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

“Did you have fun today, min lilla mermaid?” I tuck Karro into bed with her stuffed animals, and she nods, her eyes bleary with fatigue.

Henrik and I washed the rainbow tiger stripes from our faces as soon as we got home, but Karro cried when Henrik told her she had to wash off her glittery unicorn. With a gentle nudge from me, he relented. Our new deal is that Karro can wear her face paint to bed tonight, and we’ll wash it off in the morning. Also in the morning, she has to eat two eggs and take her vitamins without complaining. It feels like an even trade.

“Are you leaving?” she murmurs.

“I don’t have to. I can sit right here while you fall asleep. Want me to sing ‘Part of Your World’ again?”

Her mouth turns down into that little pout I’ve come to love so much. She reaches for Teddy the Bear, wrapping her casted arm around him. “They said you’re leaving.”

I’m distracted, fluffing her pillows. “Who said what, honey?”

“A mommy. At the apples. She said you’re leaving.”noveldrama

I go still. We stopped by a caramel apple booth just before we left the event tonight. The kiddos could all dip and decorate their apples with different fixings. The two that Karolina and Henrik made are sitting on the kitchen island. “Honey, who said that? Can you remember what she looked like?”

Karro shakes her head. “I don’t want you to go.”

I drop down on my elbow. “Oh, honey, no. I don’t know why that mommy said that, but it’s not true, okay?”

Tears well in her eyes. “You won’t leave?”

My protective instincts flare. Some of the other WAGs were definitely milling around with their kids. I swear to fuck, if I find out who was talking about us like that in front of my little girl, I’m gonna sling her around by her goddamn hair. Swallowing my anger, I focus on Karro. “Honey, look at me.”

She glances up, her bottom lip still quivering.

“I will never leave you. Not ever. You and me? We’re friends for life, right?”

Slowly, she nods.

Bending down, I kiss her brow, avoiding the unicorn paint. Then the words spill forth, like I’ve been dying to say them all my life. “Oh, honey, I love you.”

Her eyes brighten as she smiles up at me. “You do?”

“Of course I do. Can you teach me in Swedish? I want you to know in both languages. Say ‘I love you.’”

“Jag älskar dig.”

“Jag älskar dig,” I repeat. “Karolina, you’re my best little friend, and I love you. I want to always be in your life.”

She squeezes her bear. “And Morbror?”

“He loves you too, honey. So much.”

But she shakes her head. “You won’t leave him?”

Fuck. How did I ever think this could go any other way? There’s no faking a marriage when a child is involved. There is no temporary. There’s no “just helping out a friend.” Henrik may have first caught my attention, but Karolina reeled me in. The two of them have me bound. I’m in this now, to whatever end. I take her hand in mine, giving it a kiss. “When I married your morbror, I made him a vow. I’ll not break it. I’m here for as long as you both want me to stay. Is that okay?”

Sighing, she settles back against her pillows, a frown still on her face.

I brush the wisps of blonde hair off her brow. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“Mamma said I could be flower girl.”

“What?”

“At Morbror’s wedding.” She looks down at her bear. “I would be flower girl, Mamma said.”

I glance to the framed picture sitting on her nightstand. It’s a picture of Petra with her arms around Karro. Both are laughing, smiling at the camera, as Karro holds up a bunch of freshly picked flowers.

This admonishment from this five-year-old stings worse than any questions about me leaving ever could. Deep down, I know it’s the same reason my family is still so upset with me. They’re worried about my choices, sure. And they’re right to be worried. I was emotional, irrational, and rash—all my worst traits—multiplied by, like, a thousand.

But I’m also their Teddy. They fed me, raised me, helped me with my homework, got me to swim meets and track practice. They went to every graduation, every award ceremony. Then I go and get married, and I don’t even send them a picture. I don’t have a picture. I just had a spouse they’d never met and a faxed copy of a marriage certificate in Swedish.

I denied them all something critical. I denied them the chance to support me, cheer for me, love me out loud. And I’m not alone. Henrik did the same thing. His parents understand. They wished us well in their way. But Karro? The girl who loves princesses, and dresses, and happily-ever-afters? The girl who picked flowers with her mom and still believes the world is bright and perfect? She had a dream too, a dream of being the flower girl at Henrik’s wedding.

We took that from her.

“Let me talk to Morbror,” I whisper, not sure what else to say. “We’ll fix it, okay?”

She doesn’t answer. She’s already fading, her eyelids fluttering, heavy with sleep.

Clicking off her twinkle lights, I slip from her room. But I don’t go in search of Henrik. Instead, I take my phone from my pocket and head out to the balcony. I dial Shae’s number and wait as it rings. I would understand if she didn’t take my call.

She finally picks up on the fourth ring. The line is quiet as we connect. Then comes a voice I know as well as my own. “You got something to say to me?”

Sinking down onto the deck chair, I hold the phone to my ear. “Shae, I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

I frown down at the ground. “For … god, everything.”

She sighs. “That’s not how this works. You can’t just go passing out sorrys like they’re candy and expect us to tell you they taste sweet.”

“I know.”

“Well, so try again.” She waits, not hanging up on me, not yelling.

Folding myself forward, my elbows on my knees, I groan. “Okay, well, can I at least tell you what happened at my wedding?”

She’s quiet for a moment. Finally, she extends the olive branch I know I don’t deserve. “What happened?”

I take a deep breath let it out, and start talking a mile a minute, spilling out all the truth I’ve kept bottled up for weeks. “Oh god, Shae, it was a disaster. First of all, I was wearing a T-shirt and athletic pants. At my wedding.”

She gasps. “No.”

“Yes! Shae, I had zippers at my ankles. And I needed my something old, new, borrowed, and blue, right?”

“Obviously.”

“Yeah, so I tried to steal a blue ink pen from this secretary, but then he caught me. He was super nice and actually let me borrow his dad’s old watch too. And did I mention the whole thing was in Swedish?”

Her side of the line crinkles and I’m sure she’s opening a bag of chips. She likes to snack while she’s on the phone. “Swedish, huh? So, you might have signed away all your organs or something.”

“That’s exactly what I said! Right after I freaked out and called the officiant a Swedish C-3PO.”

She laughs. “A C-what? Ted, start from the beginning.”

This time, I do. I start over, and I start from the beginning. The real beginning. I start from the moment I was walking down the sidewalk six years ago, checking our group text on my phone. I start from the moment I first met Henrik. And I leave nothing out.