Page 53 of My Pucked Up Enemy

He crosses his arms, interested. "What kind of activities are we talking?"

"Mindset-centered," I say. "Reflection exercises, controlled conflict resolution games, team trust-building work. I’d also like to include competitive off-ice games, fun stuff that still taps into group dynamics. There’s a lot to be said for what men share over that kind of stuff.”

He snorts. "You trying to get them to cry in the woods like summer camp?"

"Not cry. Connect. Remember what it feels like to rely on each other for something outside the rink. And more importantly, what it feels like to win as a unit, no matter the arena."

He nods slowly. "Logistics might be a nightmare, but... damn, I like it. Submit the proposal officially and loop in ops. If we can make it work, we do it."

I grin. "I’ll get started right away."

"Great. And Nina, be careful," he says, voice softer now. "Not because you’re doing something wrong. Because sometimes... proximity gets messy."

My spine stiffens, but I keep my face neutral. "Are we still talking about the team?"

"We’re talking about you. And Alex."

I don’t answer right away.

He sighs. "I’ve been doing this a long time, Nina. I see things. And I don’t mean that in a bad way. I’ve watched that guy play a hundred games like he was chasing ghosts. Then after a few sessions with you? He calms. He clears."

I look down at my notebook. "That’s the job."

"And I believe you’re doing it well. But I also know that look in your eyes, and his. I had it once too, with Lizzie."

I glance up. "Really?"

He nods, slow and reflective. "Ten years ago, we were fire and oil. She was driven, brilliant, and a little scary. I loved her anyway. But I chose hockey first."

I sit quietly, sensing more is coming.

"When she came to Detroit and I saw her again, I knew. I’d made the wrong call. Took me years, but we figured it out."

His voice is steady, but the weight behind it hits me. I don’t ask for details. He doesn’t offer them. We sit in the quiet for a beat.

I swallow hard. "There is something there," I say, the words tasting like a confession. "Between me and Alex. I'm trying to keep it at bay for the sake of the team, my job, everything. And because Karen from HR has made it clear she's watching me like a hawk."

Coach doesn’t flinch. He just listens.

"I’ve set boundaries," I add, more defensively than I mean to. "I’ve been clear with him. Professional only. No lines crossed. Not again."

He nods, still quiet. But his silence feels like understanding, not judgment.

"I’m not judging you," he says. "I just want you to be smart. Because if this thing with Alex... if it’s real? You owe it to yourself to figure it out the right way."

I nod, throat tight. "Like I said, I’ve set boundaries."

"Good. Keep them. But don’t lie to yourself. That’ll mess you up worse than any scandal."

A silence stretches between us again, comfortable this time.

"He respects you," Coach adds. "More than you probably realize."

That settles something in me, even as it stirs something else.

"Thank you. In my profession, that's so important."

Coach gives a small smile. "Just make sure you don’t lose a good thing—whatever it turns out to be—because you were too scared to admit it existed."

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