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

Somehow, I survive the evening. Practically everyone from the team filters through my apartment, including some of the support staff friendly with Teddy. They all leave gifts for Karolina and food in the fridge. The food is good, I’ll admit. And I now have enough alcohol to last me through the rest of my NHL career.

When it’s clear Karolina has reached the limit of her endurance, falling asleep on the couch with one hand still in the popcorn bowl, the adults begin cleanup. I keep offering to help, but I’m endlessly rebuffed.

By eight o’clock, my fridge is stocked fit to burst, my kitchen is spotless, my living room is vacuumed, the balloons have disappeared, and every pair of shoes by the door is claimed and removed by its owner. Teddy puts Karolina to bed while I see the last of the guests to the door with many repeated words of “thanks” and “no really” and “too kind.”

Shutting the door as the last of them leave, I hardly have the energy to turn around and lean against it for support. I think I might be a little drunk. Wives kept putting beers and plates of food in my hand all night. I ate my weight in taco dip and drank so much, my fingertips feel numb.

Teddy appears at the end of the hall. He’s shuffling too, fatigue making his shoulders heavy. He catches my eye and stops. Crossing his arms, he leans against the corner and looks around the now-spotless living room. “Long day.”

“Exceptionally long.”

“But a good one, right?”

I purse my lips, saying nothing.

He sighs. “They just want to be there for you, Hen. For Karolina. They’re all trying, and you have to give them that. Besides, you want her to have family here, right? Friends? You saw Emma Langley tonight. She cried when they dragged her away. Unless I’m mistaken, Karro just made a friend for life.”

“You know all their names.”

He shrugs. “Well, I mean, not all of them. I met a bunch of the new wives and girlfriends tonight. Like, I’d never met Paulie’s wife before.”

“But you know them now. And you know their kids. You know all their names and ages.”

“Yeah, I guess. There aren’t that many, so it’s not like it’s hard.”

Pushing off the door, I cross over to the couch and sit down. “Will you teach me?”

“Teach you?”

“Teach me their names. I want to know.”

“What, now? Like, right now?”

I lean back against the cushions with a groan. “No. I’ve had too many beers to try to remember anyone’s name besides my own tonight.”

He joins me on the couch. “Good. Because I think I forgot them all anyway. Man, jet lag is a bitch, huh? Can you believe we started this day in Sweden?” He glances around the apartment. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

I hum my assent.

“Where’s all your stuff?”

“What do you mean?”

He sits forward, gesturing around at the simple furnishings of the living room. “I mean, if I hadn’t seen your secret loft in Stockholm, I wouldn’t know this apartment belonged to the same person. There’s nothing here, Henrik. No books, no camera stuff, no art. Where’s all your stuff?”

I just shrug. “I don’t live here.”

He laughs.

“What?”

“Hen, that makes no fucking sense. You spend more time living here than you do in Sweden.”

“I work here,” I correct. “My life is in Sweden. It will always be in Sweden.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.”

I sit forward with another tired groan. “A noise from you is always something. What does the ‘wow’ mean?”

He dares to roll his eyes at me. “Okay, it means, ‘Wow, I had no idea you were a fourth-degree black belt in compartmentalization.’ I suspected it, obviously. But this is off the freaking charts, even for you.”

“What?”

“Henrik, you’ve put literal living in a box. And apparently that box stays in Sweden. So, this place is … what? Where you just power down like a robot? Rest and refuel between games?”

“Pretty much.”noveldrama

He snorts another laugh. “Let me guess, you’re a Virgo. No wait—” He holds up a hand. “Oh god, don’t tell me you’re a Capricorn.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve said that to him over the last two weeks.

“When’s your birthday, Henrik?”

“January ninth. Why?”

“Yep.” He slaps both his thighs as he slowly bends forward and stands. “That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“I’m fake married to a Capricorn. It’s my own fault, really. I made this bed of thorns, and now I’m gonna lie in it.”

Virgos and Capricorns? I understand now. In my tired state, it took me a moment to translate it in my head. “You believe in the zodiac?”

“And you don’t, right? Typical Cappy.” With that, he wanders off towards the kitchen.

