Page 13 of My Pucked Up Enemy

“So,” she says, finally breaking it. “How long have you been pretending the injury didn’t affect you?”

My jaw tenses. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

“No? You slammed your stick against the post after the fifth goal last night. Skated circles like you were ready to snap. Then spent the rest of the third period locked in your own head.”

“I was pissed. You want me to smile after getting shelled?”

“I want to know what happens when you stop pretending you’re fine.”

I am suddenly caught off guard, but only for a second.

“You know,” I say slowly, “you walk around here with that calm voice and notepad like you’ve got us all figured out. But you’re just guessing.”

“Maybe,” she says. “But I’m very good ateducatedguesses, like how you deflect with sarcasm. How you use structure and routine to avoid anything unpredictable. How you build walls and call it discipline.”

“And you call yourself a professional?”

“I am.”

“Then maybe stop acting like you know me.”

“I don’t. Not yet. But I’d like to.”

The room goes quiet again.

I shift in my seat. I can feel the edge of something rising. Is it frustration, curiosity or the sudden annoying awareness of how striking her eyes are when she’s locked in?

“You’re not what I expected,” I mutter.

“And what did you expect?”

“A clipboard cheerleader with a motivational quote fetish.”

That gets a laugh out of her. It’s quick, but real.

“I left my pompoms in the car,” she deadpans.

“You don’t rattle easily.”

“You trying to rattle me?”

I shrug. “Just checking.”

Her eyes narrow slightly. “You’re testing me. Trying to figure out if I’m worth your time. If I’ll flinch. That’s fine. But I’m not here to pass your test, Alex. I’m here to help you win hockey games and sleep through the night. In that order.”

I exhale through my nose. “You’re intense.”

“And you’re exhausted. Even when you hide it well.”

There it is. That moment where the room shifts—not because something was said, but because what she saidlanded.

“I didn’t ask to be here,” I say quietly.

“I know.”

“I don’t need fixing.”

“I didn’t say you did.”

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