish those cruel strangers with their cruel comments knew the truth.
My phone buzzes again, muffled against the coffee table. I ignore it this time and head to bed. I can’t take any more of it today.
I toss and turn until after midnight. I can’t sleep. I pick up my phone and see that Logan has texted multiple times. He’s seen what’s happening and he’s pissed.
Please call me when you get this.
I turn on my bedside lamp, sit back against my headboard, and FaceTime him. He’s on the bus headed to the airport to come home.
His eyes are flashing that dangerous darkness that only shows up when he's furious. I’ve only seen it during games.
"Have you seen all of this shit?"
"I've seen it." I pull my comforter up around my knees.
"I’m so fucking mad about all of it. Are you OK? Why didn't you call me?"
"You were on the road. I didn't want to distract you."
"Fuck the road. Fuck the game.They're attacking you because of me."
"It's not your fault." I tell him.
"It is my fault. My past. My reputation." He’s so mad it looks like he might cry. "Do you know what they're saying about you on those fan sites? The comments?"
"I've seen enough," I admit, watching him shift in his seat. There's a controlled violence in the way I see him right now—not directed at me, but radiating outward at an unseen enemy.
"They can say whatever they want about me," he says, voice dropping to a low growl. "I've earned that reputation. But going after you crosses every fucking line."
“Yeah, it’s not fair. It’s gross. I hate it.”
“Me too. I’m so, so sorry this is happening.” He says. “And to put a cherry on top of all of this, we have that meeting tomorrow with the family lawyer about Jessica’s newest custody shenanigans.”
“It’s OK, Logan. It sucks but we can do this. Just get home to me. I want you in my bed when I wake up, OK? Thank god it’s the weekend.”
“OK, beautiful. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
The next morning the doorbell rings, startling us both. Logan glances at me, then at his watch. "Damn. We overslept. That's Patricia."
My stomach drops. I’m so disoriented. "The lawyer is here already?"
"She has the formal complaint from Jessica's attorney." His expression softens at my obvious confusion.
While I throw on leggings and a hoodie, Logan starts downstairs to open the door. As I’m on my way down the stairs, I see Patricia Winters and a younger woman I don't recognize, both carrying leather briefcases and wearing expressions that make my insides tense.
"Hi, Logan. Hi, Reese. This is Mara, one of my paralegals," Patricia says, extending her hand. Her grip is firm, professional. "I'm sorry we're meeting again under these circumstances."
We move to the dining table, clearing away my work station to make room for the expanding universe of legal paperwork. I can smell the coffee Logan started brewing while I try to look like I'm not falling apart inside.
"Jessica's attorney filed these papers after the pictures went public," Patricia begins, sliding a document across the table. "As expected, she's requesting a modification to the current custody arrangement, but there are some new elements."
I scan the legal language, catching phrases that make my blood run cold. "Unfit influence" jumps out at me, followed by "concerns regarding child's confusion about parental roles."