“What makes you think I resemble a Capricorn?” I call after him.

He turns around, both hands raised. “Look, I don’t think either of us is sober enough to open this particular can of worms tonight, okay?”

I rise to my feet, wobbling only slighting. “Go on, tell me.”

“Fine. Where to start?” He ticks each point off on his fingers. “How about being a super serious workaholic who is inflexible, stubborn, a total pessimist—oh, and totally repressive towards feeling his own emotions?”

I cross my arms, glaring at him. “A damning list of faults, to be sure. Have I any virtues in your eyes, partner?”

He blinks, swaying a little too. I sense the exact moment he doubles the defenses on his high walls. Damn, how does he do that so fast? “I can’t remember.”

My irritation rises. “You’re lying to me. What did I say about lying?”

He groans, turning away. “Look, it’s late. And I’ve still gotta call an Uber.”

My annoyance pops like a balloon. “Wait—you’re leaving?”

“Well, yeah.”

I follow him, my heart suddenly racing. “Teddy, it’s late. We’ve been traveling all day. Where are you going?”

“My hotel.” He ducks behind the side of the couch, grabbing his blue duffel and backpack off the floor.

Alcohol and fatigue are making my brain feel foggy. “Why would you go to a hotel?”

Teddy turns, searching my face as if I’m now the one with acute memory problems. “Because I live there. Or at least I was living there, remember? Vicki set me up in hotel until my unit at the team apartments was ready. But now I don’t need it because I’m moving here.”

“So then why are you leaving?”

“Because look around.” He waves with his free hand. “Do you see any of my stuff here? It’s all over at the hotel. I gotta go get it and bring it here.”

“I still don’t see why you need to do that tonight. You’re tired, Teddy. We both are. Surely it can wait until morning.”

He shifts his weight, not looking at me.

I step in closer. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m out of clean clothes, remember? We couldn’t do laundry because we were traveling, so I’ve got nothing to wear. Come on, it’s no big deal,” he adds, stepping around me. “I’ll only be gone for one night. I’ll do laundry, get my shit, and be back tomorrow. Besides, you’re a natural with Karro. You don’t need me here to do a wheelchair transfer, right?”

“No,” I admit. Because he’s right. I don’t need him here. Not so long as my schedule allows me to stay with Karro.

“Anyway, I’m sure you’re dying to get me out of your hair, right? Don’t think I didn’t see you climbing the walls all night having strangers in your crib. I’d take it back if I could but … well, it’s too late now,” he finishes under his breath.

I don’t even realize that I’ve followed him to the door. “Teddy …”

“Really, it’s okay. You’re a private person, and that’s totally cool. If I felt more sober, I’d just drive myself over there. But an Uber works too. Why don’t you shoot me a text in the morning, or whenever, and we’ll make a plan from there? I’ll only come back when you’re ready. That cool?”

He goes to open the door. He gets as far as turning the knob and pulling it in an inch. Then I’m right behind him. Reaching over his shoulder, I push the door shut. “Stay.”

He stiffens, hand still on the knob. I practically have him pinned between me and the door. “What are you doing?”

“Stay,” I say again. “You’re tired, and I think you’re a little drunk. I’d feel better if you stayed.”

“I need my stuff. Henrik, I gotta change my clothes.”

“I have everything you need here. Please. What’s mine is yours, you know that.” He should know it. He’s standing here now in my sweater and jeans, a spritz of my cologne at his neck.

He groans, pressing his forehead to the door. “Will you stop being so damn polite? I know you want me out, okay?”

Christ, is that what this is about? I drop my left hand down from the door and place it on his right shoulder. “Look at me, Teddy.”

He lets himself be turned, back pressed against the door. “What do you want from me, huh?” His green eyes are narrowed, jaw tight. His stance is almost defiant. I know what he’s doing. He gave it away with his little speech. This isn’t about needing clean clothes. He had no problem hunting through my “fly as fuck” closet back in Stockholm. He’s running from me because I made him think I don’t want him here.

I hold his gaze, my hand still on his shoulder. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Man, whatever.” He tries to turn away. “I’ll just see you in the morning—”

I press in as he turns, pinning him to the door.

