Page 37 of My Pucked Up Enemy

She nods slowly, studying me with those steady eyes. "Control must’ve been important growing up. Your brother’s military. He runs a martial arts studio. You’re an elite athlete. That’s not coincidence. That’s survival."

I clear my throat. "I used to be terrified of messing up, not just on the ice, but at home too."

She stays still. "Tell me more."

"Dad was... intense. There was no such thing as ‘good enough.’ You failed, you paid for it. Not fists. Just... disappointment. Silence. Cold."

"That’s a punishment all its own," she says quietly.

I nod. "Don't really want to talk about it. It just slipped out."

She shares her story. "I grew up in a house where achievement was oxygen. Burnout was failure. I collapsed in my second year of grad school and still tried to give a presentation when I woke up."

I blink. "Seriously?"

"Dead serious."

We sit in that shared silence. Pain. Pressure. Performance. All woven in different ways.

Then I ask, “You ever feel like if you stop holding it all together, you’ll just disappear?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “All the time. But sometimes, falling apart is where the rebuild starts.”

Our eyes lock. The air transforms.

That kiss flashes back between us like a live wire.

I lean forward without meaning to. She doesn’t pull back.

"Alex," she whispers.

"I know. Boundaries."

We stay right there, inches apart. Desire looming in the room. But no lines crossed. Not today.

Not yet.

***

My house is dark, the hum of the fridge the only sound.

I’m lying in bed, staring at the ceiling like it’s got answers written in glow-in-the-dark paint.

I replay everything.

Nina’s voice. Her laugh. The way she looked at me today.

And how much I wanted to kiss her again. Man, I wanted to rip her damn clothes off.

She sees more than I want her to. And I’m not sure if I hate it… or need it.

Maybe I need it so bad it makes me want to tear the walls down and pull her in. Every session I leave more unraveled—and more addicted.

And the worst part?

I’m starting to want the unraveling.

Even if it wrecks me.

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