Updated Mar 22, 2026 • ~12 min read
Chapter 20: His Therapy Journey
POV: Carter Vaughn
Dr. Chen refers Carter to Dr. Margaret Owens two weeks after his commitment to deep work—explains that while Dr. Chen specializes in sports psychology and performance anxiety, Dr. Owens focuses specifically on relationship trauma and commitment issues stemming from parental divorce, that if Carter’s serious about transforming he needs someone whose expertise aligns precisely with his wounds—and Carter takes the referral because he’s finally, actually serious about doing whatever it takes to heal.
Dr. Owens’s office is different from Dr. Chen’s clinical sports psychology space—warmer somehow, with soft lighting and comfortable chairs that feel more like a living room than a medical office—and the woman herself is in her fifties, no-nonsense in a way that immediately puts Carter both at ease and on edge, like she’s someone who won’t let him bullshit his way through sessions.
“Why are you here?” Dr. Owens asks during their first session, settling into her chair across from Carter with a notepad and an expression that suggests she’s heard every excuse and deflection imaginable.
“I’m in love with someone.” Carter forces himself to be honest from the start, to not hide behind excuses or minimization. “I fucked it up. I need to fix myself.”
“Fix yourself how?” Dr. Owens’s voice is gentle but probing, clearly wanting specifics rather than generalities.
“I’m scared of commitment. Terrified of relationships. My parents had a disaster marriage that ended in a worse divorce and it fucked me up in ways I’m just starting to understand.” Carter takes a breath. “I hurt someone I love because I couldn’t get past that fear. And I want to become someone who can.”
“Okay.” Dr. Owens makes a note. “That’s a good start. But I want to be clear: this work—real trauma work—is hard. Painful. Takes months or longer. There’s no quick fix, no shortcut. If you’re only here to win back this woman you love, you’re going to burn out before we make real progress.”
“I’m here for me,” Carter says, and means it more than he’s meant anything in his therapy journey so far. “If Priya takes me back, that’s—that would be everything. But even if she doesn’t, I need to stop letting my parents’ marriage control my life. Need to break these patterns before they destroy every relationship I try to have.”
“Good.” Dr. Owens nods approval. “Then let’s begin.”
The weeks that follow are brutal in ways Carter didn’t anticipate—session after session unpacking his parents’ divorce, examining how their toxic patterns imprinted on his understanding of love, confronting memories he’s spent years avoiding, and slowly, painfully building new frameworks for what healthy relationships actually look like.
“Tell me about your father,” Dr. Owens says during week two, and Carter has to sit with the question because talking about his dad means confronting anger and disappointment and the specific way his father’s infidelity taught Carter that commitment is just another word for eventual betrayal.
“He cheated,” Carter says quietly. “Multiple times. And my mom stayed because she thought she could fix him, thought her love would be enough to make him faithful. It wasn’t. And watching her destroy herself trying to save something that was already dead—that taught me that love is just prolonged suffering.”
“And your mother?” Dr. Owens asks gently. “What did her behavior teach you?”
“That loving someone means losing yourself. Becoming smaller to make space for their dysfunction. Sacrificing your dignity for the illusion of commitment.” Carter’s throat is tight with emotions he’s been suppressing for years. “She made herself miserable trying to fix something that couldn’t be fixed. And I swore I’d never do that. Never let someone matter enough to destroy me the way my dad destroyed her.”
“So you kept people at distance,” Dr. Owens observes. “Maintained control by refusing to commit. Made sure no one could hurt you the way your father hurt your mother.”
“Yeah.” Carter wipes at his eyes, not quite crying but close. “Except I ended up hurting someone anyway. Hurt Priya by refusing to let her close. By choosing safety over love. By being so scared of becoming my parents that I couldn’t see I was already repeating their patterns in different ways.”
The realization lands heavy—that avoiding his parents’ mistakes doesn’t mean Carter escaped their influence, just that he expressed their dysfunction differently, that fear of commitment is its own form of relationship toxicity, that protecting himself from potential pain meant inflicting actual pain on someone he loves.
