Page 89 of My Pucked Up Enemy

"You push us, you believe in us, and you somehow still put up with James."

Laughter.

"You say your job is to help us find clarity," I continue. "But you’ve been the clarity we didn’t know we needed."

I raise my glass higher.

"To the smartest, strongest, most stunning woman in the room, and the one who saves us daily. Cheers, Doc."

Everyone joins in.

She mouths, “Thank you.”

I give her that look. The one that says everything else I can’tright now.

Later, as the crowd filters out, I find her near the back doors of the ballroom.

Her parents are chatting with Coach and Lizzie, laughter drifting through the air.

I step closer and brush her hand lightly with mine.

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

She exhales slowly, like she’s finally letting herself feel it. “It still doesn’t feel real.”

I smile. “That’s because you’re not used to people applauding you like they should.”

She laughs, soft and honest. “I’m not used to any of this.”

I squeeze her hand. “Well, get used to it. You’ve built something incredible. We’re all lucky to be part of it.”

She opens her mouth like she wants to say something more, but instead just smiles and squeezes my hand back.

I don’t push.

Just smile back.

She leans into me, resting her head on my chest for just a second. "Thanks for being here tonight. It was a wonderful surprise."

I feel a promise building in my chest. A quiet, unshakable vow forming without words: whatever she needs, whatever comes next, I’ll fight for us. Even if she’s not ready to say it yet... I already have. And now I have to convince her.

Chapter twenty-five

Nina

“Stillcan’tsitstill,huh?”

Dr. Elias Franklin’s voice floats from behind a stack of books as I hover awkwardly just inside his office door.

I offer a sheepish smile. “Some things never change.”

He emerges a second later with his cardigan rumpled and glasses halfway down his nose. He is holding two chipped mugs of black coffee like he’s been expecting me since sunrise.

“You always did come in here looking like you had twelve tabs open in your brain,” he says, handing me a mug and gesturing to the chair across from his desk.

“Only twelve?” I settle into the familiar, squeaky seat. “I’ve matured.”

His eyes twinkle with something that lives between fondness and challenge. “We’ll see.”

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