Page 1 of My Pucked Up Enemy

Chapter one

Nina

I’malreadyintheroom when the chirping starts.

They see me. They just don’t think I’m listening. Or maybe they don’t care.

From my seat near the back, I hear them, voices low but not low enough.

“Did we seriously just hire a shrink?”

“Sports shrink, James. Supposed to ‘fix our heads.’”

“Good luck with that circus.”

“Wait till she makes us talk about our feelings.”

“I’ll retire before I say ‘I’m sad’ in a group circle.”

“Bet she’s got one of those soothing voices. Like one of those sleep apps.”

“You mean the kind where they whisper at you for an hour?”

“I mean, I wouldn't mind if she whispered at me.”

And then, the kicker—just loud enough:

“Didn’t know we were hiring a Barbie for the bench.”

I clear my throat and smile.

“If Barbie has three degrees, several years of experience with combat veterans, and a black belt in judo, sure. Let’s go with that.” I interrupt because it’s time to get started.

“Oooooooh!” The entire room reacts in unison.

Then silence, sharp and sudden, like a puck slamming against the glass.

Coach Stephens steps in beside me, not missing a beat. “This is Dr. Nina Erwin. She’s here to help get your heads straight and your game back. I expect full participation and zero bull.”

“Are we getting graded on this?” James Henderson interrupts. “Because I left my No. 2 pencil at home.”

“If I misbehave,” Ethan Lovelace adds, “do I get detention or just a spanking?”

Several groans. A few laughs.

Connor Jessup, team captain, shrugs. “Can she fix a fear of commitment? Asking for a friend.”

“Gentlemen,” I say with a bright smile. “If you’re all finished proving why your emotional maturity levels hover somewhere around kindergarten…”

Silence.

Coach smirks. “She’s not wrong.”

I continue, stepping forward like I own the damn place. “Let’s get one thing clear. I’m not here to sing Kumbaya or pass out participation trophies. I’m here because this team is in a slump, and slumps don’t start in your legs, they start in your heads. You don’t have to like me. You just have to show up and put in the work. Sound familiar?”

That gets a few nods. Parker lifts his Gatorade bottle like he’s toasting me.

James mutters, “She’s spicy. I like it.”

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