Updated Mar 22, 2026 • ~9 min read
Chapter 10: The Full Story
POV: Rory
Rory – MARGOT KNOWS
Rory is at her desk writing an article about the Frost’s power play efficiency when Margot appears with coffee and a bagel and an expression that clearly says “we need to talk and you’re not going to like it,” and Rory immediately knows her best friend has figured out something about Henrik that Rory has been carefully not discussing for the past three weeks of secret dating.
“You’re sleeping with the hockey player,” Margot says without preamble, setting the coffee down with enough force that some of it sloshes over the rim. “Don’t bother denying it. You’ve got that glow. The one people get when they’re having regular incredible sex with someone they actually like.”
“I don’t have a glow,” Rory says, but she’s absolutely glowing and they both know it, has been glowing since Henrik first told her he was falling in love with her and she started letting herself believe that maybe this could actually work. “And even if I was seeing someone, which I’m not confirming, that’s my private business.”
“Except it’s not private if you’re sleeping with a player you cover professionally,” Margot points out, sliding into the chair across from Rory’s desk with the determination of someone preparing for a long intervention. “That’s a massive conflict of interest that could tank your career. So yes, your private business becomes my business when my best friend is making decisions that could destroy everything she’s worked for.”
Rory looks around the newsroom—making sure no one’s close enough to overhear this conversation—and then admits quietly, “Okay. Yes. I’m seeing Henrik. The Swedish center. We’ve been dating for about three weeks. It started complicated and it’s stayed complicated but I actually like him and he actually likes me and we’re being careful to keep work and personal completely separate.”
“Are you insane?” Margot asks, but there’s concern beneath the judgment. “You learned this lesson with Carlos. Athletes are bad news. They cheat, they prioritize their careers over relationships, they break hearts as a hobby—”
“Henrik’s not Carlos,” Rory interrupts firmly, because she’s tired of that comparison, tired of being told that all athletes are the same when Henrik has spent weeks proving he’s different. “He’s patient and honest and he actually communicates instead of disappearing when things get hard. He’s nothing like my ex.”
“They all say that at the beginning,” Margot says gently. “And then six months in you find out he’s been sleeping with someone in every city they travel to and you’re devastated all over again.”
“It’s not like that with Henrik,” Rory insists. “We talk about boundaries and expectations. He knows my job matters and he’s never asked me to compromise my ethics. He’s—he’s good to me. In ways Carlos never was.”
Margot studies her for a long moment, and then she says more quietly, “You’re falling for him. Like actually falling, not just enjoying the sex.”
“Maybe,” Rory admits. “Probably. He told me he’s falling in love with me and I couldn’t say it back but I think I am. I think I’m in love with him and it terrifies me because what if you’re right? What if he turns out to be like Carlos eventually? What if I’m just repeating the same pattern with a different Swedish accent?”
“Or,” Margot offers carefully, “what if he’s actually different? What if not every athlete is going to hurt you? What if you’re allowed to take a risk on someone who treats you well?”
“I don’t know how to trust that,” Rory says, and there are tears threatening now which is ridiculous because she’s at work and she’s supposed to be writing about hockey strategy, not having emotional breakdowns about her secret relationship. “Carlos destroyed my ability to believe that athletes can be faithful. That they can prioritize a relationship when their entire career is about being worshipped by strangers.”
“Then make Henrik prove it,” Margot suggests. “Don’t just take his word that he’s different—watch his actions. See if he follows through on promises. Pay attention to how he treats you when it’s inconvenient or complicated. And Rory? Be honest with yourself about red flags. Don’t ignore warning signs because you want this to work.”
“I won’t,” Rory promises. “I’m watching. Carefully. So far he’s been… perfect. Which is almost more scary because perfection doesn’t last.”
“Sometimes it does,” Margot says. “Sometimes people are actually who they present themselves to be. Sometimes the good guy is genuinely good.” She pauses, then adds, “But you’re right to be careful. This situation is complicated. If your editor finds out, you’re probably fired. So make sure Henrik is worth that risk.”
