Dr. Halvorsen looks up. “What doyouthink you should do?”
I rub my hands together. “Get to know her again. Maybe, I should start with how others treat her versus how I did?”
“Why?”
“To get a different perspective on who she is today versus the girl I used to know?
“That’s a good start. Which might be exactly what you need.”
“It scares the hell out of me.”
“Why?”
“Because I feel like I don’t have any control,” I admit before a self-derisive snort escapes. “Not exactly something hockey taught me—humility.”
“Listening requires humility and the courage to let go of what you think you know.” He jots down a note before asking, “What did hockey teach you?”
“How to take hits and keep moving.”
“Your career rewarded you for action. For decisiveness. Pushing through discomfort.”
“I take it that doesn’t translate well to relationships,” I finish.
“Especially not ones you’ve already damaged.”
I sit with that for a moment. “I keep thinking if I explain myself well enough, she’ll understand.”
“Understand what?”
“Why I doubted her. Why I believed what was easiest instead of what she told me.”
Dr. Halvorsen’s gaze sharpens. “Do you understand it?”
I hesitate. “I thought I did.”
“And now?”
“I think I hid behind fear,” I say slowly. “I was afraid of losing everything I worked for. My career. My future.”
“Instead, whose future did you risk?” he asks.
I choke out, “Hers.”
Silence settles between us before he says gently, “You can’t apologize your way out of that. You can only change the man you are now.”
“And if that still isn’t enough?”
“Then you accept the consequence,” he replies. “Growth doesn’t guarantee reconciliation. It guarantees integrity. You’ll still be a better man than the one who lost her the first time.”
That’s not comforting. But it’s real. “Where do I even start?” I ask.
“Slow down. Stop asking for forgiveness. Learn to be present without an agenda. Earn trust. It’s the most precious part of a relationship.” Dr. Halvorsen meets my eyes. “You show up as someone worth trusting—even if she never chooses you again.”
The words sit heavy in my chest throughout the rest of the session. When it’s over, I step into the hallway, the weight of it settling in.
There’s no such thing as a guaranteed win.
The only thing I can do is become someone who might deserve a woman like Amy—whether she ever comes back to me or not.
