I give his thigh a playful slap. “Well then, what are we waiting for? Drive me home and sex me up.”
He glances over at me out of the corner of his eye, and a slow smirk appears on his face. “Is that right?”
Nodding, I stick my bottom lip out in a pout and try to look as cute as possible. “I have needs only you can take care of.”
“Fucking hell,” he curses under his breath, and I grin the entire drive back to my apartment as I watch Hunter adjust his growing erection.
There’s an email from the team psychologist on my phone when I wake up from our post-sex nap later that day. I lower the brightness of my screen so I don’t wake Hunter up. He’s cuddled up against me, his chest pressed up against my back. His nose is nestled in my hair, and his sleepy breath tickles my neck.
I don’t ever want to move. I want to stay like this. Safe in his arms. Tucked up against him.
Holding my breath, I open the email, a million thoughts rushing through my mind at what it could be. I’ve been trying to be calm about it all, but I’m kind of freaking out a little. I’ve gone almost thirty years without knowing, but now that Hunter has unintentionally planted the seed in my head, I haven’t been able to think about anything else.
It makes sense. Me being neurodivergent. Everything I’ve read is almost like it’s been pulled straight from my brain. But there’s this tiny fear inside me that questions, what if I’m not?It’ll leave me with more questions than I started with. I think I’m more fearful of them telling me I don’t have it than if I do.
“Is everything okay?” Hunter murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of my neck.
“I’m sorry, did I wake you?”
“Mhm. Your entire body tensed.”
Letting out a heavy sigh, I relax and lean back into his warm embrace. “I had an email from the team psychologist. He’s asked if we can have a video call this afternoon because he has a conflict tomorrow.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
I roll over until I’m looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t know, is it?”
“Does he know what you want to chat to him about?”
I shake my head.
“Maybe having it over a video call isn’t a bad idea, though, considering you need to rest your knee. Why don’t we set you up in the living room, and I’ll stay in here and give Walt a call and check in,” he suggests.
An hour later, I’m sitting on the couch, a cushion propped beneath my knee and my laptop. I click on the video link in the email and wait for it to connect.
Dr. Adams appears, looking all smart in his shirt and tie.
“Hi, Elliot. Sorry for changing the plan last minute. I heard about what happened last night. How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay. It’s only a minor sprain. I should be all good for returning after the All-Star break.”
“Oh, great. I’m really glad to hear that. So, what was it you wanted to discuss? Before we start, I want to reiterate that while this is on video call, it will still remain confidential unless I believe your safety is at risk, in which case I will need to inform management.”
“Yeah, okay.” I nod and avert my gaze to look anywhere except the laptop screen. My heart is pounding in my chest, and my words come out a little shaky and faster than normal. “I… uhh… was wondering if you’d be able to… um, put me forward for an ADHD diagnosis… or whether you’d be able to do it.”
I quickly glance at the screen, and I don’t miss the flicker of surprise on his face before I look away again.
“Okay,” he says slowly. “We can certainly do that. Can I ask what’s brought this on?”
I glance out the window, then down at my lap. I run my fingers along the edge of my laptop and trace the shape of it. I repeat the loop while I talk.
“I’ve met someone recently, like, romantically, and the other week, I was pretty upset about the loss in Edmonton. He mentioned how it was normal for people with ADHD to feel things more because people who are neurodivergent have, like, bigger emotions. And he thought I knew, but obviously, I didn’t… or, well, I don’t know if I do. Then I started reading up on it, and so much of it made sense. Like, I’ve always felt different to everyone else. I’ve often wondered why people didn’t care as much as me about things? They always wanted to play with Blaine, but never with me, so I’d be left out. Then I have these freak-outs over textures and sounds and smells, and I have a weird relationship with food.” I suck in a shaky breath, feeling my face heat with embarrassment. “When I was reading through some threads of people explaining their experiences, I could tick almost all of them off as relatable.” My eyes burn as I admit, “And for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel so alone.”
Slowly, he nods, and I can see the end of his pen moving like he’s writing something down. “I understand. What are you hoping for with receiving a diagnosis?”
“Validation, I guess. That I’m not broken or weird. That there’s a reason for why I am the way I am.”
“That’s understandable. Well, Elliot, it’s certainly something we can do for you.”