“You’re not your father,” Dr. Owens says firmly, and the statement hits Carter like revelation even though it should be obvious. “You didn’t cheat. Didn’t betray. Didn’t use someone and discard them. Your fear of commitment is not the same as your father’s inability to be faithful.”
“But I hurt her—”
“You did,” Dr. Owens agrees. “But through fear, not malice. Through self-protection, not cruelty. And fear can be healed in ways that fundamental character flaws can’t. You can learn to not be scared. Your father would have had to become a different person entirely.”
The distinction matters more than Carter expected—understanding that his issues are learnable, healable, changeable rather than fundamental personality defects, that he’s not doomed to repeat his father’s mistakes because his mistakes come from different sources.
“And Priya’s not your mother,” Dr. Owens continues. “She’s not someone who’ll destroy herself trying to fix you. She’s someone who set boundaries. Who walked away when you couldn’t give her what she needed. Who chose herself over staying in something unhealthy. That’s the opposite of your mother’s pattern.”
“Which means our relationship would be different,” Carter says slowly, understanding crystallizing. “Wouldn’t be doomed the way theirs was. Would be ours—with our patterns, our dynamics, our choices—not a repetition of their disaster.”
“Exactly.” Dr. Owens smiles for the first time since they started working together. “Your parents’ marriage failed because of who they were and the choices they made. Any relationship you have will succeed or fail based on who you are and the choices you make. Their history doesn’t determine your future unless you let it.”
The sessions continue—week after week of unpacking trauma, challenging beliefs, building new understanding of what healthy love actually looks like—and Carter feels himself changing in ways that go deeper than just wanting Priya back, deeper than performing growth to win someone over, deeper than anything he’s experienced before.
He learns that commitment isn’t a trap but a choice you make daily. That healthy relationships include conflict but not toxicity. That his father’s infidelity says nothing about Carter’s capacity for faithfulness. That his mother’s co-dependency doesn’t mean loving someone requires losing yourself.
He learns to separate his parents’ dysfunction from his own potential. To recognize their patterns without assuming he’ll repeat them. To understand that being scared is normal but letting fear control him is a choice.
He learns that he’s not broken, just wounded. Not doomed, just carrying trauma that needs healing. Not incapable of love, just terrified of it in ways that therapy can address.
The work is hard—harder than anything Carter’s done on the ice, harder than earning his captaincy, harder than any physical challenge he’s faced—but also transformative in ways he didn’t know were possible.
By week eight, Carter can talk about his parents’ divorce without his throat closing up with panic.
By week twelve, he can imagine committing to someone without immediately catastrophizing all the ways it could fail.
By week sixteen, he actually believes he’s not his father, that Priya’s not his mother, that their relationship would be theirs and not a doomed repetition of patterns he’s been running from for years.
The season ends somewhere in the middle of his therapy journey—Blades make the playoffs but get knocked out in the second round, and suddenly it’s off-season and Carter has nothing to focus on except hockey training and the deep work of becoming someone different—and time passes in a blur of sessions and homework and incremental growth that adds up to transformation.
Dr. Owens assigns reading: books on attachment theory, healthy relationship dynamics, breaking generational patterns. Carter reads them all, takes notes, discusses them in sessions with the kind of engagement he used to reserve for game footage analysis.
She assigns practical work: identifying his triggers, developing coping strategies, practicing vulnerability in low-stakes relationships with friends and teammates. Carter does it all, commits fully, treats therapy like the full-time job it needs to be to create genuine change.
Months pass—March becomes April becomes May, hockey season transitions to off-season, Boston’s winter cold gives way to spring warmth—and Carter continues showing up to Dr. Owens’s office twice a week, continues doing the hard work of transformation, continues becoming someone different.
The team notices—Jamie comments that Carter seems lighter somehow, more present, less haunted by something he won’t talk about. Tyler mentions Carter’s been easier to be around, less prone to the dark moods that used to overtake him randomly.
Carter doesn’t tell them about therapy, about Priya, about the deep work he’s doing to heal wounds most people don’t even know he carries—just focuses on the process, on becoming better, on transforming from someone scared of commitment to someone capable of it.
