A small pause.
“It’s whether you’re willing to believe that she can.”
I sit back, exhaling slowly, my mind already trying to turn it over, pick it apart, make sense of it.
Because wanting her? That part is easy.
But believing she could want me back? That’s the work.
Dr. Hale watches me for a second longer, like she’s letting everything settle before she moves on.
“You’re doing really well, Ty,” she says, and this time there’s a little more weight behind it. “Not just with the work here, but with your awareness. With how you’re applying it in your life.”
I let out a quiet breath, some of that tightness easing again. “Doesn’t feel like it all the time.”
“It rarely does. Growth isn’t always comfortable, and for what it’s worth,” she adds, folding her hands loosely in her lap, “you’re not alone. Not even close.”
I take that on board.
“In the last several years, we’ve seen a significant increase in adults being diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder,” she continues. “Partly because our understanding has improved. Partly because people like you are recognizing patterns in themselves that were missed earlier.”
She tilts her head slightly. “There are a lot of adults—men and women—who went through school, careers, relationships, all without a name for what they were experiencing. They adapted. They masked. They coped.”
That lands.
“Now they’re getting answers,” she says. “And with that comes clarity. Support. Language. You’re part of that group. You’re not behind. You’re someone who finally has the right information.”
I sit with that. It doesn’t fix everything. But, something is steadier.
“And the fact that you’re doing the work while also opening yourself up to a relationship?” she adds, a hint of a smile returning. “That takes courage.”
I huff out a breath, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck. “Feels more like bad timing.”
“Or good timing,” she counters. “You’re learning about yourself in real time. That’s not a disadvantage—it’s an opportunity to build something honest from the start.”
I nod slowly.
“Just don’t decide for her what she’s capable of wanting,” she says. “Let her show you.”
I look over at the clock, realizing we’re at the end.
Dr. Hale stands, signaling the wrap. “I’ll see you next week?”
“Yeah,” I say, pushing to my feet. "You're not getting rid of me now.”
We exchange a quick, easy goodbye, and I step out into the hallway, already reaching for my phone. I turn it back on and immediately?—
Bing
Bing
Bing bing bing…
My phone lights up like it’s having a meltdown. Messages and missed calls stack on the screen faster than I can process.
Lucy.
Liam.
