Updated Mar 22, 2026 • ~10 min read
Chapter 11: Already Gone
POV: Henrik
Henrik – ALREADY GONE
Henrik realizes he’s completely and irreversibly in love with Rory Castillo approximately two weeks after she tells him about Carlos and the cheating and the way her ex-husband destroyed her ability to trust athletes, when he’s watching her conduct an interview with the team’s goalie and she’s asking questions about save techniques that are so intelligent and insightful that the goalie actually pauses mid-answer to say “that’s the best question anyone’s asked me all season,” and Henrik feels his chest swell with pride that this brilliant, damaged, incredible woman has chosen to take a risk on him despite every reason not to.
He’s been in love with her for longer than two weeks—probably since the pregnancy scare when she looked at him with fear and vulnerability and still let him hold her hand in the doctor’s office, definitely since she admitted she was falling but couldn’t say it out loud yet—but watching her work with the kind of passionate dedication that makes it obvious why journalism matters to her, seeing the way she lights up when athletes give her real answers instead of canned responses, Henrik knows with absolute certainty that this isn’t just attraction or crisis bonding or the backwards emotional journey of sleeping together before actually knowing each other.
This is love.
Real, consuming, terrifying love for a woman who’s still holding pieces of herself back because the last person she loved shattered her ability to believe in permanence.
“You’re staring,” Lucas says quietly, appearing next to Henrik at the practice facility gym where Henrik is supposed to be doing strength training but has instead been watching Rory through the window for the past ten minutes like some kind of obsessive stalker. “Again. Very subtle.”
“I’m in love with her,” Henrik admits, because lying to Lucas seems pointless when his teammate has been watching this relationship develop from secret hookups to actual feelings for the past month. “Completely. Hopelessly. In a way that probably makes me stupid considering how complicated this situation is.”
“Have you told her?” Lucas asks.
“Yeah,” Henrik confirms. “She can’t say it back yet. Her ex fucked her up pretty badly. But she’s trying. Getting closer. I can wait.”
“Can you though?” Lucas challenges. “Wait indefinitely while she processes trauma and decides if she trusts you? That sounds exhausting.”
“It’s worth it,” Henrik says simply. “She’s worth it. I’d wait years if that’s what she needed to feel safe loving me back.”
Lucas is quiet for a moment, watching Rory finish her interview and pack up her recorder with efficient movements that speak to years of practice, and then he says carefully, “You know this is going to come out eventually. The relationship. Someone’s going to notice the way you look at her, or see you together somewhere you thought was private, and then both your careers get complicated in ways you might not be prepared for.”
“I know,” Henrik says, and the knowledge sits heavy in his stomach because he wants to go public, wants to claim Rory as his girlfriend in ways that don’t involve hiding in apartments and sneaking around like they’re doing something shameful instead of building something real. “She’s not ready for that yet. Needs to protect her journalism credibility. So we stay secret.”
“For how long?” Lucas presses.
“However long she needs,” Henrik says, even though the secrecy is starting to wear on him in ways he wasn’t expecting—the inability to touch her casually at team events, the pretending they barely know each other when journalists are around, the constant awareness that discovery would complicate her career more than his.
Lucas leaves to actually do the workout they’re supposed to be doing, and Henrik forces himself to stop watching Rory and focus on weight training while trying not to count the hours until he can see her tonight without the pretense of professional distance, without the careful walls they maintain when other people are around.
He texts her during lunch break: *Miss you.*
*You saw me an hour ago,* Rory responds, but he can practically hear the smile in her message.
*Doesn’t count when I have to pretend you’re just another journalist,* Henrik sends back. *Tonight? My place? I’ll make that pasta you like.*
*The one with too much garlic?* Rory texts.
*The one with the perfect amount of garlic that you claim is too much because you’re wrong about garlic,* Henrik corrects.
*7 PM,* Rory confirms. *And bring evidence that there’s a perfect amount of garlic because I maintain you’re trying to kill vampires.*
*Maybe I am,* Henrik sends. *Maybe you’re secretly a vampire and I’m testing you.*
*You’ve seen me in sunlight,* Rory points out.
*Inconclusive,* Henrik argues. *Vampires could have evolved. It’s 2024. They’re probably sun-resistant now.*
*You’re ridiculous,* Rory sends, and then: *I like you anyway.*
Henrik stares at those four words—I like you anyway—and feels his chest warm with the knowledge that like is Rory’s current substitute for love, that she’s inching closer to being able to say the actual words, that eventually she’ll trust him enough to admit what he already knows she feels.
He can wait.
He’s patient when it matters.
And Rory Castillo matters more than anything else in his life right now except possibly hockey, and even that’s becoming negotiable when he’s prioritizing dinner with her over extra practice time.
