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

It’s after one in the morning by the time I get back to the apartment. It’s so dark and quiet. After the chaos of the karaoke bar, there’s almost a fuzzy humming in my ears. The doors to Karro’s and Henrik’s rooms are both open, so I tiptoe on socked feet through the living room and into the kitchen, trying not to rustle the damn paper in my massive gift bag.

Man, those WAGs sure can hold their liquor. I tapped out after two hurricanes. Switching to root beer, I scarfed down a cheeseburger, half a basket of fried pickle chips, and an order of mozzarella sticks, and I still feel like I have springs for legs.

Leaving my backpack and the gift bag on the island, I slink around to the fridge. Henrik’s hyper organization is most clearly manifested in his food preparation. I see now what an anomaly it was for us to eat takeout curry on his couch in Stockholm. Now that we’re back, the man is meticulous with his diet.

Twice a week, a private chef name Alex comes over and preps a bunch of stuff for Henrik to eat—grilled chicken and rice, creamy vegetable soups, salmon avocado poke bowls, a dozen hard-boiled eggs, overnight oats. There’s always fresh fruit and veggies and some kind of prepared starch. I’m still learning what food I’m allowed to take that won’t mess with his mojo.

Reaching for a glass container of leftover mashed potatoes, I pause, glancing over my shoulder. Did he just call my name?

I wait, listening to hear the sound again. But there’s nothing.

The fridge door starts beeping at me, and I curse under my breath, pulling out the container of potatoes. I shut the door as quickly and quietly as I can. Skipping right past the reheating phase of my midnight munchies, I open the cutlery drawer and pluck out a spoon. I’m digging into the cold potatoes when I hear the sound again. I set the spoon down, leaving the potatoes on the counter, and tiptoe towards the living room. Is Henrik up?

A distressed groaning filters down the hallway from his room.

Shit. I thought he was starting to move past this? I don’t want to wake him if I don’t have to. He’s mentioned before it can be hard for him to get back to sleep. Restless sleep is better than no sleep the night before a game. I turn to go back to my potatoes when his cry sends a chill down my damn spine.

Then I hear Karro’s voice. “Morbror?”

Oh fuck, he woke her up.

His shouting gets louder, and I’m on the move, jogging across the living room.

“Morbror?” Poor Karro sounds so scared. She knows she’s not supposed to get up without help because of her ribs. “Teddy!” Her panicked cry twists my heart.

“I’m coming, baby!” Ducking into her room, I click on the twinkle lights strung to the frame of her bed. They flicker, casting a halo of golden light over her. Karolina’s lying in the middle of her pink flower sheets, surrounded by her stuffed animals. There’s a haunted look on her face.

“Morbror’s hurt,” she cries, tears in her eyes.

“He’s not hurt. He’s just having a bad dream. I have to go help him, okay? You stay right here—”

“No, don’t go!”

From the room next door, Henrik howls like a dog with a broken leg.

Karro reaches for me with both hands, and I hurry forward, taking them in mine. I kiss each one, my lips brushing over her purple cast. “Baby, I have to help Morbror. You take Teddy and you squeeze him tight, tight, tight. Hold him till I get back.” I hand her the bear and kiss her forehead, ignoring her cries as I dash from the room.

Stumbling into Henrik’s room, I cut on the light. He thrashes on the bed with the sheet twisted up around his naked hips. His legs are tangled too, adding to his panic. His chest is slicked with sweat.

Shutting out the sound of Karro’s weak cries, I charge forward. “Come on, man. Wake up.”

He groans as I touch him, rolling away.

I shake his shoulder. “Henrik, wake up.”

Mistaking me for some kind of life raft, he latches on, practically pulling me down onto the bed as he tries to climb my body. Cursing, I roll with him. “Henrik, it’s me. It’s Teddy. You need to wake up.”

He pants, his sweaty, heavy body wrapping itself around me like a giant squid.

“Henrik, please wake up.” Fighting fire with fire, I wrap my arms and legs right back around him, doing everything I can to trap down his flailing arms. “I’m not hurting you. Just wake up.”

I feel it the moment he does. The pained groaning stops, and his muscles spasm as he fights my hold. I instantly let up, relaxing all my muscles so I’m just holding him, not holding him down. “Shh. You’re okay. Henrik, it’s me. It’s Teddy. You were just having a bad dream again.”

He grunts, trying to shift out from under me. “I’m awake,” he says on a breath.

“Are you sure?”

He taps my shoulder. “Let me up.”

