Updated Mar 22, 2026 • ~9 min read
Chapter 14: Old Ghosts
POV: Rory
Rory – HER WALLS
Rory is at her desk editing an article about the Frost’s defensive strategies when her phone rings with a number she hasn’t seen in two years, and her stomach drops even before she answers because there’s only one person who would be calling from that LA area code, only one person she specifically blocked on all her contacts who would have found a way to get a new number just to reach her.
“Hello?” Rory says, even though she knows exactly who’s calling, even though she should probably just hang up and block this number too.
“Rory,” Carlos says, and his voice is exactly as she remembers—smooth and confident in the way that used to make her feel safe but now just makes her angry. “Don’t hang up. Please. I just want to talk.”
“We have nothing to talk about,” Rory says flatly, glancing around the newsroom to make sure no one’s close enough to overhear this conversation. “We finalized the divorce two years ago. You signed the papers. We’re done.”
“I made a mistake,” Carlos says, and he sounds genuinely regretful which is almost worse than if he sounded indifferent. “Letting you go. Cheating. All of it. I’ve been thinking about you. Missing you. I want to try again. See if we can fix what I broke.”
“Absolutely not,” Rory says, and her hands are shaking with a combination of anger and old hurt that she thought she’d processed in therapy but apparently is still right beneath the surface. “You don’t get to decide two years later that you miss me and want me back. You made your choice when you slept with half of Chicago. Now live with it.”
“I was young and stupid,” Carlos argues. “I didn’t appreciate what I had. But I’ve grown up. Changed. I’m in therapy now. Working on my issues with commitment and fidelity. I’m a different person than I was when we were married.”
“Good for you,” Rory says. “Be different with someone else. I’m not interested in being your redemption arc.”
“Is there someone else?” Carlos asks, and there’s something sharp in the question. “Is that why you’re being so resistant? You’ve moved on?”
Rory thinks about Henrik—about the way he holds her when she’s anxious, about his patience with her trust issues, about how he’s nothing like the man currently trying to convince her to give him a second chance—and feels protective fury rise in her chest at the idea of Carlos knowing about that relationship.
“My personal life is none of your business,” Rory says. “We’re done having this conversation. Don’t call me again.”
She hangs up before Carlos can respond, and she’s shaking so hard that she has to put her phone down and take several deep breaths before anyone in the newsroom notices she’s having what might technically qualify as a panic attack at her desk.
Her phone buzzes with a text from Carlos: *I’m not giving up. I know I hurt you but I still love you. I’ll prove I’ve changed.*
Rory blocks the new number and tries to go back to editing her article, but her concentration is shot and all she can think about is Carlos’s voice saying he wants to try again, wants her back, has changed, and the fact that she used to believe his promises before discovering they meant nothing.
She texts Henrik: *Can I come over tonight? Need to see you. Something happened.*
His response comes immediately: *Of course. I’m home by 6. Come whenever you want.*
Rory makes it through the rest of her workday on autopilot, files her article without really remembering what she wrote, and drives to Henrik’s apartment with Carlos’s words playing on repeat in her head—*I still love you, I’ll prove I’ve changed*—and by the time Henrik opens his door looking concerned, Rory is already halfway to a complete emotional breakdown.
“What happened?” Henrik asks, pulling her inside immediately. “You look—Rory, what’s wrong?”
“Carlos called,” Rory says, and she can hear her voice shaking. “Said he made a mistake letting me go. That he wants to try again. That he’s changed and wants me back.”
Henrik’s expression goes carefully neutral in a way that tells Rory he’s trying to control his reaction. “What did you say?”
“I told him to fuck off,” Rory confirms. “Hung up and blocked his number. But Henrik, hearing his voice again—it triggered everything. All the fear about athletes being untrustworthy. All the memories of finding out he’d been cheating our entire marriage. All the reasons I swore I’d never date another professional athlete.”
“I’m not him,” Henrik says quietly.
“I know,” Rory says, but there are tears streaming down her face now. “Rationally I know you’re different. You’ve proven you’re different. But emotionally I’m spiraling. Questioning whether I’m just repeating the same pattern with different person. Wondering if you’re going to eventually hurt me the same way he did.”
