Page 84 of My Pucked Up Enemy

"Maybe. I want you to come as my guest."

"No maybe. Youaredoing something meaningful. And I think it’s time you let your parents see that, too. Invite them. Invite Coach Derek. I’ll be there. I’ll even wear sequins if it helps the celebration."

"You in sequins is a threat and a promise."

"Damn right."

We both laugh and it feels good.

"Seriously," she says. "Let people celebrate you. Stop hiding. And maybe stop waiting for everything to be perfect before you let anyone in."

My smile fades just a little. Because she’s right. And because I don’t know how to fix this.

"I wish I could talk to Alex without everything feeling like a choice. Him or the job. The team or my future. I just want to be honest without feeling like it’s going to blow up everything."

"You can. It just might hurt. But if it’s real—if it’s worth it—he’ll want to find a way."

I nod, even though she can’t see me. "I don’t want to leave. But this offer... it’s not going to come again."

"Then maybe the question isn’t about staying or leaving," she says. "It’s about what version of your life you want to fight for. The safe one, or the real one."

After we hang up, I sit for a while. Just me, the laptop, and the unsent reply that might change everything.

I decide I’ll speak to Coach Stephens when I get into the office. Not about Alex. Not yet. But about the dinner. The honor. The one thing I’m actually proud to share.

He and Lizzie have been supportive, steady presences from day one. And if there’s anyone who deserves a front row seat to the reason I’m being recognized, it’s them.

Coach might not know every detail of what I’ve done behind the scenes, but he’s trusted me to do it. That matters.

It’s one small step forward toward being seen. Toward not hiding.

***

When I get to the office, Coach is already there, scribbling something on the whiteboard in the conference room. He’s in game-prep mode—focused, clipped, sharp.

I linger in the doorway for a second. He glances over, expression softening just a bit when he sees me.

“Nina,” he says. “You need something?”

“Can I steal you for a minute?”

He caps the marker and waves me in.

I close the door behind me. “This isn’t a crisis. Just… something I wanted to share.”

His brows lift. “That’s either a good setup or a terrible one.”

I laugh. “Good, I hope. I’m being honored at the American Sports Psychological Association dinner next week for the work I’ve done with the team, and the military before that.”

His eyes widen. “That’s incredible, Nina. Well deserved.”

“Thanks,” I say, suddenly nervous. “And I’d really like you and Lizzie to come as my guests. Luckily, it's not a game night.”

He’s quiet for a beat. Then he nods. “We’d be honored. Lizzie especially—she thinks the world of you. We both do.”

That brings a genuine smile to my face. “Thank you. It would mean a lot to have you both there.”

He studies me for a second. “You okay? You don’t look as happy as you should, given that kind of news.”

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