Page 15 of My Pucked Up Enemy

Patty cuts to the chase. “So what’s the real reason you took this job, Nina? You could’ve stayed with the Army contracts, gone private, lectured, hell, opened your own damn clinic.”

I swirl the ice in my glass, then glance at her. “Because this team is something I believe in. And maybe... because I’ve seen what happens when good people fall apart and don’t have anyone in their corner.”

She softens. “This about your brother?”

I nod. “He held everything in until it cracked. Deployed three times, saw more than anyone should, but he never talked about it—not to me, not to anyone. By the time he admitted he wasn’t okay, he was already spiraling. So now, I step in earlier, hopefully before anyone gets to that point.”

Patty reaches across the table and squeezes my hand briefly. “You always carried more than your share.”

“Yeah, well, therapy's cheaper than armor.”

She smirks. “You still wear armor. It’s just invisible and accessorized with killer boots.”

“Guilty.”

I take a breath. “Honestly, part of me thought I could handle this like any other contract. Professional, clear lines. But it’s harder when you see what they’re holding in. And when one of them…”

“Gets under your skin?” Patty offers.

I nod slowly.

“Don’t roll your eyes,” she says, pointing at me. “You’re allowed to be a human woman with an advanced degreeanda heartbeat.”

“It’s not about romance,” I say. “It’s about connection. Trust. Helping them understand they’re not machines built to win or break.”

“And what about you?”

I blink. “What about me?”

“Who remindsyouthat you’re not a machine? That you’re allowed to want more than stability and a paycheck?”

Her words settle in.

I smile, but it feels small. “Still working on that part.”

I thought after my brother passed, I'd buried that part of myself, the part that hoped for something beyond the job, beyond the purpose. I told myself being useful was enough, being the one people relied on. And with all the travel, the relocations, the nights prepping for sessions instead of dates... it was easy to believe that.

My dating life is nonexistent, not because I’m not interested, but because until now, it always felt like something I had to pause, postpone, or rationalize away. But lately... I don’t know. Maybe the quiet at night feels too quiet. Maybe I want someone who sees me the way I try to see everyone else. Someone who doesn’t need fixing, just understanding.

The kind of love I want isn’t flashy or loud, it’s steady. It’s the kind that doesn’t try to fix me, but just sits beside me without flinching when things get heavy. I want laughter in the in-between moments, and a hand on my back when I forget that I don’t have to do everything alone.

I shift back to her. “Okay, enough about me. What about you? Still swearing off dating apps and scaring off every emotionally stunted finance bro within a five-mile radius?”

Patty snorts. “Proudly. Although I did go on one date last week. He told me he was ‘emotionally evolved’ and then spent forty-five minutes explaining why his ex was actually the problem.”

I wince. “Oof. Classic.”

“Yup. Back to romantic exile for me. Honestly, I think I’m better solo. Fewer dishes. More duvet real estate.”

“Hey, I respect it. But for what it’s worth, you deserve someone who is the total package… successful, honest, hot and no bull.”

Patty smiles at me over the rim of her glass. “Right back at you, Doc.”

Then she narrows her eyes. "So. Tell me how you handle it. The players."

I hesitate, then glance around. "Without breaking any privacy rules... it’s like walking into a storm where everyone’s pretending the lightning is no big deal."

Patty raises an eyebrow. "That bad?"

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