Page 27 of Off-Limits as Puck

Dr. Chelsea Clark

Mental Performance Coach

Chicago Outlaws

I hit send before I can second-guess myself, then turn to the mountain of paperwork that comes with avoiding one player while trying to help twenty-nine others.

My email pings four minutes later.

To:Dr. C. Clark

From:N. Hendrix

Re: Subject:Scheduled Performance Sessions

[Single animated GIF of a man winking]

That’s it. His entire response is a winking GIF.

I stare at it, watching the loop repeat. Wink. Reset. Wink. Reset. It’s simultaneously the most juvenile and most effective response he could have sent. Professional enough that I can’t report it, but personal enough to remind me he’s not playing by my rules.

Another email appears.

To:Dr. C. Clark

From:N. Hendrix

Subject:Forgot attachment

You forgot to attach the forms. But don’t worry, I already know what issues we need to work on.

See you soon, Dr. Clark.

P.S. - Interesting subject line. Especially the “enhancement” part.

I close my laptop harder than necessary.

My phone buzzes. Maddy.

Maddy:Just saw Hendrix’s response to your email. A GIF? Really?

Me:You saw it?

Maddy:He cc’d me. With a note that said, “Per your request for documentation.”

Maddy:Get in line. But also... kind of brilliant?

Me:Whose side are you on?

Maddy:The side that keeps my job. But between us? This is the most interesting thing to happen here in years.

I spend the rest of the hour creating detailed session plans that will keep tomorrow’s appointment clinical and structured. Standardized assessments. Specific protocols. No room for improvisation or personal tangents.

13

I show up to therapy thirty minutes early because I’m a masochist who likes to watch Chelsea panic through her office window.

She’s arranging and rearranging papers on her desk, checking her watch every thirty seconds like I might burst through the door unannounced. The black blazer she’s wearing is buttoned up to her throat—a clear fuck-you to my text message suggestion—but she’s paired it with a pencil skirt that makes me remember exactly how those legs felt wrapped around my waist.

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