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

Henrik and I walk down the hall towards the chapel, following the lead of the officiant. He’s an older man, very European looking, with silver hair. Instead of a tie with his blue suit, he wears a yellow silk ascot tucked into his open shirt collar.

I wonder if he’d swap fits with me, something else I can borrow. I’m already wearing the secretary’s watch on my wrist. Felix was cool about it, immediately offering it to me when I asked. Apparently, it was his dad’s, so it’s old too.

The officiant pulls open the chapel door and—

“Whoa.”

All thoughts of what I’m wearing leave my head, and my mouth drops open. I assumed a chapel tucked inside an administrative building would look a bit like a hospital chapel—a few bench seats, a spray of fake flowers in a vase, maybe a crucifix perched on a table. But no, this is a proper freaking chapel.

I half turn as I follow Henrik inside. It looks like they dismantled a medieval chapel and reconstructed it inside this long, narrow room. The walls are wood paneled, draped with what looks like real tapestries. There’s an altar set before a floor-to-ceiling stained-glass window. It even smells old in here. Now I feel even more self-conscious about my stupid Nike Swoosh tee and my sneakers. At least Henrik isn’t dressed any sharper.

The officiant says something in Swedish and Henrik responds. As I watch, the officiant steps behind an ornately carved lectern, opening a blue folder placed on top. He says something else and Henrik nods, handing him our printed marriage license.

“The ceremony will be in Swedish,” Henrik says under his breath. “I hope that’s alright.”

“Yeah, that’s cool.” I mean, what the hell else am I gonna say? Of course a wedding in Sweden is done in Swedish. They’ll just have to let me know when it’s time to say, “I do.”

Henrik takes his place in front of the lectern, hands folded. I mirror his pose, trying to keep my eyes from darting around to the carved details of the crown molding.

As soon as we’re staged, the officiant begins. His voice is low and pleasant. I don’t understand a word until I hear my name. I jolt, tearing my gaze away from the wall tapestry. “What? Oh, yeah, that’s me. Am I saying ‘I do’ now or …”

Henrik smiles. “We’re not quite there yet.”

The officiant reads a few more sentences. When I hear him say Henrik’s full name, I freeze. Oh fuck, this is real. I’m getting married to Henrik Johan Björn Karlsson.

“Wait.” Backing away, I raise a hand. “I just … can we … I think I need a minute.”

Henrik looks concerned. “Are you unwell?”

“Well, that really remains to be seen, doesn’t it?” I press a hand over the heart now racing in my chest.

The officiant says something in Swedish and Henrik shakes his head. Oh god, I have to tell him. I can’t trap him in a lie. Not one this huge. I’m terrible at keeping secrets. I’m even worse at keeping my feelings buried. He has to know. Henrik takes a step closer. “Teddy—”

“I need to talk to you,” I say over him, my hand still pressed to my chest.

“Now?”

“Yeah, this really can’t fucking wait.” I tug at the collar of my tee. “Fuck, is it hot in here?”

“You can tell me anything.”

My gaze darts to where the officiant stands, watching us. Do I really have to do this in front of a live audience? I jab my thumb at him. “Does he speak English?”

“Of course,” Henrik replies.

At the same time, the perturbed officiant frowns. “I’m fluent in seven languages, sir, including English.”

“Perfect. Then I need to talk to you over there.” Spinning around, I march to the far end of the chapel.

Henrik says something to the officiant that sounds like an apology. Then he follows me to the corner and lowers his voice. “What’s wrong?”

I brace my hands above my knees, half folded over as I suck in air. “Oh, you know, just casually defrauding the government with Henrik fucking Karlsson.”

His hand settles on my shoulder and I wanna scream. “If this is too much for you—”

“No, it’s cool.” I stand up straight, breaking our connection. “I’m not backing out. I said I’d do this, and I will. But I just …” I groan, fighting to find the right words. “Look, I know everything about this will be a lie, okay? But I can’t marry you in a lie. Does that make sense?”

His brain is clearly churning as he tries to follow my point. “I don’t understand.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I don’t either. I just know … Okay, so there are things about me you don’t know. And I feel like I can’t marry you unless you know them. They’re just sitting on my chest, like a weight pressing me down. Our marriage will be a lie, but I can’t marry you without you knowing this truth. Does that make sense?”

“What truth do you need me to hear?”