From beyond the wall, Karro cries out again. “Teddy, come back!”

He curses in Swedish. “Karro—”

“No.” I push myself off him. “I’ll go to her.”noveldrama

He grabs my wrist. “I should go—”

“No,” I say again. Glancing down, I take in his sweat-slicked, naked form. His chest is heaving. His pupils are dilated. He looks panicked and scared. “She doesn’t need to see you like this.”

With a groan and a nod, he lets go of my wrist. I slip off the bed, hurrying back into Karro’s room. She’s sitting up now, clutching tight to Teddy the Bear. “Morbror’s hurt?”

I find her a smile and cross over to her bed. “No, honey. He’s not hurt. He was just having a bad dream. Do you ever have bad dreams?”

“Yeah.”

I sit down on the edge of the bed and place a hand on her knee. “So, then you know. It’s not very fun, is it?”

She shakes her head, her lower lip trembling.

“Oh honey, he didn’t mean to scare you. Your morbror loves you so much. You’re the most important thing in the world to him.” I help her get settled back against her pile of pillows, resetting her stuffed animals in order of emotional importance.

“And you?”

I shift her stuffed giraffe to the end of the line. With a name like Mister Sparkles, it’s no wonder he’s practically in exile. “Me what, honey?”

“I’m important to you?”

I sit up, blinking back my sudden tears. Reaching over, I cup her face, brushing the velvet softness of her cheek. “You’re so important to me. And I’m so glad I met you. We’re best friends now, right?”

She nods.

“You’re my little warrior princess. You’re so strong, honey. I wanna go on all your adventures with you. Like Puffin and Jean-Bob and Odette. Can I do that?”

She nods again as I hand her the rainbow unicorn to wedge in next to Teddy the Bear.

“You know, as soon as these casts come off, we’re gonna go ride horses on the beach and learn to surf. Won’t that be fun?”

She snuggles into the blanket as I tuck her in. “Yeah.”

“And you’re gonna do ballet again, and you’ll teach me all the steps. We’ll make Morbror do it too.”

She smiles weakly, her fatigue taking over now that the rush of her adrenaline is leaving her. “In a tutu?”

I smile back, brushing a hand over her braided hair. “And ice skates.”

Her smile falters as she squeezes Teddy the Bear. “He was yelling.”

“Not at you. Never at you, honey bun. Henrik would pull down the sky for you. You’re his most favorite person in the world.”

Right on cue, Henrik appears in the doorway. He’s cleaned himself up and put on some shorts and a T-shirt. “Karro?”

She takes him in, looking for any sign of injury. Then she breaks down crying. “Morbror.”

He hurries over to the bed, dropping down next to me. Folding himself over her, he hugs her, talking in fast Swedish, offering soothing words and touches that calm them both. I scoot down to the end of the bed, giving them room. Henrik says something that involves my name. That part, at least, I understand.

Karolina peeks under the crook of his arm at me and I see her smile. Then she starts to giggle.

Henrik sits up. “Vad är fel?”

“You have to say it,” she says in English.

“Say what?”

She peeks around him at me. “He has to say it, ja?”

I can’t help but smile, warmth blooming in my chest to know she’s okay. This didn’t scar her for life. “That is the rule, yes.”

Henrik glances between us. “What rule?”

“If you talk about me in Swedish, you have to say, ‘I’m a Swedish meatball’ in English,” I explain.

This causes Karro to squeak with laughter, hiding her face behind her unicorn.

Henrik feigns a glare. “Absolutely not.”

“No, you do,” she cries. “It’s the rule.”

Henrik raises a brow. “The rule, you say?”

She nods.

He considers for a moment. “Well, I suppose in that case …”

We both wait. I flash her a wink and she stifles her giggles as Henrik sighs dramatically. “Very well, then. I’m a Swedish meatball.”

Karro laughs, falling back against her pillows.

Heavy moment over, we both tuck her in, giving her and Teddy the Bear kisses.

“God natt, mitt lilla lamm,” he says. “Sov så gott.”

“God natt,” she murmurs, relaxing in the comfort of knowing she’s loved and protected. “God natt, Teddy.”

I glance to Henrik. “What do I say? Teach me something.”

He smiles. “Say, ‘Dröm underbara drömmar.’”

“What does it mean?”

“Dream wonderful dreams.”

Leaning over Karro, I give her one last kiss. “Dröm underbara drömmar, honey bun.”

She nods, her eyes already closed as she holds tight to her bear.