He thinks about Priya constantly—wonders if she’s moved on, if she’s dating Naveen or someone else, if she ever thinks about Carter or if he’s become just another mistake she’s moved past—but resists the urge to check, to reach out, to do anything except focus on his own healing.
Dr. Owens is firm about this: “You can’t do this work for her. Can’t heal yourself to win her back. Have to heal for you, become someone who can handle commitment regardless of whether she gives you another chance. Otherwise the motivation won’t sustain through the hard parts.”
So Carter heals for himself.
Becomes someone who can talk about his parents’ divorce without panic.
Someone who can imagine commitment without catastrophizing.
Someone who understands that fear is normal but letting it control him is optional.
Someone different.
Better.
Capable of the kind of love Priya deserves, regardless of whether she’s still available to receive it.
By the time summer arrives—humid June days when training camp feels impossibly far away and Carter’s been doing deep therapy work for four months—he’s transformed in ways he couldn’t have imagined when he started.
“How do you feel?” Dr. Owens asks during a session in early July, and Carter takes time to actually assess instead of giving the automatic answer.
“Different,” he says honestly. “Lighter. Like I’ve been carrying weight I didn’t know was there and finally put it down. Still scared sometimes—probably always will be—but the fear doesn’t control me anymore.”
“And if I asked you to commit to someone right now?” Dr. Owens challenges. “To imagine a real relationship with all the vulnerability and risk that requires?”
Carter sits with the question—really sits with it, lets himself imagine being Priya’s boyfriend, her partner, someone who chooses her daily despite fear—and finds that instead of panic, he feels… ready.
“I could do it,” Carter says, surprised by his own certainty. “Would still be scared. Would still have moments where the old patterns try to resurface. But I could do it. Could commit. Could handle the fear instead of letting it make my decisions.”
“Then you’ve done the work,” Dr. Owens says with satisfaction. “Real, genuine transformation. You’re not the same man who walked in here four months ago.”
Carter knows she’s right—he’s fundamentally different now, has broken patterns that controlled him for years, has healed wounds he didn’t fully understand were influencing his choices—but knowing he’s changed and knowing if Priya will care are different questions.
“What if I’m ready but she’s moved on?” Carter asks, voicing the fear that’s been building as his healing progresses. “What if I’ve done all this work and there’s no one to share it with?”
“Then you’ll be a better person who can have healthier relationships with someone else,” Dr. Owens says practically. “The work wasn’t wasted just because it doesn’t result in winning back one specific woman. You’ll carry these changes forward into whatever comes next.”
It’s logical. Rational. The right answer.
But it doesn’t stop Carter from hoping that what comes next includes Priya, that his transformation wasn’t too late, that she’s been waiting or at least is still available for him to try one more time.
“New season starts soon,” Carter says, changing the subject. “August training camp. I’ll see her again.”
“And?” Dr. Owens prompts.
“And I don’t know what to do.” Carter admits the uncertainty. “Don’t know if I should approach her, give her space, try to show her I’ve changed. Don’t know if four months of healing is enough or if she needs more proof or if she’s already decided I’m not worth another chance.”
“What do you want to do?” Dr. Owens asks.
“Show her,” Carter says immediately. “Not tell her I’ve changed, but show her through action. Demonstrate that I’m different. Give her evidence instead of promises.”
“How?”
“I don’t know yet.” Carter’s honest about that at least. “But I have six weeks until training camp. Six weeks to figure out how to prove I’m not the same guy who hurt her. Six weeks to become certain enough in my transformation that she can see it without me having to perform it.”
Dr. Owens nods slowly. “We’ll work on that. Developing a plan that respects her boundaries while demonstrating genuine change. But Carter? Don’t pin all your hopes on winning her back. You’ve done beautiful work here. Don’t let its value depend on one woman’s response.”
Carter knows she’s right.
But he also knows that all the growth in the world won’t feel complete without Priya seeing it, without having the chance to prove he’s become someone worthy of her love, without knowing if transformation was enough to earn a second chance.
Time has passed. He’s changed. She’s unaware.
And soon—very soon—Carter will find out if healing himself was enough to heal what he broke between them.
Or if some damage is permanent regardless of personal growth.
Reader Reactions