Page 48 of Gamechanger

"Reply to Finn's text," he said. "Be honest about where you are emotionally, but also let him know you're working on being better. Can you do that?"

I took a deep breath, fingers hovering over my phone's keyboard. "I can try."

As Dr. Chen quietly excused herself, I began to type, each word a small act of bravery. The road ahead was uncertain, fraught with challenges I couldn't begin to imagine. But I felt a glimmer of hope.

Chapter fourteen

Finn

The antiseptic smell of the clinic hallway burned my nostrils as I waited outside Dr. Chen's office. My fingers drummed an erratic beat on my plastic chair, each tap echoing the worry in my chest. The clock on the wall ticked away, its hands moving with agonizing slowness. I'd been here often enough in the past few weeks that the receptionist, a kind-faced woman with long grey hair, offered me a sympathetic smile.

When the door finally creaked open, Moose emerged, his large frame seeming to fill the narrow hallway. His eyes were red-rimmed but clearer than I'd seen in weeks, like storm clouds finally parting after days of rain.

I stood, my heart doing that familiar flip it always did when I saw him. "Hey, you," I said, my voice softer than I intended. "How'd it go?"

Moose's broad shoulders rose and fell in a heavy sigh. He ran a hand up over his head. "Tough," he admitted, his voice rough. "But good. Dr. Chen's got me digging into some old stuff. It's like... like pulling out splinters I didn't even know were there."

I nodded, wishing I could do more than just listen. The past few weeks had been a blur of worry and helplessness, watching Moose struggle with demons I couldn't fight for him.

"You up for grabbing a coffee?" I asked, gesturing toward the exit. "Or do you need some time to decompress?"

Moose's lips quirked up in a small smile, but it was more than I'd seen in days. "Coffee sounds great. Maybe that place with the ridiculously oversized mugs?"

I chuckled, relief washing over me. "Sounds perfect." I smirked slightly. "My hands always look even tinier holding those things."

As we walked out of the clinic, Moose's hand found mine, his palm rough and warm against my smaller fingers. The simple gesture spoke volumes—it was Moose reaching out, something he'd struggled to do since his breakdown.

"Thanks for being here," he said quietly as we stepped into the crisp Portland afternoon. A light drizzle misted the air, clinging to Moose's eyelashes in a way that made my breath catch. "I know it's not easy."

I swallowed hard, pushing down the lump in my throat. "I wouldn't be anywhere else," I replied, giving his hand a squeeze.

But even as I said it, doubts gnawed at me. Was I enough? Could I really support Moose through this when I was still wrestling with my own insecurities? The press of his hand in mine felt like an anchor, but also a reminder of how much smaller I was, how much less I brought to the table.

We walked in comfortable silence toward the coffee shop, the rhythm of our steps in sync despite our height difference. I snuck glances at Moose's profile, noting the tension in his jaw, the furrow between his brows that hadn't quite smoothed out. But there was something else too—a determined set to his shoulders that hadn't been there before.

I settled into an oversized armchair, my feet barely touching the floor, while Moose sank into the one across from me, the furniture creaking slightly under his weight. The coffee shop hummed with quiet conversation and the hiss of espresso machines.

"So," I started, wrapping my hands around the comically large mug. "Do you want to talk about the session, or would you rather I regale you with tales of Blaise's latest locker room antics?"

Moose's lips twitched. "As tempting as Blaise's drama sounds, I think... I think I want to talk about it. If that's okay?"

I nodded, surprised but pleased. "Of course. I'm all ears."

He took a deep breath, his fingers tracing the rim of his mug. "Dr. Chen had me talk about my dad today. About how I always felt like I was disappointing him by not being... I don't know, more of a 'man's man' or whatever."

"That must've been rough," I said softly, resisting the urge to reach across and take his hand.

"Yeah, it was. But it also felt... liberating? Like I was finally admitting it to myself." He paused, taking a sip of his coffee. "I realized I've been carrying around this idea of what a 'real man' should be, you know? And I've never fit that mold."

I snorted. "Join the club. I think I left that mold somewhere around 5'7"."

Moose's eyes met mine, a spark of understanding passing between us. "Exactly. But Dr. Chen... she helped me see that maybe the mold is the problem, not us."

"That's... wow," I said, genuinely impressed. "That's huge."

He nodded, a small smile playing at his lips. "Yeah. It's still sinking in, but... it feels good. Like maybe I can stop trying to be something I'm not."

"I like who you are," I blurted out, feeling heat rise in my cheeks.

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