He drops his bags, both hands going to the door as he pushes back with his hips. “Henrik—fuck—”

“I want you here.”

He groans. “Come on, man, don’t.”

“Fuck the others. Having them all here was admittedly very difficult for me. Because you’re right—I’m a private person. I don’t like sharing my spaces with anyone.”

“So then let me leave,” he says, his tone almost pleading.

I drop both hands down to his shoulders. “Not until you understand the difference.”

“What difference?”

“You are not anyone to me,” I pant. “Not anymore.”

The fight goes out of him as he presses himself to the door. “Then what am I?”

Christ, what a loaded question. Do I even know the nature of what Teddy is? Of what he’s becoming? Six years ago, Teddy was the silly intern who walked into traffic. Two weeks ago, he was the kind soul who tethered me to reality when I received the worst news of my life. Last week, he was the friend who helped me grieve for my sister and my mother. This morning, he revealed himself to be a valuable partner, someone who thinks through the things I overlook, like decorating Karro’s room to make it feel like home.

“What am I, Henrik?” he asks again.

I give him the only answer I have. “You’re someone. You’re my someone. And I want to take care of you. Please, Teddy—you’ve been taking care of me so well for weeks now. Let me return the favor. Don’t drive off in the dark to go sit alone in an empty hotel room. Stay. Stay here with me and let me take care of you for a change.”

He sighs, shoulders sagging with resignation.

I sigh too, but in relief. Pushing off the door, I give him the space to fully turn. He eyes me warily, clearly unsure what to do next. I offer out my hand. “Come.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Just come with me.”

He places his hand in mine, and I lead him down the length of the apartment, back towards the kitchen. Cutting left, we take the second hall that splits between the laundry and hall bathroom on one side and my bedroom suite on the other.

Teddy’s feet shuffle as he walks behind me. “Henrik, seriously, what are you doing?”

“Showing you my favorite room in the house.”

“I swear to god, if you have a red room back here …”

“What’s a red room?”

He snorts. That’s all I get for an answer as I lead him first into my bedroom. Like the rest of the apartment, the walls are white, not red. The furnishings are simple, just a pair of long and tall dressers and a king-sized bed on a platform frame. One wall is full glass that I can fog over with the touch of a button. It offers the best view of the sunset over the river.

Teddy looks around, his gaze landing on the bed. “Henrik …”

“Come,” I say again, leading him through into the bathroom.

“Whoa.” He stops in the doorway and looks around. The bathroom is almost as large as the bedroom. The short wall by the door features a natural wood vanity with a deep-sided basin sink. A lighted mirror hangs over the sink, reflecting the colorful lights of the city skyline. The longest wall is glass from floor to ceiling.

“It’s one-way,” I assure him. “No one can see in.”

He steps into the room and half turns. “It’s impressive.”

I walk over to the deep, soaking tub, leaning my hip against the side. There’s a stone-walled shower with double shower heads too. And in the far corner, near the door to the large walk-in closet, there’s a therapeutic home spa with steam and dry-heat functions. “This is my favorite room in the apartment. I designed it.”

He nods, still looking around. “Yep, I can see that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s so … you.” He points to the corner. “Is that a personal freaking sauna?”

“Yes. And the tub is deep enough to fully submerge your body. You can do ice treatments, hot baths. Perfect for rehabilitation, muscle relaxation, and improved circulation.”

He smiles. “It’s a very nice bathroom, Henrik.”

“It’s yours now. As is the room just outside. And anything in this closet.” I walk over and tap the button that opens the sliding mirrored door, revealing my deep and wide walk-in closet. The feature lights come on automatically, glowing golden over the sleek back row of designer suits, all arranged by color. The right wall is a menagerie of shirts and folded sweaters, shoes, and stacks of slacks and denim. The left, shortest side is almost exclusively athletic wear.

“Fuck me,” Teddy mutters, unable to hide his look of glee. We discovered back in Stockholm that we wear the same size in everything but pants, even down to shoes.

