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

Well, we’re right back where we fucking started, sitting on the couch in Poppy’s office, waiting for her to tell us how she’s going to make this all go away again. The only difference is that her lovely Chaddy receptionist has been replaced by a highly competent Korean college student named Yoon Hee.

Henrik sits next to me, looking as relaxed as I’ve ever seen him. Why is he not more upset about all this? Why isn’t he freaking out? It’s been two days, and Hanna is still a mess. Now Poppy is pacing, and I feel like I have gravel churning in my stomach.

But he’s just sitting there, sipping the coffee Yoon Hee brought us, looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He catches my anxious stare and smiles, placing a hand on my thigh.

“Can’t even go away for three weeks without it all going to hell in a hand basket,” Poppy mutters, still pacing.

“Sorry, Poppy.”

She spins around in her heels. “Oh, Teddy, don’t you apologize, honey. This isn’t your fault. It’s not your fault either,” she quickly adds at Henrik. “The press is just … well, the worst. But what else is freaking new?”

“But you have an idea?” I shift to the edge of the couch. “Some plan to get us out of this? Some way to spin it all in Henrik’s favor?”

She huffs, dropping down in the chair opposite us. “I’ll not deny it, boys. This really is a rotten kettle of fish. These tabloid vultures aren’t doing you any favors, and the story we were trying to avoid got out in the end.”

“Which story is that?” I say.

Over the last couple days, more articles have been published. Internet sleuths even pulled pictures from my time as an intern. I didn’t know they existed. Action shots of Henrik on the ice, me watching from the bench. There’s even one of him walking off the bus on game day, me a few steps behind. He’s stoic and aloof, completely unobtainable. While I look like a puppy, panting at his heels.

Frankly, they’re embarrassing. More embarrassing than half the guys finding us with my pants around my ankles. At least at the beach, I was thoroughly fucked. The intern-era photos show just how hopeless and desperate I really was.

Poppy gestures to the spread of articles on the coffee table between us. “These photos act as a sort of timeline. At best, the stories make it look like Henrik took advantage of you, preying on your innocence as an intern.”

I snort. My innocence? Yeah, I lost that back in middle school.

“At worst,” she goes on, “These new articles are still painting your quickie marriage as a sham, designed to help Henrik gain custody of Karolina. Your mother saying you’re not married hasn’t helped.”

“My mother is unwell,” Henrik replies. “The Swedish press already issued a retraction, correcting her words.”

“I know,” she goes on. “But pair that little speed bump with the infidelity rumors, the proof of violence, and the broken endorsement deals, and it’s not looking good …”

She pauses at Henrik’s ringing phone. It buzzes on the coffee table, and I see Elin’s name on the caller ID.

Oh fuck.

He glances sharply at me before looking to Poppy. “I have to take this.”

“Please.” She waves her hand. “Be my guest.”

He brings the phone to his ear and answers in Swedish, his tone clipped. In moments, he’s turning it on speaker and setting it on the coffee table. Then he switches to English. “Poppy, this is my lawyer in Sweden, Elin Ågren. Elin, I have you here with Teddy and my team publicist.”

“Hello,” comes her soft voice.

“Hey, Elin.” I wave at the phone, even though she can’t see me.

“What update do you have for us?” says Henrik.

She sighs, and my heart drops from my chest. “I’m sorry, but it’s not good news.”

I grip his knee.

“What news?” he presses, covering my hand with his.

“I’ve just been on the phone with Karolina’s case worker. There are concerns about your suitability to be her primary guardian.”

“Based on what?” he challenges. “Fabricated articles in sports tabloids? The manipulation of my mother? Social media posts?”

“There are concerns about your recent displays of violence. On and off the ice.”

“My god, violence on the ice is his literal job,” I cry. “He’s a professional hockey player for Christ’s sake!”

“And off it?”

Henrik sits forward. “Elin, the stories have it wrong. It wasn’t a drunken brawl between rival teams. I stepped in when a drunken Blackhawks player attempted to sexually assault my husband. Does the Swedish government now hold with assault?”

“He assaulted you, Teddy? There is proof of this?”

I glance from Poppy back to the phone. “He tried. But, like Henrik said, he was drunk, and his team had just lost. It doesn’t excuse anything, but I don’t want to press charges.”