Henrik and I sit there and wait, watching her under the glow of her twinkle lights. Then he turns, and he’s looking at me. What is he trying to see? Feeling awkward, I break first, rising from her bed. Henrik follows me from her room. I wonder if he’ll go right back to his room, but he doesn’t. He follows me through the living room and into the kitchen.

Desperate to put distance between us, I slink around the island and reach for my forgotten potatoes.

“What the hell was that?” he says, breaking the silence. “What are you even doing here?”

“What?” I glance around, confused. “I live here, remember?”

“You said you were staying out tonight.”

“Well, I didn’t. And it seems like I came home pretty much right on time.”

He crosses his arms, and I try to ignore the way they bulge so beautifully in his too-tight T-shirt. “I had everything under control.”

I snort, snapping the lid back on the mashed potatoes. “Yeah. Clearly.”

“Hey, I was taking care of myself long before you ever entered my life, Teddy. Karolina too. We are not your responsibility.”

His words hit me like a slap. “How the fuck do you figure that? I fucking married you, Henrik. I signed her custody papers. Or did you forget that too?” I point towards her room. “That little girl is half mine. And I am all hers. I’m not gonna just stand by and watch while she cries, panicking, because you can’t sleep through the night.”

His nostrils flare as he glares at me. “I vowed this would impact you as little as possible. I vowed you’d be free to live your life. And so you are. You should be out now, living that life. Not trapped here with me.”

“Oh god, don’t be such a fucking martyr. You’re not the first person to live with night terrors. They suck, but they’re treatable. And preventable. But you have to want to help yourself. You have to actually seek treatment. If not for you, do it for Karro. She doesn’t deserve to be woken up, scared in her bed, thinking you’re in the next room fucking dying. She’s experienced enough parental death for one lifetime, don’t you think?”

Now he’s the one reeling back.

Fuck, how did we even get here? Why are we arguing at two in the morning in the fucking kitchen? He has a game tomorrow. And we’re both exhausted. No good can come of this.

“I don’t wanna fight,” I say, releasing all the wind in my sails. “If you want me to go that fucking bad, I’ll go—”

“Don’t.” He closes his eyes as if my words pained him. “Don’t go.” He opens his eyes, looking right at me. Fuck, what is he looking for so intently? “I want you to stay. I want you here, Teddy. I didn’t want—that is to say, I don’t …”

I tilt my head, trying to make sense of his gibberish. “Did your internal translator just break?”

“I don’t own you,” he blurts. “Even with that ring on your finger, even with the contract signed, you are not mine. But I’m possessive, Teddy. I’m precious about my things and about the people close to me. I like control, and I like to feel … ordered. But I don’t get to do that with you. I haven’t the right. I—tonight was difficult for me,” he adds, all but stuttering over the words. “But that’s my problem. I had no right, Teddy. And I’m sorry. With better sleep, I think I’ll be more articulate.”

The words are a jumble, but he’s said enough. More than fucking enough. And now my heart is racing. Is this … is Henrik admitting to feeling jealous? That’s a big emotion for him. Was he jealous tonight, thinking I was out with Colin? Is that what set him off? Restless and anxious, he came back here alone, and his out-of-control feelings led him to have a night terror?

I should feel mortified, right? In his inability to process his own emotions, I caused a man to have a night terror. That’s mortifying.

So why am I also flattered?

Henrik feels possessive over me. Precious, he said. He wants me, wants to keep me close. Inside, I’m crowing like a damn rooster. He gave me his truth, so I give him mine. “I wasn’t out with Colin tonight.”

He blinks, registering my words. “What?”

“I didn’t go out with Colin tonight. That’s not where I was.”

A dozen fresh emotions flash across his face before he squashes them down. “Where did you go?”

“Rip’s.”

His head tips to the side. “The karaoke bar?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Check the bag.”

He glances around. “What?”

I sigh, pointing across the island. “The massive gift bag right in front of you. Open it.”

His curiosity gets the better of him, so he rustles through the tissue paper, pulls out the puffy WAG jacket, and holds it up. “What is this?”

“Another manifestation of your ownership of me.”

He glances around the jacket. “What?”

I huff, crossing my arms. “It’s a WAG jacket, Henrik. I was forced to attend a WAG induction party tonight on pain of Caleb Price’s foot up my ass. I showed up, they shoved me in that jacket, then Colton fucking Morrow, my literal hockey hero, hugged me and told me how proud he was that there was another queer Black man in the Rays’ Wives and Guys Club.”

“Wives and Guys?”