“If you can’t find something to your liking in this closet, then there’s a bathrobe hanging on the back of the door.” I point it out for him. “Give me an hour, and I’ll have all your clothes washed and ready for you. I’ll fold them and place them on the bed.”

“Henrik …”

I walk back over to the tub and turn on the hot water tap.

His eyes go wide. “What are you doing?”

Reaching under the sink, I pull out a fluffy white towel. “I’m drawing you a bath.”

“What?”

“I’m drawing you a bath,” I repeat.

“Why?”

“Because you’re exhausted. You’ve pushed yourself to the limit these last two weeks. You deserve to take a rest. Please, allow me this.”

He glances around again, hands fisted in his pockets. “Lemme get this straight … You want me to sit in your tub and wear your designer pajamas while you do my damn laundry?”

“Yes.”

He just blinks.

“Would you like a beer while you relax? Some wine maybe? Music?”

The sound of the filling tub breaks the silence stretching between us as I wait, giving Teddy time to decide what he wants.

“I … A beer would be nice,” he finally says.

“What kind? I think we have enough to open our own pub at the moment.”

His mouth tips with a smile. “Maybe an IPA? Something pale and hoppy. Novy has good taste. I’ll have one of whatever he brought.”

“And music?”

He shrugs. “I can just play something on my phone.”

“This room has Bluetooth speakers. Feel free to connect.” Stepping past him, I head back to the kitchen. I spy his blue duffel by the front door, grab it, and do as I promised, starting a load of his laundry. Then I go hunt down some toiletries from the guest bathroom, making sure he has everything he needs.

By the time I return with his frothy beer in a cold glass, the water is off, Teddy is in the tub, and music is softly playing over the speakers. I recognize the artist. It’s Norah Jones. I think I have one of her records back at my loft.

Teddy has his locs pulled up, piled high on his head in a messy bun. As I watch from the doorway, he sits forward in the tub with a tired groan, rolling both his shoulders until they crack. Then he sinks back, water sloshing. I knock on the half-open door, making him jolt.

“Uhh … come in,” he calls over his shoulder. “I thought you must have fallen asleep out on the couch or something.”

“I was just giving you some privacy.”

One of his dark brows arches. “Privacy in your room? In your tub?”

“It’s your room now,” I remind him.

“Henrik, come on. You have to let up on your stupid rule. This bathroom is great but let me stay in the guest room. Honestly, I’ll be fine in there.”

I just stare him down. He’s the one who called me stubborn, right? Inflexible? “Are you going to lift any of your rules?”

At this challenge, he stiffens, not daring to look at me. “No,” he says in a soft voice.

“Then the room is yours. And here.” I offer him the glass of beer.

Reaching an arm out over the deep side of the tub, he takes it. The tub blocks all but his head and shoulders from my view. “Thanks.”

“How’s the tub?”

He groans again, sinking back into the steaming hot water. “So fucking good. I can’t remember the last time I got neck deep in a tub that wasn’t a gross hotel hot tub. I like knowing no kid in shark floaties has peed in here recently.”

I chuckle. “No kids have touched this tub. Just me. And now you.”

He stills, his lips touching the rim of his beer glass. Slowly, he takes a sip of the frothy golden pale ale. “You have to stop feeling so bad about all this.”

“What?”

“You have to stop,” he says again. “Stop feeling so sad and guilty, and like you’ve trapped me here against my will. It makes me feel like we’re doing something wrong. And this isn’t wrong … right?” He looks up at me. His cheeks and brow sheened from the steam of the bath.

“No,” I reply. “This isn’t wrong.”

He offers me a smile, nodding at the glass in his hand. “The beer is really good.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Novikov.”

“Tell him in front of Morrow, and you may just get a show.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

We’re both quiet for a moment.

“Hey, Henrik?”

I perk up. “Yeah?”

“You gonna stand there all night and watch me sit here naked in your tub?”

Warmth rises in my cheeks as I quickly turn away. “No, of course not. I—good night, Teddy.”

“I mean, you can,” he teases. “It’s still your house, right?”

“I said no.”

“Pull up a chair. Hey, do you have any shark floaties I can borrow?”

“Good night, Teddy,” I say more forcefully, shutting the door as I leave.