Pucking Strong: An MM Workplace Hockey Romance (Jacksonville Rays Book 4)

Oh my god, I’ve officially gone crazy. That’s what you call it when you agree to fake marry your colleague just so he can win temporary custody of his injured niece and drag her from her home country, thereby forcing her to experience the horror that is the rectangle pizza in an American public school cafeteria … right? We call that crazy?

Okay, Karolina is not eating that pizza. I know I’m not technically her fake gay uncle yet, but my first order of business will be researching the top nonreligious private schools in Jacksonville. Our girl is getting the best education that money can buy. I’m sure the WAGs have a list. And Morbror Henrik can definitely afford it.

And fuck me. Henrik? “Start calling me Henrik”? That happened, right? I thought I was going to pass out right there on the damn floor of the cafeteria. Now I’m sitting on a stiff bench in the lobby of an administrative building in downtown Stockholm, staring at the back of Henrik’s head while he applies for our marriage license.

Because we’re getting married.

Me and Henrik.

Teddy O’Connor, hopelessly romantic double Pisces with boundary issues and a near-pathological need to please. And Henrik Karlsson, strong and silent Swedish hockey star who never says three words if none will do.

We’re getting married.

Today.

Now.

Oh, I am so fucking fucked! And not in the fun way. What am I doing? I have to stop this. It’s not fair to him. And it’s really not fair to me. In fact, I think the scientific term for it is torture. To be married to someone and not be able to be with them? Touch them, hold them, love them out loud? I won’t be able to take it. I’ll crack. I’ll fucking shatter. I’ll say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing and ruin Henrik’s chance at securing full custody of his niece.

At this last thought, I swallow a groan, shifting in my seat.

God, I’m such a self-centered ass. This isn’t about me. It’s not even about Henrik. This is about that sad little girl, lying in a hospital, grieving her mom. Henrik asked me why I’m doing this, and my answer is simple: Karolina. I saw her face the moment he first entered that hospital room. I saw the relief there, the love, the marrow-deep trust and affection. I’ve watched her with him all week. Karolina loves her uncle. To lose him now would be devastating. At her young age, she’d think he didn’t want her. She’d blame herself. You don’t recover from that kind of soul-piercing abandonment.

Trust me, I know.

My dad was in the navy, always in and out of our lives on deployments. One time he went out and just never came back. Like most kids, I blamed myself at first, but some people just aren’t meant for staying. Mom did the most to hold it all together. My sisters helped. A lot of the burden got placed on Shae as the oldest, and then I got to feel guilty about that. While her friends went out to the mall and the movies, she drove me to track practices and swim meets.

I know what leaving looks like, and I know what it means to the ones left behind. So, I’m here, ready to put my own happiness on the line to help keep a family together.noveldrama

Next to me on the bench, Henrik’s stony gargoyle of a lawyer furiously taps on the keys of her laptop, updating the case file. “You said you could get me the names and contact information for the team support staff. Including familial support?”

I jolt, tearing my eyes away from the back of Henrik’s head. “Yeah.” I pull out my phone and shoot off a quick text to Doctor Price. Her response is almost instant. My phone pings as she sends me copies of the team contact list, including medical staff, athletic trainers, physical therapists, and more. Not that any of them would treat Karolina in a professional capacity, but I know any one of them would drop everything to come over and help if Henrik needed it.

Rachel also sends me the WAG contact list. It has the names and numbers of every partner associated with the players. Kids’ names and ages are listed too, convenient for setting up playdates. The last thing she sends is a WAG-certified babysitter list. On it are the names and numbers of every person in the Jacksonville area deemed reliable enough to provide childcare. I air-drop them all to Elin as my phone pings with another text.

Smiling, I quickly text back. Now that the ice has thawed, Karro talks to me in her accented English, with Henrik filling in the gaps. I’ve learned a lot over the last couple days.

A few moments pass before she responds.

I glance over to where he stands with his back still turned. We haven’t told anyone back home what we’re doing yet. We’re not going to implode our lives until we know temporary custody of Karolina is secured. Elin assured us that the super invasive family history portion of the adoption process will come later.

My phone pings with her response as Karlsson turns and says, “I need your passport.”

Fumbling, I put my pinging phone back into my pocket as I try to extract my passport at the same time. “Sure. Here it is. Need me to fill out my own form? I can help.”

He raises a brow. “Do you read Swedish?”

“Shoot, not on Tuesdays,” I reply lamely.

He takes my passport and turns his attention back to the electronic form. “Nearly finished,” he mutters with his back to me.

