Page 98 of From Maybe to Baby

Understood.

Because sometimes that's all you can do.

The next week,Lukas quits hockey. No drama, no tears—he just hands me his practice gear and says he's done. Coming from a four-year-old who's been skating since he could walk, it hits hard.

"Are you sure, buddy?" I ask. "Coach Mike says you're getting really good at?—"

"I don't want to anymore." He doesn’t look at me. "Can I do art class instead?"

Art. Like Alexa did with them many times.

In spite of myself, there’s really no hiding my distraction. I'm missing passes I should be able to make in my sleep, showing up late to meetings, going through the motions without focus. Coach pulls me aside after I blow an easy drill.

"Take a few more days," he suggests. Not an offer—more like an order.

"I'm fine."

"You're not. And that's okay. But I need you back. The real Jonas Knight."

At home, Frenchie reports that Jace is having a rough night. Third time this week. We thought she'd outgrown nightmares, but apparently not.

I find her curled up in my bed again that night, clutching her old baby blanket. "I had a ‘mare, Daddy," she whispers.

"Want to tell me about it?"

She shakes her head. "Can I sleep here?"

On my way to get her water, I pass Genny's photo in the hallway. From one of her last days, smiling like she knew something I didn't.

That's when it hits me—the anger. Not at Alexa, exactly, though that's there too. But at Genny. For dying. For leaving me to handle moments like this alone.

"You said it would be worth it," I tell her photo. "You said letting them love again was worth the risk."

The photo just smiles back.

Vince is waiting at the practice facility the next morning. "The team's concerned."

"The team's always concerned."

"Your performance is suffering."

"It's pre-season."

"It's more than that." He hands me a tablet showing my stats. "These numbers aren't you."

“Since when is PR concerned about my stats?” I snap.

Regardless, he’s right. Nothing about this is me—the distraction, the way I'm letting personal issues affect professional performance. That's not how I operate.

Lukas is in the backyard when I get home, methodically destroying his practice charts. Not in anger—just systematically ripping them up like he's erasing evidence.

"I can make new ones," he says when he catches me watching. "Different ones. For art class."

The PR team wants to discuss "image management." The coaches want to talk about "focus and commitment." The team owner mentions "contract considerations."

I get it. I do. A professional athlete can't let personal drama affect their game. Can't let family issues spill onto the ice. Can't let heartbreak translate to missed goals.

But watching my kids pretend they're fine and then proving they aren’t—that's the real performance issue. Lukas quitting the thing he loves most. Jace's nightmares returning. Both of them trying so hard to be okay that it's almost worse than if they weren't.

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