“Promise me, Brennan. You’ll accept whatever answer she gives you, even if it means walking away for her to lead her own life,” my mother adds fiercely.
I want to object. I want to vow I’ll win Amy back but I can’t force that. I have no right to her emotions. Not after the part I played in what she shared. “I will.”
She exhales. “Good.”
I hear my father shift. “Call us again soon,” he says. “And Brennan?”
“Yes, Da?”
“Be better than you were.”
I close my eyes. “I will.”
“Regardless of what happens, you know we love you,” My mother reassures me.
“I love you both. I just wish I liked myself a little more right now.”
The line goes quiet after that, but for the first time in a long time, the lack of noise doesn’t make me panic.
It feels like the beginning of change.
18
WRAPAROUND: PLAYER ATTEMPTS TO STUFF THE PUCK AROUND THE POST
Fortunately, Dr. Halvorsen has a discreet office in Willow Creek. The amiable man I’ve seen lumbering around town is different in this domain. He doesn’t look like someone who lets people bullshit him.
It encourages me even as my stomach knots with fear at this first meeting.How am I supposed to open up to a man who likely knows everything about what happened to Amy?
I’ve been studying him since I entered his office ten minutes ago. Mid-fifties, gray at the temples, wire-rim glasses perched low on his nose, he doesn’t fit my idea of a therapist.
After greeting me and gesturing for me to take a seat, he just waits for me to speak. I can’t prevent my leg from jiggling up and down. Finally, I blurt out, “How does this work?”
His expression doesn’t change—giving me a large clue this isn’t going to be easy. He also doesn’t reassure me he’s going to take it easy on me because I used to be a celebrity. “Therapy’s different for everyone,” he folds his hands together. They lay across a legal pad balanced on his lap.
“Terrific.”
“Let’s start with the most basic question. What brings you in today, Brennan?”
“Do you want the short answer or the honest one?”
“They’re usually the same. People just try to tell themselves they aren’t.”
I stare at the walls. He has multiple degrees intermingled with photos of his family. To my surprise, there’s pictures of him playing hockey. I would have expected for it to have caused more than a dull ache. But ever since I learned what my decisions cost Amy, I’m not as proud of my career as I once was. “I hurt someone. Someone I love.”Someone whose life I want to be in again.
“Woman? Man?”
“Woman.” Immediately, a vision of Amy coming apart in my arms the other night surfaces, causing my hand to shake.
“When did this happen?”
“A long time ago. Eight years—give or take a few months.”
“That’s a long time. What brings you here now?”
“I found out I was wrong—the reasons I hurt her were lies told to drive a wedge between us.”
“How does that make you feel?”
