Page 73 of Puck Me Twice

“You’d wait that long? You wouldn’t find someone else?”

“It wouldn’t be fair to them,” I shrug. “I don’t ever want to be someone’s second choice, and I would never push someone to be my second choice.”

“How do you know I’m the right choice?

“Because…” I take a deep breath. “I don’t like physical touch. In general, I’m fairly touch averse.”

Vanessa stares at me. “You play hockey.”

“In hockey, they don’t touch me,” I explain. “There’s hitting and checking, and sometimes there’s fighting, but there isn’t physical touch. The sensation of someone else’s hand on me makes my skin crawl. Even something as innocent as a handshake can set me off.”

Purposefully, I reach across the table, and I take her hand.

“I don’t feel like that with you. Even with other people I’ve been close to, women I’ve dated, family members… I didn’t like physical touch.” I squeeze her hand. “It’s not like that with you. I want the innocent physical contact when I’m with you.”

“So that’s why you’re always putting your arm around me or holding my hand,” she says quietly. She cocks her head. “Why don’t you like when I put my hand on your knee?”

Swallowing, I admit: “I like that a little too much.”

Her eyes go wide. “Oh.”

“I’m not…” I exhale. “I’m not good with people. With explaining my thoughts. I don’t think the same way other people do.”

“You’re doing great,” she tells me. “I’m just… surprised. Processing.”

“Why haven’t you dated since you and Andrews…”

Vanessa pauses. “I didn’t want to let anyone get close enough to hurt me again. It was easier to keep things to one night only than risk getting hurt.”

The chaos of my brain goes quiet.

“He really hurt you.”

She nods. “We were talking about getting married, and then three weeks later, he dumped me. On my birthday.” She shrugs. “We… well, we talked.”

“Oh?”

“Last week. He told me some things that… well, I’ve had to reevaluate some things I’ve known for a long time.”

My eyebrows go up.

“I can’t share his secrets,” she adds quickly.

“I’d never ask you to betray his confidence,” I assure her. “I just want you to...”

To find closure. To find peace.

“I don’t hate him anymore,” Vanessa says quietly. “I carried the hurt around for a long, long time. But given what I know now… He wants to be my friend. And I don’t think that’s a bad idea.”

“He cares deeply about you.”

“I know,” she says. “Does that bother you?”

“No. Because if you wanted to be with him, you would be,” I tell her simply. “Instead, you asked me to pretend with you…”

Her face goes pink. “I did, yeah.”

“Why me?” I’ve always wondered. “Was it just because I was there?”