I feel completely useless. He’s working, Elin is working, and I’m just standing here.

Wait …

It hits me all over again that this is technically my wedding day. What am I even wearing? I glance down. Oh, fuck me. Seriously? I’m wearing sneakers, athletic pants, and a white Nike Swoosh T-shirt. Sighing with frustration, I search my pocket for a band to pull back my locs.

I don’t want to come across as one of those stereotypical gays who has already planned his dream wedding down to the table favors and DJ set list … but if the shoe fits, right? And this is not how I imagined my big day. First, we wouldn’t be getting married at city hall. We’d get married on the edge of a forest at twilight. Second, I wouldn’t be wearing scuffed sneakers and a branded T-shirt. I have a whole Pinterest board saved of wedding looks. And I’ll tell you right now, not one Pin features polyester pants with zippers at the ankles.

And my family would be here with me to celebrate. That they’re not here hurts more than I can say. Keeping this from them has been the hardest part. I want them to know … but I’m also afraid of what they’ll say. I’m afraid they’ll talk me out of it. And my mind is made up. This is the right thing to do.

Henrik exchanges a few words with the man behind the desk as he passes the tablet over to him. Then he half turns, holding out my passport. “Finished.”

“Cool.” I slip it back in my pocket. “So, are we doing it right here then?” I glance around the sterile atrium.

“They have a chapel down the hall. We’ll do it in there once they call our names.”

Hearing the word chapel has my blood freezing to ice. Oh shit. I’m gonna have to lie in front of Jesus? I stuff my hands in my pockets. “Chapel, huh? Are you religious then?”

He just shrugs. “Not particularly. My family has always celebrated Christmas and Easter.”

“Yeah, same.”

“But we also observe Midsummer with bonfires, schnapps, and a naked swim in the lake at midnight,” he adds.

Aaaaand now I’m picturing him naked.

Just fucking perfect.

He must sense the anxiety in my tone. “Are you religious? I believe we can request a prayer or blessing.” He starts to turn away, but I grab his arm.

“No, it’s fine. I mean, if this was a real wedding, maybe I’d want more.”

Yeah, more. That about sums up what I’d want if this was real.

But it’s not.

“Really, it’s fine, Henrik.” Saying his name is the one indulgence I’m allowing myself. “Let’s just get this over with. It’s just on paper anyway, right?”

He nods and I drop my hand away. “They should call us back soon. Excuse me.” Stepping around me, he heads for the restroom.

The moment he’s gone, Elin slaps her laptop shut and stands. “I have to get back to the office. Tell Henrik I’ll need a copy of the signed marriage certificate as soon as possible.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve incorporated all your information into the application.”

“Cool.”

At her insistence, we’ve included my résumé and copies of my degrees and licenses. She wants my background of working with kids in rehab settings to strengthen Henrik’s case.

Slipping the strap of her leather bag onto her shoulder, she pauses to look at me, her pale blue eyes searching my face. I blink, trying to hold still. What is she looking for? What is she seeing? I straighten my shoulders, waiting. She takes a step closer and grabs my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s a noble thing you’re doing, Teddy. Just be sure you’re doing it for the right reasons.”

“Right reasons?”

I get the feeling those Swedish laser eyes are looking straight through me. “He can never love you the way you want him to. It’s just not how he’s wired.” With that, she drops my hand and walks away.

Before I can take a breath, the secretary behind the desk clears his throat. He’s a young white guy with reddish hair and dimpled cheeks. “Doctor O’Connor?”

“Yes?”

“They’re ready for you.”

I glance around, looking for Henrik. “Uhh, he’s still in the bathroom.”

“When he returns, you may both make your way down to the chapel.”

Fuck me, nothing about this moment is how I imagined it would be. I don’t even have my somethings old, new, borrowed, or blue. I know this is a fake wedding and a fake marriage, but I want something about this to feel, I don’t know … reverent? It feels like too much of a jinx on the whole institution to not observe anything sacred.

Eyes narrowed, I scope out my options. There’s a cup of pens on the corner of the desk. I spy a blue one. Inching closer, I pluck it from the bunch and slip it in my pocket. I nearly jump out of my skin when the secretary speaks again.

“Would you like a pen, sir?”

I smile sheepishly, taking the pen from my pocket. “Sorry. I thought I might need it. I’ll just … I’ll go ahead and put this back.” I awkwardly return it to the cup as the secretary smiles.

“I only meant I can give you a new one.” He pulls out a box of brand-new blue pens and offers me one. New and blue.

I take it. “Thanks.” Spying the watch on his wrist, I get an idea. “Hey, is that old?”