Page 69 of My Pucked Up Enemy

"If they try to get me to catch one of you guys during a trust fall, I'm only catching the guys under 5'10" and weigh less than me." Parker says, eyes still fixed on the road.

"What happened to team spirit?" Connor asks.

"My back ached for days after that."

I chime in. "Are you sure you didn't hurt your back from some other activity, perhaps with Grace?"

"I don't kiss and tell, asshole."

Connor snorts from the passenger seat. "Poor Alex, living vicariously through Parker and Grace."

We’re still mid-laugh when the tires crunch over gravel and Parker pulls into the lodge driveway. The retreat’s only a half-hour outside Detroit, but it feels like a different world, with tall trees, quiet air, and a lodge that looks like someone built it from Pinterest boards and hunting lodge blueprints. There’s wood beams, a wraparound porch, fire pits, and cabins dotting the edge of a clearing.

As soon as we reach the parking lot, players start filing out of different cars. James has his duffel slung over one shoulder, already yelling across the lot to Ethan. Mikey’s balancing two coffee cups and a phone, muttering about Wi-Fi. And then I see her.

Nina.

She’s standing on the porch of the main lodge…hair piled up in some messy knot, clipboard in hand, wearing a fitted black tee and jeans that somehow manage to look both effortless and criminal. She’s smiling at something Coach says, her eyes sharp and focused, totally in charge.

And I feel that punch.

I get out of the truck, throw my duffel over my shoulder, and do my best to play it cool. But the second her eyes graze across me, all bets are off.

She nods when she sees me, quick and professional. No smile. No spark. But I can feel the hard-on in my pants start to move.

I head into the lodge to check in and swipe one of the cabins—first come, first served, and veterans get dibs. The keys are labeled by number. I grab Cabin 3.

Connor whistles when he peeks in. "Romantic getaway for one?"

"Better than listening to James snore."

We drop our stuff and head back out to the main lodge where Coach gathers the group.

"Alright, listen up!" he says, clapping once. "Today’s not about drills or stats. It’s about trust. About being a team when the puck’s not in play."

He nods toward Nina. "Doc’s got the playbook today. Try not to embarrass yourselves."

Nina clicks her pen. "We’re heading into the woods. No skates. No sticks. Just you, your partner, and your ability not to be a complete jackass."

Laughter breaks out. Even Coach chuckles.

She continues, "First challenge is a blindfold relay. We are doing a blindfold exercise again, because it needs work from when we did it on the ice. Here's how it works. One of you leads, the other’s blind. Your job is to guide your partner through a marked path using only your voice. Tell them exactly what to do—walk straight for about ten paces, turn around that big oak tree, circle the flower patch near the end, and return to the starting point. If they end up in the brush or wrapped around a tree, that’s on your guidance. Since we have an odd number, I’ll be jumping in too. Lucky you. Winners get points for prizes at the end of the retreat."

We split into pairs. I volunteer way too fast.

"Damn, Chadwick," James says. "You practically sprinted for that slot."

"I just don’t trust you not to walk me into a creek," I fire back.

Nina hands me a blindfold. "You’re up. Don’t sue me if you end up in the pond."

"If I go in, I’m dragging you with me."

I slide the blindfold on. Her voice floats to me, low and clear. "Two steps forward. Right. No, your other right, Captain Hotshot."

"Real professional."

"Real effective," she says, tapping my elbow to adjust. Her hand lingers half a second longer than it needs to. Not that I’m counting.

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