Page 10 of My Pucked Up Enemy

I meet his eyes. “Then we don’t miss.”

***

By the time I get back to my hotel room, I’m wiped, not physically, but mentally and emotionally. Watching a team unravel up close takes its toll, even when you know better than to absorb it.

I drop my tablet on the nightstand and sink onto the bed, letting the silence settle over me. I don’t turn on the TV. I don’t check my phone. I just sit there, letting the reel of the game play in my head again.

The difference between fatigue and collapse is razor thin.

Tonight, I saw the collapse.

They weren’t lazy. They were disconnected. They weren’t undisciplined. They were panicked. And that panic feeds on itself until their belief in themselves is the first casualty.

Alex. His posture. His restraint that looked more like suppression.

Connor. Barking directions with no traction. The frustration behind every word.

James. Silent when he should be chirping.

Parker. Playing glue while the foundation cracked beneath him.

I know who I have to reach.

Connor’s the captain, the center of gravity. Parker’s the emotional regulator. But Alex? He’s the wildcard. The one who could either break through or break apart.

And if I’ve learned anything from years of doing this, it’s that the wildcard is always where the story shifts.

Alex Chadwick moves to the top of my list.

Tomorrow, the real work begins.

Chapter four

Alex

I’mhalfwayintomypost-practice protein shake…kale, ginger, Greek yogurt…because apparently I hate myself. Actually, it tastes pretty good. Then Coach drops the bomb.

“You’re up next. Nina’s expecting you.”

I freeze mid-sip. “Excuse me?”

Coach doesn’t look up from his clipboard. “Her office. Now. Don’t make her come find you.”

Right. That stupid sign-up sheet I filled out half-jokingly the other day just came back to haunt me. I’d almost forgotten I made the damn appointment.

Around me, the locker room starts buzzing. James lifts his eyebrows like a kid who just saw a substitute teacher pull out a ruler. “I'm feeling first date vibes. Should we bring candles?”

“Should I leave my Spotify log-in open?” Ethan adds. “She might need a ‘Fixing Broody Men’ playlist.”

I slam my shaker down and grab my hoodie off the hook. “If I end up emotionally scarred, I’m blaming both of you.”

“Too late,” Parker mutters. “You already are.”

James smirks. “Tell her you’ve been bottling up your feelings since 2014 and you’re not about to stop now.”

Ethan throws in, “Or tell her your emotional availability is somewhere between ‘injured reserve’ and ‘just trade me already.’”

Parker’s stretching but still listening. “Don’t forget to tell her about the time you yelled at a vending machine and then apologized to it.”

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