“Well, they can’t still call us the ‘wives and girlfriends,’ can they? Not when four of us have big, swinging dicks.”

He turns the jacket around, reading the back. “What’s Tedrik?”

I lean against the counter with my hip. “It’s our ship name. You know, Teddy plus Henrik equals Tedrik. It’s just a silly nickname. Most of the WAGs have something like that on their jackets. Caleb’s says “CAKE” for Caleb and Jake.”

He lowers the jacket to the island, his thumbs brushing over the rhinestone-covered number seventeens on the shoulders. “You think this jacket represents ownership?”

I just shrug. “It’s a pretty big freaking deal in your world, Hen. There’s only one way to get a jacket like this: a player has to claim you. And the WAGs expect me to wear this. Maybe not all the time. But for game one, they want us in them. And for the playoffs and stuff like that.”

He drops his hands away from the jacket. “You don’t have to wear it. If anyone has anything to say about it, you send them to me. Agreed?”

I consider for a moment, arms still crossed. “And if I want to wear it? If I choose to wear my ‘if found, please return to Henrik Karlsson’ jacket?”

A ghost of a smile flits across his lips, and I have my answer. He wants me to wear it. Fuck me, in that case, I’ll never take it off. “I would respect your wishes,” he says, his tone measured. “Whatever you want, Teddy. You can have whatever you want from me.”

Someday I’m gonna replay those exact words on a loop in my mind while I jerk myself off in the shower. Not tonight, obviously. But soon.

For now, we’ve had enough of an emotional roller coaster. Any more thrills, and I’ll be performing CPR on this overwrought Swede. This level of emotionality is still so new for him, so raw and unfiltered. Heck, for me it’s a boring Thursday night. Banal, even. But for Henrik, I get the feeling this has been the equivalent of pulling some hard G’s. He needs a cooldown. And a reset.

“Come on.” I slip the container of potatoes off the counter and return them to the fridge.

“What?”

“Come with me.”

Curious, he leaves the jacket on the island and follows me down the hallway and into my bedroom. “What’s wrong?”

“Get in the bed.”

He stiffens, glancing from the bed back to me. “Teddy, we have rules. You require your own room, remember?”

“Yeah, well, I’m breaking my rule.”

“Teddy …”

“Hey, it’s mine to break. And I get whatever I want from you, remember? Your words, not mine.”

He crosses his arms. “What exactly do you want?”

“I want you close in case I have to wake you from another nightmare. And I want you further away from Karro so you don’t wake her up and scare her again.”

He groans, dragging a hand through his already-mussed hair. “I’ll go see Doctor Tyler this week. I’ll get a prescription for a sleep aid.”

“Sounds good. But that can’t help us tonight. Get in the bed, Henrik.”

Too tired to fight me, he shuffles around to the far side of the bed and crawls under the covers. I excuse myself to the bathroom and get ready for bed, not coming out until my teeth are brushed, face is washed, locs are moisturized, and head scarf is wrapped snugly around my head. As I come out, I strip off my T-shirt, dropping it to the floor.

Henrik is stretched out on the bed, quiet and deadly as a fucking mountain lion. His eyes are open, those denim blue irises swallowed up by the black of his pupils as he tracks my every movement. Even this man’s casual attention sets my every nerve on fire. Now, feeling his possessive stare? Let’s just say I’m about to release a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

I slip under the covers on my side of the bed and roll away from him, pretending he’s not even there as I get my phone charging and take my nightly vitamins. Then I click off the lamp and nestle into the pillows. I wait a beat, listening for the sound of Henrik’s slow, even breathing. I know he’s still awake. Reaching behind me, my fingers brush over the sheets until they feather lightly up his arm.

“What are you doing?” he whispers.

Wrapping my hand around his wrist, I tug him closer.

He lets himself be reeled in, closing the distance until he’s pressed as close as we were in that tiny bed in the boat hut.

“Teddy, I can’t,” he rasps, a slight catch in his voice. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Shhh.” I drape his arm around my middle, luxuriating in the feel of his bare skin pressed against mine.

He scoots in close, all but resting his head on my pillow.

“There,” I soothe, taking a deep breath and letting it out. “You can’t drown if you’re holding onto the dock. Now go to sleep. You have a game tomorrow.” I feel him relax behind me, his breath warm as it fans across the back of my neck. “God natt, Henrik.”

He shifts his hold on me, curling his arm up until it’s banded against my chest. “God natt, mitt hjärta.”

Within minutes, he’s asleep.