Page 14 of Pucking Strong (Jacksonville Rays #4)

“ S o, what did you tell them about me?”

I glance to the side as I drive. Teddy sits next to me, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.

We picked up a rental car this morning. Normally, I would have taken the car I keep in the city, but that’s the car Petra was driving in the accident.

Even if they could repair it, I don’t want it now.

In fact, I would pay dearly to crush what remains into a dense metal cube and sink it to the bottom of a lake.

“I told them what they need to know,” I reply, flicking my blinker before coasting around a slow-moving truck.

My parents still live in the same home from my childhood.

It’s in a sleepy little town about two hours south of the city along the coast. I wouldn’t have left Karro alone at the hospital today, but this was a task I could entrust to no one else.

My stomach feels hollow as my gaze darts to the rearview mirror for the hundredth time.

My sister’s urn watches me from the back seat. Today, I’m taking Petra home.

“Do they know we’re married?” Teddy presses.

“They know.”

“And they know why we did it? Like, they know it’s not real? And they’re not mad?”

I sigh, hands gripping tight to the wheel.

I’ve spoken to my parents a few times since Petra’s death.

Dad wanted to come to the hospital, but it’s too hard with Mom.

She likes her routines. And he couldn’t come alone.

She gets too anxious when he’s away, even if a neighbor comes over to stay with her.

The news of Petra’s death devastated them, causing Mom to be even more confused. She keeps taking the phone from him and demanding that I put Petra on the line. Then we have to tell her all over again that she’s dead. Her grief cuts like a knife every time.

I waited to call Dad last night until I was sure she’d be asleep. Then I told him about Teddy, about our plan to take Karolina with us back to Jacksonville. “He knows this is what’s best for Karro.”

Teddy doesn’t press any further. I glance his way, catching the reflection of the road in his dark sunglasses.

He’s been acting strange since we left the municipal building last night.

He’s been quiet, almost taciturn. It’s so unlike him.

He feels far away. His body may be strapped in the front seat of this car, but his mind is elsewhere.

No, it’s more than his mind. It’s his everything .

His light, his color, his energy that hums like a fluorescent bulb day and night.

Always shining. Always on. But since we walked out of that chapel, he’s been off.

And I want to know why. For the foreseeable future, my fate is bound to this man.

Breaking my cardinal rule of minding my own business, I reach for the volume dial and turn down the radio. “What are you thinking about?”

Teddy stays quiet, one long finger tapping the side of his thigh. He doesn’t look my way. “Nothing,” he finally says.

I bristle, hands gripping tighter to the wheel. “Look, I’ll not ask for much in this …” What do I even call us? Husbands? Partners? Skipping over the language, I plunge ahead. “There are many things I can tolerate, but lying isn’t one.”

He shifts in his seat, still not looking at me.

“For as long as you are in Karro’s life, I have to know I can trust you. I have to know you’ll be open with me. When I ask you a question, I expect an answer. This won’t work any other way.”

My words act like a switch, and suddenly he’s on again, his body humming with life. He turns slowly to look at me, my own face reflected in his sunglasses. “You really wanna know what I’m thinking about?”

“You can’t shut me out now. Our situation is too precarious.”

He huffs, crossing his arms. “Our situation is totally fucked! That’s what I’ve been thinking. I think we made a terrible mistake. Huge. Colossal. God, like, what were we even thinking? We got married!” He turns in his seat, gesturing between us. “You and me. We’re married.”

“I know.”

“We’re husbands. And it’s legal, like, everywhere! Except a few countries in Africa and Asia. I don’t know, we’ll have to check. But in a hundred and fifty-something countries, I am now your legal partner.”

“I know,” I say again.

“Well, then pardon my fucking French, but why are you not more freaked out right now? Why are you so fucking calm? You’re like Frosty the fucking Snowman over there. Meanwhile, I’m Elsa, totally out of control, just turning everything to ice with my chaos fingers!”

He wiggles his fingers like he’s doing magic, and my brow furrows in confusion. “None of that was French—”

“It’s an expression! You see? This is what I mean!

I’m married to a man who doesn’t know the expression ‘pardon my French.’ And now I’m on my way to meet his parents—two people who, until last night, didn’t know I fucking existed.