That night she shows up at his apartment with wine and the stressed expression she gets when she’s written three articles in one day and dealt with editors who want rewrites, and Henrik pulls her inside and kisses her hello in the way that’s become routine—deep and thorough and completely focused on making her forget about work for a few hours.
“Bad day?” Henrik asks when they finally separate, and Rory nods while toeing off her shoes and collapsing onto his couch with the boneless exhaustion of someone who’s been performing professionalism for eight straight hours.
“My editor wants me to write a feature piece about what makes the Frost successful this season,” Rory says, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the cushions. “Which means I need to interview half the team about team dynamics and chemistry, including you, and I have to pretend that I don’t know you can’t function before coffee in the morning or that you stress-bake Swedish cardamom buns when you’re anxious about games.”
“You could include those details,” Henrik suggests, sitting next to her and pulling her feet into his lap to massage the tension from spending all day in heels. “Make the article more humanizing. Show that players are actual people with quirks.”
“Can’t,” Rory says, but she’s sighing contentedly at the foot massage. “Using personal details I only know because we’re dating would make it obvious we’re involved. I have to stick to information I could access as press.”
“That seems like it makes your job harder,” Henrik observes.
“Everything about dating you makes my job harder,” Rory says, but there’s affection in it instead of resentment. “Worth it though. Mostly. When you make pasta with vampire-killing amounts of garlic.”
Henrik laughs and continues the massage while Rory decompresses, and later they eat dinner while discussing her feature article and which players she should interview for diverse perspectives, and Henrik gives her genuine insight about team dynamics that she could theoretically get from any player but is getting from him because they trust each other enough to blur professional lines slightly when it results in better journalism.
After dinner they migrate to the bedroom with intention that’s become familiar—Rory initiating because she needs the physical release after a stressful day, Henrik responding with the careful attention he always gives to making sure she feels good, both of them falling into the rhythm of sex that’s become less about urgency and more about connection, about being vulnerable with someone who sees all of you and stays anyway.
“I love you,” Henrik says afterward when they’re lying tangled together in the dark, and he doesn’t expect her to say it back—has stopped expecting that particular phrase even though he knows she feels it—but tonight Rory surprises him by whispering against his shoulder, “I’m getting there. Close. Almost brave enough.”
“That’s enough,” Henrik says, pulling her closer. “For now. I can wait until you’re ready.”
“What if I’m never ready?” Rory asks quietly. “What if I’m too damaged from Carlos to ever fully trust that you won’t leave or cheat or prioritize your career over us?”
“Then I prove it through actions instead of words,” Henrik says simply. “Every day. Until you believe me. However long that takes.”
“That’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself,” Rory points out. “Constantly proving you’re trustworthy. What if you make a mistake? What if you fuck up in some normal relationship way and I can’t tell the difference between human error and Carlos-level betrayal?”
“Then we communicate,” Henrik says. “You tell me when I mess up, I apologize and fix it, and we work through it like adults instead of letting fear destroy something good.”
Rory is quiet for a long time, and Henrik thinks she might have fallen asleep, but then she says very quietly, “My therapist says I’m self-sabotaging. Looking for reasons to push you away before you can hurt me. Creating tests you don’t know you’re taking so I can be right about athletes being untrustworthy.”
“Are you?” Henrik asks carefully.
“Probably,” Rory admits. “I’m watching for red flags that might not exist. Questioning your motives when you’re being nice. Waiting for the other shoe to drop because good things don’t usually last for me.”
“What would convince you that I’m serious?” Henrik asks. “What would it take for you to actually trust this?”
“Time,” Rory says after considering. “Consistency. You doing what you say you’ll do over and over until the pattern is undeniable. Maybe meeting your family eventually so I can see if you’re the same person with them that you are with me. Definitely continuing to prioritize my career even when it’s inconvenient for us.”
“I can do all of that,” Henrik says. “Time, consistency, family, supporting your career. Consider it done.”
“Just like that?” Rory sounds skeptical.
“Just like that,” Henrik confirms. “Because I love you. And I’m not going anywhere. And eventually you’re going to believe that.”
Rory kisses him instead of responding, and they make love again—slower this time, more tender, with the kind of eye contact that makes vulnerability feel less terrifying—and when Henrik falls asleep with Rory curved against his side, her breathing evening out into the deep rhythm of sleep, he thinks that this is it, this is what he wants for the rest of his life, this woman in his bed and in his future and eventually—when she’s ready—in his permanent present instead of this suspended secret relationship they’re currently navigating.
He’s already gone.
Completely in love.
Just waiting for her to catch up.
🔥
END CHAPTER 11
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