Chapter 17
TY
By the time I get home from practice, I’m feeling it. Not in a dramatic, can’t-move way, but in that low, steady kind of tiredness that settles into your shoulders and stays there. The kind that says you did something today, whether you got it right or not.
I drop my keys by the door, toe off my shoes, and make my way over to the window.
The Potomac stretches out below, dark and slow, catching the last of the light. It’s quieter up here. Not silent, but…manageable. One thing at a time. Water moving. Cars in the distance. Nothing overlapping in a way that makes my brain work overtime to sort it.
My phone is still in my hand, with Dr. Hale’s text still open. Change of plans. Saturday for my appointment this week, not Monday as we’d scheduled. She has to go out of town unexpectedly and needs to adjust.
I scrub a hand over the back of my neck, already doing the math. It means leaving practice early. Not ideal. Not when things are just starting to click with the girls. Not when I said I’d be there. Not when I know Vivian’s going to be there, too.
I exhale slowly, glancing out over the water like it’s going to solve it for me. It doesn’t, and I need to answer her, so I type out a quick response.
No problem.
And hit send. I’ve been pep-talking myself all week so that I could ask Vivian out on Saturday and now, well, now my therapist has gone and blown a hole wide open in my plans.
Thanks, Dr. Hale. That was for sure unmapped.
Out of habit, my thumb taps the screen, opening my messages. Her name’s right there. I can ask her now.
I don’t overthink it. If I do, I won’t send it.
If it’s not too late in the day, can I take you to dinner tonight?
I stare at it for a second, but the three dots pop up almost immediately. That was fast.
Vivian:
Yes.
Simple. One word. No qualifiers. I like it.
Great. There’s a place by the water. Dumplings are solid.
The dots again.
Vivian:
…
I’m never going to say no to dumplings. What time?
I look at my watch.
Six?
Vivian:
Perfect. Send me the address and I’ll see you there.
I’m early, and not by accident.
The place was already busy when I arrived.
It’s got low lighting, a warm atmosphere, and there’s a kind of steady noise that doesn’t get under my skin.
Plates clink, voices blend, music threads through it all in a way that actually makes sense for me.
I’ve picked out a table near the window, best one in my humble opinion, two waters sit untouched, and I’ve already memorized the menu twice over.
I’m not nervous. No way. At least, this is what I’m in the middle of telling myself when the door opens, and I look up without thinking.
And then I don’t look away. I can’t.
Vivian steps inside looking like the perfect blend of classy and sexy, but also put together in a way that makes her whole ensemble feel intentional. Her long brown hair falls loose over her shoulders, green eyes catching the light as she scans the room, moving quickly until they land on me.
And then…then, she smiles.
I push up from my chair before I can think too hard about it.
“Hey,” she says, sliding into the seat across from me, a glimmer of mischief in her expression. “This was a nice surprise.”
“Yeah,” I say, dropping back into my chair, reaching for my glass mostly to give my hands something to do. “Figured I’d switch things up a little.”
Her brows lift, curious now.
“Since we like honesty…”
“We do,” she agrees, a chuckle under her words.
“I was going to ask you out on Saturday, but I found out today I’ve got to leave practice a little early, so…” I tip my head, like that explains it. “Moved up the timeline.”
She laughs and leans back in her chair, looking at me like she’s trying to figure something out.
“Wow,” she says. “You are very strategic with the way you think about things.”
I huff out a quiet breath, something close to a smile pulling at my mouth. “That a problem?”
“No, it most certainly isn’t,” she says as she picks up a menu. “So, what’s good here?”
“Dumplings,” I say without hesitation. “Pork if you’re playing it safe. Chili oil if you’re not.”
Her mouth curves. “I like that those are my only two options.”
The waiter appears, sliding in with practiced timing. We order—dumplings, noodles to share, something I’ve had before and something she hasn’t—and then he’s gone again just as quickly, leaving a small pot of jasmine tea between us.
She reaches for it first, pouring like she’s done this a hundred times before. Steam curls up between us, softening the space.
“Shame you’re not going to be there Saturday,” she says, handing me a cup before wrapping her hands around her own. “I was going to do charms with the girls this week.”
“Charms?” I glance up.
“Yeah.” Her eyes light a little, like they always do when she talks about jewelry or design. “I’ve got a whole selection. Little icons, basically. I was going to have them each pick one for someone else. See what they choose.”
“Hannah?”
She points at me. “Exactly.”