“I won’t,” Henrik promises, moving closer but not touching yet like he’s not sure contact is welcome right now. “Rory, I swear to you—I’m not going to cheat. I’m not going to lie. I’m not going to betray your trust. Whatever Carlos did to you, I won’t do that.”
“Everyone says that,” Rory argues, backing away because she needs space to breathe, space to think. “He said it too. In our wedding vows. Promised to be faithful. And then spent years sleeping with other women while I believed he was actually at late practices and team events.”
“Then I’ll prove it differently,” Henrik says. “Not through words but through actions. Consistently. For however long it takes.”
“I don’t know if that’s enough,” Rory admits, and she hates how broken she sounds. “I don’t know if anything is enough when I’m this damaged.”
“You’re not damaged,” Henrik says firmly. “You’re hurt. There’s a difference. And hurt can heal if you let it.”
“What if I can’t let it?” Rory asks. “What if Carlos calling proved that I’m not actually over the trauma? What if I push you away because I’m too scared to risk getting hurt again?”
Henrik is quiet for a long moment, and when he speaks his voice is gentle but direct: “Are you pushing me away right now? Is that what this is?”
“I don’t know,” Rory admits honestly. “I’m scared. And when I’m scared I want to run. Want to end things before you can end them first. Want to be alone where it’s safe instead of vulnerable with someone who could destroy me.”
“But you came here,” Henrik points out. “Instead of running, you came to me. That matters.”
He’s right—she did come to him, did choose to process this crisis with Henrik instead of alone, which suggests that maybe she trusts him more than she’s willing to admit even to herself.
“I need you to promise me something,” Rory says, moving closer to Henrik now, needing the physical contact even while her brain is screaming about vulnerability. “Promise you’ll tell me if you want out. If this gets too complicated or I’m too much work or you meet someone easier who doesn’t come with trust issues and a cheating ex. Just tell me instead of staying out of obligation.”
“I promise,” Henrik says, pulling her into his arms finally. “But Rory, I’m not looking for easier. I’m looking for you. Complicated and scared and brilliant exactly as you are.”
They stand like that for a long time—Rory crying against Henrik’s shoulder while he holds her steady and makes promises she desperately wants to believe—and eventually the tears stop and all that’s left is exhaustion and the bone-deep need to feel close to someone, to be reminded that intimacy doesn’t always end in betrayal.
“I need you,” Rory says against Henrik’s neck. “Right now. Please.”
They make love on Henrik’s couch—urgent and almost angry in Rory’s desperation to replace old memories with new ones, to let Henrik’s hands erase the ghost of Carlos’s touch, to prove to herself that not every athlete will hurt her—and Henrik responds with careful attention to what she needs, reading her mood and matching it without questions or judgment.
After, they lie tangled together with their breathing gradually slowing, and Henrik says quietly, “Was that okay? You seemed like you needed—I wanted to make sure I gave you what you needed.”
“It was perfect,” Rory confirms. “You’re perfect. And I hate that I keep waiting for you to fuck it up.”
“You’re allowed to be scared,” Henrik says. “Just don’t let the fear make decisions for you. Stay with me even when it’s scary. Trust that I’m actually different.”
“I’m trying,” Rory whispers. “I promise I’m trying.”
They spend the rest of the night talking about Carlos—about what actually happened in the marriage, about the specific ways he betrayed her trust, about why his phone call triggered such intense reaction—and Henrik listens without trying to fix anything, just being present while Rory processes trauma she thought she’d dealt with.
“Thank you for not being him,” Rory says much later when they’re in Henrik’s bed trying to sleep. “For being patient with my damage. For staying even when I’m difficult.”
“You’re not difficult,” Henrik says. “You’re just healing. And I’m happy to be part of that process.”
Rory falls asleep thinking that maybe Henrik is right—maybe she can heal, can learn to trust again, can build something healthy with someone who’s nothing like the man who destroyed her.
Maybe.
If she’s brave enough to let herself try.
🔥
END CHAPTER 14
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