Taking a deep breath, I hold his gaze. This is it. This is my moment. “I’m …” My brain races as I try to think of what to say to finish the sentence.

In love with you.

Dying inside.

Constantly overcompensating for my anxiety with humor.

Afraid you’ll never see me as anything more than the intern who once walked into traffic.

But I just think all those things as the only word that comes out is, “Gay.”

Henrik blinks. “What?”

Yep, we’re rolling with this. “Henrik, I’m gay. I’ve never said that to you, and you deserve to know before you marry me. People are gonna say a lot of things about us when this all leaks, but that at least will be true. I’m very much gay.”

His shoulders relax as he offers me a weak smile. “I know.”

I lean away, eyes wide. “What? How do you know?” It’s not like I hide it, but I also don’t walk around carrying a rainbow flag and ringing a bell.

“When you were an intern, I caught you kissing a rookie at Shelby O’Sullivan’s birthday party. Do you not remember?”

Fuck. Was that him? “In the garage?”

His smile falls. “No, in the bathroom.”

Double fuck, because now he looks annoyed.

“You don’t remember?”

“Uhh …”

Yeah, that party really hurt my cred. I dressed up as Merlin from The Sword in the Stone, got sloppy drunk, and woke up the next morning in Sully’s backyard dressed as an astronaut with his damn dog licking my face. I remember dancing. I for sure remember drinking. And I remember getting handsy with someone in the garage. But I have literally no memory of kissing anyone in a bathroom. I definitely have no memory of getting caught by Henrik! Oh my god, the thought of it is going to haunt me till I die.

Time to pivot back to my point … if I ever had one. “So, you really don’t care? That I’m gay, I mean?”

His annoyed expression disappears as he takes a step closer. “Of course not. Teddy, you are your own person. I would never judge you for how you live your life. And this marriage will change nothing for you, I swear it.”

I huff, crossing my arms. “Seriously? Fake or not, we’re still getting married right now. We’re not buying lemons at the store.”

“I know—”

“Well, you can’t just say shit like that. You heard Elin. This has to look real. We have to tell people. Everyone’s gonna know. And they’re gonna say you’re gay too, whether or not it’s true. Are you ready for that? Because coming out as gay as a professional athlete isn’t easy.”

“I know,” he says again.

“You were there when the Prices came out, when Novy and Morrow came out—”

“I know,” he says over me, his frustration clearly rising. Good. Anything is better than this cool, calm complacency.

“Teddy, I—” His words fall short with a shake of his head.

I step closer. “You what?”noveldrama

His navy-blue eyes look steely in this light. “I will not trap you. On paper, we will be married, yes. But in private, you will be free to live your life on your terms. And as soon as I can set you free, I will. I swear it.”

Set me free.

Because, to him, this marriage will be a cage. That’s how he sees this, how he sees me. My heart sinks further, if that’s even fucking possible. But this isn’t about me and it never was. I square my shoulders at him. “We’re not doing this for ourselves, remember? We’re doing it for the little girl waiting for you at the hospital. She needs us. We’re just gonna take this one step at a time, yeah?”

Slowly he nods. “Any other truths you need to share?”

My mouth goes dry as I search his beautiful face. “Nope. I think that was the big one.”

Liar.

He gestures towards the altar. “Then, shall we?”

I let him lead the way, and we resume our positions. Henrik folds his hands, so I fold mine. Henrik looks at the corner of the lectern, so I do too. But the moment the officiant opens his mouth to resume the ceremony, my panic has me spiraling out all over again. I throw up my hands. “I’m sorry, but we’ve gotta hit the big red pause button again. Henrik, that’s not the only thing I needed to tell you.”

The officiant may be annoyed, but only concern lines Henrik’s face. “Teddy, please, you can tell me anything.”

I look from him to the officiant, my heart racing. “Fuck, seriously? You want me to just say it right here in front of Swedish C-3PO?”

The officiant’s frown deepens.

Henrik sighs. “Teddy …”

“Fine.” I raise my hands again. “Fine, I’ll say it. It’s really no big deal, but I feel like I can’t not say it, so I’m just gonna say it. I had a crush on you, okay? I’m gay, and when I first started interning with the Rays, I had a big gay-boy crush on you. But, you know, it’s your own fucking fault because you saved my life. So, that’s it. That’s the big secret.” I wave my hand at the officiant. “Okay, C-3PO, you go. What’s the Swedish for ‘I now pronounce you man and man,’ because Karolina has to be out of her scans by now. And Felix really needs this watch back—”

“Hold on.”