I shake my head, smiling into my tea.
“I think it’ll be interesting,” she says as she lowers her cup slightly. “So, you’re cutting out early. Does Emma know?”
I busy myself with turning my cup slightly against the table. “Haven’t told her yet.”
Her brows lift.
“She’ll be okay with it.”
Vivian shoots me a playful look. “You sure about that?”
I let out a breath, rubbing the back of my neck. If I’m going to open up and really lean into honesty, and be myself, I feel like it’s time. Time to reveal the hidden parts.
“I—” I stop, recalibrate. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”
Her expression shifts immediately.
“Oh boy,” she says lightly, her expression morphing into something that’s not alarm, more like curiosity. “That sounds serious.”
“It’s not serious.” I shake my head. “Not like that.”
She waits while I take a minute to gather my thoughts, trying to line up what I want to say to her in a way that makes sense.
“I just…I feel like where we’re at right now—we’re friends, right?”
She blinks at me, then nods slowly. “Yeah. I mean, we’ve kind of been building to that.”
“In a backwards way, right? Since we kissed…”
Her mouth twitches. “Yes, we kissed. A few times now.”
“Right.” I nod once, heat flushing to my cheeks. What I wouldn't give to have my lips slide across hers right now, but I digress. “But even with that…I think there has to be a foundation there. Like, actual friendship.”
“Without a doubt.” She studies me for a second, then tips her head. “I feel like you’re getting a little stuck in the details right now. What are you trying to tell me?”
I open my mouth, lining everything up I want to say, when the waiter reappears with our food, setting plates down between us, the moment folding in on itself before I can catch it.
We both shift automatically, thanking him, adjusting chopsticks, making space. It buys me a second. Maybe two.
“Ty,” she says once he’s gone. “I feel like you really want to tell me something.”
I exhale slowly.
“It’s not just me being strategic. Or getting stuck in details.” I glance down at the table, then back up at her. “I used to think that’s what it was. That everything just felt louder. That people were loud. Or I was off somehow.”
Her brows pull together, concern edging in now.
“I didn’t really have a better explanation,” I add. “So I just…worked around it.”
“Ty,” she says quietly, her hand reaching over to cover mine as if it's on auto-pilot. “What are you talking about?”
I hold her gaze, then take a gulp of air.
“I’m leaving early on Saturday because I have a therapy appointment.”
She nods almost immediately. “I have a therapist. I think everyone probably should at some point.”
A small breath leaves me. “Yeah.” I nod. “It’s just…mine’s been about something specific.”
It’s literally now or never.
“I found out recently I’m autistic.” I say it steady, even if it doesn’t feel that way underneath. “Level 1, apparently. I’ve spent most of my life compensating, and I didn’t know that’s what I was doing.”
The words feel charged as they fall off my lips, but when I look up her expression doesn’t shut down. Doesn’t pull away. She stays open, listening, and waiting.
“Playing in the NHL,” I add, a little quieter now, “kind of pushed everything to the surface.” I lift one shoulder in a half-shrug. “So.” A small exhale. “There you go.”
For a second, she doesn’t say anything. Then her head tilts slightly, eyes moving over my face like she’s lining something up.
“Oh,” she says softly. “Okay.”
I nod once, waiting for the shift. The distance. The polite version of this conversation. It doesn’t come.
Instead, her mouth curves, something almost amused slipping in.
“So that’s why you’re magic.”
I fight the urge to shake my head from side to side with great dramatic effect. “I’m magic?”
She laughs, the sound warm and easy, like I didn’t just drop something heavy between us. “Yeah. You kind of are.”
I stare at her for a second, trying to figure out if she’s joking. But one quick look at her tells me that she’s not.
“I mean it,” she adds, setting her cup down.
“You notice things most people miss. Like with the girls—you don’t just run drills, you pick up on who needs space, who needs a push, who’s about to check who just to see if they’ll react.
I saw you when you called Hannah out before she even knew she was about to do something. ”
I huff quietly. “She was winding up for it.”
“Exactly.” She points at me like that proves something. “You see things through a different lens than the rest of us. Usually before the rest of us even realize anything’s happening.”
I don’t say anything, so she keeps going. “And you don’t overwhelm them. You don’t talk just to fill space. When you say something, they hear it.”
Her gaze flicks to the table, then back up to me.
“You give things room. Most people wouldn’t do that, Ty,” she says gently. “That’s not something to fix.”