She raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Seriously?"
"Maybe a little," I admit. "Worth it though."
"I'm not going to let it happen again," I say suddenly.
Her pen pauses on the page. "The fighting?"
"Getting benched. Letting the team down." I meet her eyes directly. "I'm serious about changing, Doc." I say. "I know everyone thinks it's just talk. That I'll never really get my shit together. But I want to prove them wrong."
"I believe you want to change, Nate."
"But you don't believe I can."
"I didn't say that." She sets her pen down. "Change is possible for anyone who truly commits to it. But it takes work. Consistent effort. And a willingness to develop new coping mechanisms."
"That's what I want your help with." I lean forward again, earnest now. "I need better ways to handle it when I feel that... that heat rising, you know? That moment when everything goes red and all I can think about is hitting something."
She studies me for a moment, her walls slipping just enough that I can see she might be excited about the opportunity.
"Alright," she says finally. "There are techniques we can work on. Breathing exercises, visualization, trigger identification. But they only work if you practice them consistently."
"I will." The words come out more forcefully than I intended. "I mean it, Doc. I'm sick of being the problem child. The guy who can't control himself. The liability."
She tilts her head slightly. "Is that how you see yourself? As a liability?"
I look away, uncomfortable with how easily she cuts to the core of things.
"Sometimes," I admit. "Most of the time, actually. Three teams in five years doesn't exactly scream 'valuable asset'."
"And yet the Blades wanted you back."
"They wanted my scoring back. Not my baggage, though. Nobody wants my baggage."
"I think you underestimate your value." Her voice is quiet but firm. "Coach wouldn't have brought you back if he didn't believe in your potential."
"I’m not sure if he had much choice in the matter."
Elena looks directly into my eyes. "He saw something in you worth investing in. Beyond just your skill on the ice."
"I want to prove him right," I say softly. "And I want to prove to you that I can do this—that I can make these changes."
Our eyes lock, and for a brief moment, the distance between us evaporates. I see an understanding in her gaze—she knows exactly what I mean. This isn't just about hockey anymore. It's about me becoming the kind of man who deserves someone like her.
"We should get started on those techniques," she says, breaking the connection, but her voice has a gentleness to it that wasn't there before. "Let's begin with breathing exercises."
As she guides me through controlled breathing patterns, I focus entirely on her words, her voice. I'm going to master this. I'm going to change. Not just for my career, not just for the team, but for her. Because somewhere along the way, proving myself to Elena Martinez became more important than proving myself to anyone else.
I try to focus on the breathing pattern she's teaching me—in for four, hold for seven, out for eight—but her proximity is fucking with my concentration. She's moved to the chair next to me rather than at her desk, and all I can think about is the subtle movement of her chest as she breathes, and how she smells so damn good. I'm supposed to be focusing on controlling my emotions, but right now, they're running wild in directions that have nothing to do with anger management and breathing techniques.
"You're not breathing, Nate," she says, a hint of amusement in her voice.
I exhale sharply. "Sorry. I’m distracted."
"The point is to focus on your breath, not hold it." She demonstrates again, her belly rising and falling in a slow, controlled rhythm. "When you feel yourself getting triggered, this pulls you back to the present moment."
"Right." I attempt to follow her lead, but my lungs feel tight, like they can't expand properly. Not with her this close. Not with everything unsaid hanging between us.
After a few more attempts, she sits back in her chair, studying me. "You're struggling with this. What can I do to help?"
