Updated Mar 22, 2026 • ~7 min read
Chapter 7: The Jealousy Problem
POV: Rory
Rory – THE JEALOUSY
Rory is conducting an interview with the Frost’s newest rookie—Tyler Morrison, twenty-two years old, fresh from college hockey and so enthusiastic about his first NHL season that he answers every question like he’s auditioning for a commercial—when she notices Henrik watching from across the locker room with an expression that looks distinctly like he’s trying not to interrupt, and she forces herself to focus on Tyler’s explanation of adjusting to professional-level play instead of wondering why Henrik is staring at her with intensity that feels possessive in ways that absolutely should not make her stomach flip the way it currently is.
“So your transition from college to pro has been smooth?” Rory asks, taking notes while Tyler nods enthusiastically, his hair still wet from the post-practice shower and his smile genuine in the way only rookies who haven’t been beaten down by media training can manage.
“Mostly smooth,” Tyler confirms. “The guys have been great about helping me adjust. Henrik especially—he’s been mentoring me on faceoff techniques. You should interview him about his approach to draws. He’s got this whole philosophy about reading the opponent’s grip that’s fascinating.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Rory says, even though she’s already interviewed Henrik approximately six times this week and any more requests might start looking suspicious to the other journalists who cover the team. “Thanks for your time, Tyler.”
“Actually,” Tyler says, and there’s something in his tone that makes Rory’s journalist instincts prickle with awareness that this conversation is shifting from professional to personal, “would you maybe want to grab coffee sometime? Not for an interview. Just… to talk. You’re new to covering the team and I’m new to the team, and I thought maybe we could commiserate about being the rookies in our respective fields.”
It’s a reasonable suggestion delivered with genuine friendliness instead of the aggressive flirting Rory usually gets from professional athletes, and under normal circumstances she might actually say yes because Tyler seems nice and uncomplicated and having a source among the rookies could be professionally valuable, but before she can formulate a response that’s polite but maintains appropriate boundaries, Henrik appears next to them with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and a tone that’s carefully casual in a way that immediately makes Rory suspicious.
“She’s busy,” Henrik says, and he’s technically addressing Tyler but his eyes are on Rory with something that looks distinctly like jealousy beneath the friendly exterior. “Rory’s got a pretty full schedule covering the team. Probably doesn’t have time for social coffees with players.”
“I can manage my own schedule,” Rory says coolly, because she doesn’t appreciate being spoken for even if Henrik’s trying to protect whatever fragile thing they’re building between them, even if she wasn’t actually planning to accept Tyler’s invitation anyway. “But thank you for the offer, Tyler. I’ll think about it.”
Tyler glances between them with an expression that suggests he’s picking up on subtext he doesn’t fully understand, then nods and retreats toward his locker with a mumbled excuse about needing to check his equipment, leaving Rory alone with Henrik and the uncomfortable awareness that they’re standing too close for professional colleagues and she’s currently fighting the urge to either kiss him or kill him for interrupting her interview.
“What was that?” Rory asks quietly, keeping her voice low enough that the other players and journalists scattered around the room can’t overhear. “You can’t just tell people I’m busy when they ask me out. That’s not your call to make.”
“He was asking you out?” Henrik says, and there’s something almost wounded in the question like he hadn’t considered that possibility. “I thought he was just being friendly.”
“He was being friendly,” Rory confirms. “And even if he was asking me out, that’s my business to handle. We agreed to keep things professional at work. That includes you not cockblocking me in front of rookies.”
“Cockblocking,” Henrik repeats, and despite the tension there’s amusement creeping into his voice. “Is that the technical journalism term?”
“That’s the technical term for what you just did,” Rory says, but she’s fighting a smile now because he looks genuinely apologetic instead of defensive. “You can’t do that again. If we’re actually going to try dating while maintaining professional boundaries, you need to trust that I can handle other people’s interest without your intervention.”
“You’re right,” Henrik admits. “I’m sorry. I saw him looking at you like he was interested and I just… reacted. Which was stupid and possessive and completely unprofessional.”
“It was,” Rory agrees, but her annoyance is fading because there’s something almost endearing about Henrik being jealous over Tyler’s completely innocent coffee invitation, something that makes her feel wanted in ways that are both flattering and concerning given that they haven’t even had their first official date yet. “For the record, I wasn’t going to say yes. He’s a nice kid but I’m not interested in coffee with rookies. I’m barely interested in coffee with you and we’ve already established there’s actual chemistry there.”
“Barely interested?” Henrik challenges, and now he’s definitely smiling. “Is that why you agreed to dinner tomorrow? Because you’re barely interested?”
“I’m reconsidering,” Rory says, but she’s smiling too, and when Tyler glances over at them from across the room she realizes they’re standing close enough and looking at each other intimately enough that anyone paying attention would definitely clock this as more than professional interaction. “We should stop this. People are going to notice.”
“Right,” Henrik says, but he doesn’t immediately step back, doesn’t stop looking at her with those ice-blue eyes that make her forget why maintaining distance is important. “Professional boundaries. I’ll work on that.”
“You do that,” Rory says, and forces herself to move away before she does something stupid like kiss him in front of the entire Chicago Frost roster and half the city’s sports media.
She finishes her interviews for the day and escapes back to the Tribune offices where she spends two hours writing an article about the team’s defensive strategies while trying not to think about the way Henrik looked when he realized Tyler might have been asking her out, trying not to feel pleased about his jealousy, definitely not imagining what tomorrow night’s dinner might lead to if they can successfully navigate a date without the complication of pregnancy scares or professional conflicts.
Her phone buzzes with a text from Henrik: *I’m sorry about earlier. Won’t happen again. I trust you to handle your own professional relationships.*
*Thank you,* Rory sends back, and then because she’s feeling generous: *For the record, watching you get jealous over a rookie was kind of hot. Just don’t make it a habit.*
*Noted,* Henrik responds. *Tomorrow still happening?*
*Yes,* Rory confirms. *Unless you plan to spend the entire dinner scowling at waiters who look at me.*
*Can’t make promises,* Henrik sends, and she can practically hear the smile in his message. *You’re very lookable-at.*
*That’s not a word,* Rory texts back.
*It is now. I’m Swedish. I’m allowed to invent English words.*
Rory laughs at her desk loud enough that her colleague Dave gives her a curious look from across the newsroom, and she quickly schools her expression into professional neutrality while texting Henrik back: *Goodnight, you jealous Swedish disaster.*
*Goodnight, journalist who drives me crazy in the best ways,* Henrik responds, and Rory goes to bed that night thinking that maybe—just maybe—dating Henrik won’t be the mistake she’s been telling herself it is.
Maybe some athletes actually mean it when they say they care.
Maybe some jealousy is healthy instead of toxic.
Maybe she’s allowed to take a risk on someone who looks at her like she’s worth fighting for.
Tomorrow’s date will either confirm that hope or destroy it.
Either way, at least she’ll know.
🔥
END CHAPTER 7
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