And when we get back to Jacksonville, I’m gonna have to tell my family.

I have to tell them what I did, Henrik. My mom, my sisters—ohmygod.

” He jerks his sunglasses off and rattles them down to the cupholder, dragging a hand over his face.

I hate that this is distressing him so much. The last thing I want is for this to strain any relations he has with friends or family. “Will they be upset?”

He groans into his hand, making a sound somewhere between a laugh and a snort.

“Are you kidding? They’re gonna murder me.

And they’d be right. This is just like me.

Classic Teddy, always trying to solve other people’s problems.” He twists around to face me again.

“I told Julio this would happen. I fucking called it. I should’ve bet money on it. ”

My head is spinning. “Who’s Julio?”

“The TSA guy,” he says with a distracted wave of his hand.

“Who?”

“Julio,” he cries. “Julio, with the flashlight and the mustache and the ‘How long are you traveling to Sweden?’ bullshit.”

“Wait, you’re talking about the immigration officer who checked our passports?”

“ Yes . God, will you keep up?”

His voice carries a tinge of panic as he spills forth everything that’s been boiling inside him overnight.

Forget Elsa, he’s like some kind of mythical volcano, all quiet and serene, until you feel the ground start to rumble.

Now he’s spouting hot lava all over the inside of this rental car, and I’m powerless to stop it.

I may also be the one who set him off.

“I need to know what the fuck we’re doing here,” he goes on. “This was so fucking irresponsible. Of both of us. I need rules, Henrik. I need a plan. We got married with no fucking plan. I mean, who does that?”

“Teddy—”

“No, I know me, obviously. But you? You don’t do this.

You don’t make life-altering changes at the drop of a hat.

My god, you wear the same brand of socks under your skates for every practice and game.

You eat the same fucking breakfast every day.

You’re a robot. You drink your coffee black, Henrik.

No milk. No sugar. Who drinks their coffee black? ”

I shrug, changing lanes to move around a truck. “I like my coffee black.” Though it hasn’t escaped my notice that when he makes me coffee, he adds a little cream. His way tastes good too.

He huffs, his left knee bouncing like he’s tapping out a distress signal in Morse code. “You’re not getting it. I know all these things about you, but you don’t know me. I mean, do you know anything about me besides my fucking name? I’m your husband now—”

“I know ,” I say for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Well, if we’re gonna pretend for the sake of some Swedish child welfare review board, you should maybe know, like, one real thing about me.

But you never ask. About anyone. Ever! You make no effort, Henrik.

You don’t know me. You don’t know any of us.

And now we’re stuck together, and I don’t know how the hell we’re gonna fake this. ”

His harsh words cut almost as deep as his clear lack of faith in me. “I know you, Teddy. I’ll admit, not well. But I do know you.”

“Prove it.”

I keep my eyes on the winding road. “How?”

His knee stops shaking as he considers for a moment. “Give me three things.”

“What?”

“Three things you know about me. Prove that I’m not crazy.

Prove there’s something here, something we can build a foundation on.

It won’t be a real marriage, and I know that.

I’m not asking for that. I’ll never ask you for that.

But I need to know you can at least be my friend.

I can’t do this if you’re not even my friend.

I can’t pretend. It’ll kill me, Henrik.”

I’m quiet for a moment, considering.

In my silence, he curses under his breath. “Seriously? God, just pull over.”

“Teddy—”

“Pull the fucking car over!”

Slowing down, I pull over onto the wide shoulder, leaving plenty of space for cars to pass around. “There. Better? Now, let’s just take a moment and—”

Flinging off his seat belt, Teddy throws open his car door and exits the vehicle.

My anger surges as I unbuckle. “What the hell are you doing? Get back in the car!”

“Just go,” he shouts over his shoulder. “I’ll find my own way back to Stockholm.”

I launch from the car and chase after him. “Teddy, wait!”

“Go away!”

“Don’t you think this is a bit dramatic?”

“ Yes! ” He spins around, eyes blazing. In this moment, he’s the personification of a volcano as he stares me down, hands fisted at his sides. “Of course this is dramatic. Because I’m dramatic!” He splays a hand over his chest. “Which you would know, if you knew me at all!”

“You drink oat milk lattes!”

His breath leaves him in a huff as he stares me down. “What?”