I wrap my hand around the borrowed watch on my wrist, suddenly feeling about ten inches tall. I’m such a fucking coward. I only told him half the truth. I just can’t bear the thought of his dismissal. Not when I’m standing at this altar, literally marrying him. He already sees this as a trap we can’t escape. I can’t tell him that part of me wants to walk into this cage. My heart couldn’t take the rejection.

“Teddy, look at me.”

Oh fuck, anything but that.

Taking a deep breath, I look Henrik in the eyes. There’s so much pain there, hidden under his river of outward calm. He’s so tired. I know he’s not sleeping, not with the nightmares. He woke me last night with his shouting. He thinks I don’t know. He thinks I don’t watch him leave the apartment every morning before the sun rises, determined to run his grief away.

A muscle twitches in his jaw as his gaze drops to where I’m gripping my wrist. “Where did you get that watch?”

Seriously? I just admitted to my crush and his only question is about the watch? “It was something old. And borrowed.”

“What?”

“Something old, new, borrowed, and blue,” I recite. “It’s just a silly wedding ritual. It’s nothing. Forget it. Are we doing this?” I look to the officiant.

“Teddy …” Henrik reaches for me but then drops his hand.

I bite the inside of my cheek, fighting the urge to cry.

“Look at me,” he says again, softer this time.

Blinking my eyes clear, I glance up, meeting his quiet gaze.

“Tell me the truth. Why are you marrying me?”

“For Karolina,” I reply, praying this earnest feeling in my heart is reflected in my eyes. “Henrik, I swear it.”

“She means everything to me,” he presses.

“I know.”

“She is my only reason for standing here.”

“I know,” I say again. “She’s my reason too.”

He holds my gaze. “Is she your only reason?”

I won’t lie to him again. Swallowing my nerves, I square my shoulders. “She’s the only reason that matters. Trust me, Henrik. I’ll not fail you. Or her.”

Silence stretches between us as the seconds tick by. Finally, he nods. “Then shall we do this?”

“Yeah. I’m good.”

The officiant raises a brow at Henrik, waiting. Henrik nods, and the officiant continues the ceremony. I measure this moment by the rapid beating of my heart as Henrik doesn’t take his eyes from me. He’s so calm, so steady. The officiant pauses and Henrik says, “I do.” He says it in English, no doubt for my benefit.

A few more words are spoken, and then they’re both looking to me. I know what’s expected. I’m ready to play my part in this charade. Heart pounding, I look only at Henrik. He nods in reassurance. “I do,” I declare.

And then it’s over. The officiant says a few quick words before he closes the book. Henrik visibly relaxes. Reaching over the lectern, he shakes the older man’s hand.

Wait …

The officiant pulls a pen from his pocket, still talking to Henrik. He hands him the pen, pointing with his finger to the signature line on our marriage license.

“Wait,” I hear myself say.

Henrik glances up, pen poised over the license. “What?”

“Well … is that it? We’re married? Just like that?”

“Once we both sign this, we are.” He scratches his name on the signature line. Then he’s holding out the pen to me.

“But—” I press a hand to my chest, leaning away.

“What?” he says again.

“But we didn’t even kiss.” I glance between them. “Is it even legal if we don’t kiss? That seals the deal, right?”

“This makes it legal,” Henrik replies, gesturing to the license with the pen.

“Sign with your full name, if you please,” says the officiant.

I feel empty, hollowed out. This was my wedding day, and there was no jumping the broom. No teary-eyed family, clapping and cheering for me. No pictures. No champagne. Nothing to mark this moment except two names hastily scratched on a page.

Stuffing all my emotions in a box, I take two steps over to Henrik’s side and pluck the pen from his hand. I look down at the marriage license. It’s in Swedish, of course. I could be agreeing to donate all my organs right now. Or transferring all my worldly goods into his name. I wouldn’t know. This is an exercise in blind faith.

“Just here,” says the officiant, tapping the blank line next to Henrik’s signature.

Heart in my throat, I sign my full name, Theodore Malik O’Connor. My slanting cursive glimmers up at me in shiny blue ink. I hand the pen back to my husband. “There. We’re married.”

Married to Henrik Karlsson, and I didn’t even get a kiss.

This was a big fucking mistake.