Chapter 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?”
“Ashamed. Weak—and not because of some damn injury.” I tap the side of my head to make my point. “I’m sick with the knowledge there’s nothing I can do to make up for it.”
He lifts a pen and jots down some notes before asking me, “What kind of hurt?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you cheat on her?”
“No.”
“Did you betray her?”
“Does not giving her a chance to defend herself count as betrayal?”
“I would say yes. What would she say?”
I think about the devastation on Amy’s face that day in her dorm at OPU. Then I reconcile it with the woman who threw me out of her apartment after I took her to places I’ve only dreamed about in the time we’ve been apart. “Absolutely.”
“So, tell me, how did you betray your…”
My voice is barely audible. “Ex-girlfriend. Amy.” But she was so much more than that.
I expect to feel the weight of his condemnation, but to my shock it doesn’t come.
Instead he takes more notes before sharing, “People who impact your life significantly enough to cause long term trauma are generally people you place the most trust in. The emotional impact of betrayal increases as a result.” That’s when he raises his eyes from the paper to meet mine. “What does that make you feel?”
“Hopeless.” A feeling she lived with for far too long.
“That kind of wound takes a long time to heal and often doesn’t heal cleanly.”
I bob my head. “I want to fix that.”
“I assume you apologized.”
“As soon as possible.”
“Who was it for—her or you?”
I open my mouth and snap it shut. He goes on, “Saying you’re sorry is important. Expressing remorse. But you have to understand the hurt you caused the other person—give them the space to express that in whatever way they feel comfortable.”
I blurt out, “I’ve missed her the entire time we were apart.”
“Would she recognize that?” he counters.
“No.”
“Yet, I presume you want her back.”
It’s not a question. “Yes.”
Dr. Halvorsen leans back in his chair. “What if your goals for therapy are not aligned with hers”?
My body tightens. “What? Why?”
He holds up his fingers and ticks off, “You’ve apologized. Good. But you need to sit with why Amy was hurt. She’s done so for all this time and is likely not the same person you hurt.”
“What does that mean, sit with why she was hurt? I know the answer to that. I didn’t believe her.”
“Was that the real reason, Brennan?”
I think back to the way I stormed into her room. The way I refused to listen. The way I dismissed her excuses. The way I reduced her trust. My head drops between my shoulders “I guess not.”
“I’m glad you recognize that because being remorseful means reflection. You finding out the truth and apologizing doesn’t mean you’re welcome in her rebuilt world. It doesn’t mean you—the man sitting here today—are prepared to be there for her differently.”
“I didn’t come here to be told I don’t deserve—”
“I didn’t say you do or don’t deserve anything,” he interrupts, calm but firm. “I’m clarifying that want isn’t the same thing as readiness.”
That hits harder than I expect.
“She doesn’t trust me. If I’m being honest, she shouldn’t. I walked away when she needed me most.”
“What do you think you need to do now?” he asks.
“Make it right.”
He tilts his head. “Define what right means to you.”
I hesitate. “Prove I’ve changed. Show her I’m not a bad guy. Maybe... ”
“Maybe be a part of her life?”
I nod. “I want that more than anything. What do I have to do to make that happen?”
Dr. Halvorsen taps his pen against the paper. “You’re trying to keep score over something that isn’t meant to have a scoreboard.”
“You think I’m trying to win something?”
“Aren’t you?”
I frown. “I’m trying to fix what I broke. I want to be enough for her.”
“Or are you trying to ensure the outcome by marking off all the things you think you need to do?”
I open my mouth. Close it.
He continues, “Amy isn’t a prize, Brennan. She’s a human being with a heart, emotions, and years of her own experiences regardless of whatever relationship she’ll permit you to build with her”
I bristle thinking of the years I could have been in her life. “I should have been there.”
“Whose choice was it not to be?”
“I didn’t know!” I shout. “I was lied to.”
“You absolutely had a choice.”
“I had—”
“—misinformation, certainly. But you still made the decisions. You still chose to confront her. You still refused to give her a chance to explain.”
I have no way to defend myself. Dr. Halvorsen shakes his head. “Therapy isn’t about grinding out the work to say you did it. You have to accept accountability. Endure examining your own choices that led you to where you are today.”
“So what do I do next?” I drag my hands through my hair.
“We start by examining who you were when you made the choices that hurt her. Then we figure out how to give you tools so that man doesn’t have the option to steer your life.”
I swallow. “I didn’t think I was that guy.”
“Most people don’t. That’s why they repeat the patterns over and over.” He scribbles a few notes.
I tip my head back to stare at the ceiling. “What do you think I should do?”
Dr. Halvorsen looks up. “What do you think 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.