“He is,” Rory says, surprising herself with the certainty. “I think he’s worth it.”
Margot reaches across the desk and squeezes Rory’s hand. “Then I support you. Cautiously. With lots of reservations. But I support you choosing to be happy even if it’s risky.”
“Thanks,” Rory says, squeezing back. “And Margot? You can’t tell anyone. Not even your photographer friends. This stays between us.”
“Vault,” Margot promises, miming locking her lips. “Though for the record, you should probably tell Henrik about Carlos. About what actually happened. If you’re going to trust him not to repeat the pattern, he should know what that pattern was.”
Margot leaves and Rory sits at her desk staring at her half-written article while thinking about her ex-husband—about finding evidence of cheating in hotel receipts and text messages, about confronting him and having him admit it with casual indifference like fidelity was optional, about the divorce that followed and the career she had to rebuild after spending years prioritizing his baseball schedule over her journalism ambitions.
Henrik should know that story.
Deserves to understand why she’s so guarded, why she’s constantly waiting for him to fail, why admitting love feels impossible when the last person she loved destroyed her ability to trust.
She texts him that night: *Can we talk? In person. Something I need to tell you about my ex.*
Henrik’s response comes immediately: *Of course. My place or yours?*
*Yours,* Rory sends back. *30 minutes.*
She drives to Henrik’s apartment with her stomach in knots, and when he opens the door he must see something in her expression because he immediately pulls her inside and wraps her in a hug that feels safe instead of suffocating.
“What happened?” Henrik asks quietly, still holding her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Rory says, pulling back enough to see his face. “I just… Margot knows about us. She figured it out. And she asked if you know about Carlos—about what actually happened with my ex—and I realized you don’t. You know we were married and it ended badly, but you don’t know the details.”
“You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready,” Henrik says carefully. “I won’t push.”
“I want to tell you,” Rory says, and she means it even though the story is painful and embarrassing and reveals how completely she failed to protect herself the first time she loved an athlete. “So you understand. Why I’m the way I am. Why trust is hard.”
They sit on Henrik’s couch and Rory tells him everything—about meeting Carlos when she was twenty-five and he was a rising star in MLB, about getting married too fast because she thought love was enough, about following him through trades and seasons while her own journalism career stalled because she was always the supportive wife instead of the ambitious professional, about finding evidence of cheating in his second season with the White Sox and confronting him only to discover it had been happening the entire marriage, about the divorce that left her financially stable but emotionally destroyed, about spending two years rebuilding her career and her walls and her ability to believe she deserved better than being someone’s convenient wife.
Henrik listens without interrupting, and when Rory finishes he says quietly, “I’m not going to cheat on you. I know that’s what everyone says and you have no reason to believe me over him, but I need you to know—infidelity isn’t something I’m capable of. My father cheated on my mother before he left. I watched what it did to her. I would never do that to someone I care about.”
“People always think they’re capable of being better until they’re not,” Rory says, but she wants to believe him, desperately wants to trust that Henrik is different.
“Then let me prove it,” Henrik says. “Over time. Through actions instead of words. I can’t undo what Carlos did to you. But I can show you that not every athlete is going to hurt you. That some of us actually mean our promises.”
“Okay,” Rory says, and she lets Henrik pull her close, lets herself believe for tonight that maybe he’s telling the truth, that maybe love doesn’t always end in betrayal.
They don’t have sex that night—just lie together on Henrik’s couch talking about childhoods and dreams and fears until it’s late enough that Rory should go home but early enough that she doesn’t want to leave the warmth of being held by someone who knows her worst story and hasn’t run away.
“Stay,” Henrik says quietly, echoing her words from weeks ago. “I don’t want you to be alone after talking about that.”
Rory stays.
Falls asleep in Henrik’s arms.
And thinks that maybe—just maybe—trusting him is worth the risk of getting hurt again.
🔥
END CHAPTER 10
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