Page 23 of My Pucked Up Enemy

His gaze drops to the mat. "I don’t talk about this stuff. Not with anyone."

"I know," I say softly. "And I won’t push you. But you don’t have to talk about everything at once. What you’ve already shared this morning is more than enough for today."

He nods.

I offer him a small smile. "But seriously? That was real effort. You showed up. You tried something new. You gave me a glimpse of what’s underneath all that armor. That’s no small thing."

Then, of course, he backtracks. "Don’t get used to it."

"Wouldn’t dream of it," I tease lightly. "Although I do have you penciled in for Monday again."

"Let me guess. Breathing exercises and visualization?"

"Maybe we’ll mix in some trust-building. Or I’ll throw you a curveball and make you journal."

He groans. "Kill me now."

I laugh. "You’ll live."

He rises and stretches his arms. "If I start quoting affirmations in the locker room, the guys will riot."

"I’ll make sure to laminate your man card before that happens."

Something changes in his expression—amusement, maybe even appreciation—but it’s fleeting. He heads to the door.

Before he leaves, he says quietly, "That breathing thing... it helped more than I thought it would."

I smile. "That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all week."

He smirks over his shoulder. "You must hang with a rough crowd."

"Only professionally," I shoot back. Then I clear my throat, keeping my voice neutral. "And speaking of professionally, about the other night."

He pauses, hand still on the doorknob.

"Yeah... about that." He shifts, turning just enough to glance at me, eyes shadowed but sincere. "I shouldn’t have done it. The kiss. It was..." He trails off, then exhales. "Out of line. I’m sorry."

I nod once, slowly. "Thank you. And you're right, it can't happen again."

He starts to turn away, but then looks back with a smirk just tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Still... it was kinda hot."

My face heats instantly. "Alex."

"What? I’m not saying we should do it again," he says, palms up. "I’m just saying it wasn’t exactly forgettable."

I press my lips together, trying not to smile. "Irrelevant. We keep it professional from here on out."

He nods, eyes gleaming. "Professional. Got it. But if I ever need to visualize something that calms me down... that moment might come in handy."

"Out," I command, pointing at the door.

He chuckles as he steps through. "See you later at the team session, Coach Zen."

I shake my head, still blushing. Damn him. Even his exits are infuriatingly charming. I collect myself, grab my pen, and jot a single word in my notes:

Progress—underlined twice.

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