“We have five witnesses to the altercation,” Henrik goes on. “Including the team captains of both the Rays and the Chicago Blackhawks.”

Clearing her throat, Poppy sits forward. “Miss Ågren, Poppy St. James here. I’ve spoken to the head of PR over at the Blackhawks personally, and they assure me Mr. Lamont will not be pressing any charges. To do so would mean legal retaliation, and Mr. Lamont is the one at fault here. Not Henrik, and certainly not Teddy. There’s not a judge in the state of Florida who would rule otherwise.”

“Can you get me something in writing to that effect, including witness statements?”

“I can,” Poppy assures her.

Elin is quiet for a moment. I think she might be taking notes. “By sharing your marriage license publicly, we’ve put the gossip about you not being married to rest. But there’s still the matter of the rumored infidelity. You must know how serious this is in cases of child welfare. The rules about paramours being introduced to children are quite strict—”

“There is no infidelity,” Henrik says over her. “Miss Nilsson works for us. She’s our in-home nurse for Karolina.”

“Yes, I have that noted here. But she stays in the home with you? She shares guardianship of Karolina?”

“No, she works in the home,” I clarify. “But she’s no more a guardian than Karro’s teacher, Mr. Torres. Or is he part of this dark web of infidelity too?”

Henrik squeezes my hand.

Poppy sits forward again. “Miss Ågren, how serious is this? They can’t really be considering revoking Henrik and Teddy’s custody, can they? It’s too cruel for words.”

Heart in my throat, I slap my other hand atop Henrik’s on my knee, bracing for the tsunami wave.

“They can,” Elin replies. “They are.”

“Oh god.” Tears burn my eyes.

But Henrik lunges forward, grabbing the phone off the table. “Elin, clarify. They’re considering revoking custody, or they are revoking custody?”

“They’re still just considering,” she replies.

I let out a breath, my hand pressed to my chest. My heart is racing, and I feel sick.

“Elin, tell them to come again,” Henrik declares.

“What?”

“They must come again and interview us all.”

“Henrik—”

“I will not have the custody of my niece determined by baseless tabloid articles and meritless speculation! They will come, and they will interview everyone in Karolina’s life, everyone who has been close to her these past months—Nurse Hanna and Mr. Torres, the Langleys, Frank at the ice cream shop, her doctors and PTs. Everyone will tell you what you already know: My niece is happy and loved.”

“Surely, there must be a way,” Poppy chimes. “Given the public nature of Henrik’s job, these are certainly unprecedented circumstances. A second home study seems only fair. The team would cooperate in any way you need.”

Elin is quiet for a moment. “I’ll ask them to schedule another home visit.”

Henrik lets out a breath, sinking back against the couch. “Thank you. All we want is a fair chance. In the end, these media stories will play themselves out. When the dust settles, Teddy and I will still be here, loving and caring for Karolina. Because we’re a family. And I will fight for my family. I’ll do whatever it takes.”noveldrama

I still have tears in my eyes, but now I’m smiling, looking at my husband with such pride glowing in my chest. He’s so good to us. Good for us. So quiet, and principled, and strong. It’s crazy to think that just a few months ago, I was more worried about Burning Man and trips to Thailand. Henrik and Karro have taken every single one of my life plans and flipped them inside out. I don’t care what we do, so long as we’re together. I’ll move to Sweden and dance around a maypole. I’ll eat pickled herring with my breakfast. Hell, I’ll even learn to knit.

Okay, I won’t actually be doing the second one. But the other stuff sounds cool. In the end, Henrik’s right. It only matters that we’re together.

He switches to Swedish, his voice measured and controlled as he plans with his lawyer. All the while, he keeps one hand on my thigh. Firm, unwavering.

For six years, the idea of Henrik Karlsson was a fantasy. I painted him as perfect in my mind, timeless and untouchable. I still can’t believe I now have the real thing. But he’s no longer perfect to me. He’s moody and taciturn, slow to change. Sometimes he leaves his beard trimmings in the sink. He’s completely tone deaf and annoyingly prompt. He’s perfectly imperfect.

And he’s mine.

He was a dream. Now he’s my home. And I will fight for him too. I’ll fight for our little girl and the life we’re building. Because he’s right—we belong together, the three of us. Family.