Page 23 of Pucking Strong (Jacksonville Rays #4)

Christ, what a loaded question. Do I even know the nature of what Teddy is?

Of what he’s becoming? Six years ago, Teddy was the silly intern who walked into traffic.

Two weeks ago, he was the kind soul who tethered me to reality when I received the worst news of my life.

Last week, he was the friend who helped me grieve for my sister and my mother.

This morning, he revealed himself to be a valuable partner, someone who thinks through the things I overlook, like decorating Karro’s room to make it feel like home.

“What am I, Henrik?” he asks again.

I give him the only answer I have. “You’re someone.

You’re my someone. And I want to take care of you.

Please, Teddy—you’ve been taking care of me so well for weeks now.

Let me return the favor. Don’t drive off in the dark to go sit alone in an empty hotel room.

Stay. Stay here with me and let me take care of you for a change. ”

He sighs, shoulders sagging with resignation.

I sigh too, but in relief. Pushing off the door, I give him the space to fully turn. He eyes me warily, clearly unsure what to do next. I offer out my hand. “Come.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Just come with me.”

He places his hand in mine, and I lead him down the length of the apartment, back towards the kitchen. Cutting left, we take the second hall that splits between the laundry and hall bathroom on one side and my bedroom suite on the other.

Teddy’s feet shuffle as he walks behind me. “Henrik, seriously, what are you doing?”

“Showing you my favorite room in the house.”

“I swear to god, if you have a red room back here …”

“What’s a red room?”

He snorts. That’s all I get for an answer as I lead him first into my bedroom.

Like the rest of the apartment, the walls are white, not red.

The furnishings are simple, just a pair of long and tall dressers and a king-sized bed on a platform frame.

One wall is full glass that I can fog over with the touch of a button.

It offers the best view of the sunset over the river.

Teddy looks around, his gaze landing on the bed. “Henrik …”

“Come,” I say again, leading him through into the bathroom.

“Whoa.” He stops in the doorway and looks around.

The bathroom is almost as large as the bedroom.

The short wall by the door features a natural wood vanity with a deep-sided basin sink.

A lighted mirror hangs over the sink, reflecting the colorful lights of the city skyline.

The longest wall is glass from floor to ceiling.

“It’s one-way,” I assure him. “No one can see in.”

He steps into the room and half turns. “It’s impressive.”

I walk over to the deep, soaking tub, leaning my hip against the side.

There’s a stone-walled shower with double shower heads too.

And in the far corner, near the door to the large walk-in closet, there’s a therapeutic home spa with steam and dry-heat functions.

“This is my favorite room in the apartment. I designed it.”

He nods, still looking around. “Yep, I can see that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s so … you.” He points to the corner. “Is that a personal freaking sauna?”

“Yes. And the tub is deep enough to fully submerge your body. You can do ice treatments, hot baths. Perfect for rehabilitation, muscle relaxation, and improved circulation.”

He smiles. “It’s a very nice bathroom, Henrik.”

“It’s yours now. As is the room just outside.

And anything in this closet.” I walk over and tap the button that opens the sliding mirrored door, revealing my deep and wide walk-in closet.

The feature lights come on automatically, glowing golden over the sleek back row of designer suits, all arranged by color.

The right wall is a menagerie of shirts and folded sweaters, shoes, and stacks of slacks and denim.

The left, shortest side is almost exclusively athletic wear.

“Fuck me,” Teddy mutters, unable to hide his look of glee. We discovered back in Stockholm that we wear the same size in everything but pants, even down to shoes.

“If you can’t find something to your liking in this closet, then there’s a bathrobe hanging on the back of the door.” I point it out for him. “Give me an hour, and I’ll have all your clothes washed and ready for you. I’ll fold them and place them on the bed.”

“Henrik …”

I walk back over to the tub and turn on the hot water tap.

His eyes go wide. “What are you doing?”

Reaching under the sink, I pull out a fluffy white towel. “I’m drawing you a bath.”

“What?”

“I’m drawing you a bath,” I repeat.

“Why?”

“Because you’re exhausted. You’ve pushed yourself to the limit these last two weeks. You deserve to take a rest. Please, allow me this.”

He glances around again, hands fisted in his pockets. “Lemme get this straight … You want me to sit in your tub and wear your designer pajamas while you do my damn laundry?”

“Yes.”

He just blinks.

“Would you like a beer while you relax? Some wine maybe? Music?”

The sound of the filling tub breaks the silence stretching between us as I wait, giving Teddy time to decide what he wants.

“I … A beer would be nice,” he finally says.

“What kind? I think we have enough to open our own pub at the moment.”

His mouth tips with a smile. “Maybe an IPA? Something pale and hoppy. Novy has good taste. I’ll have one of whatever he brought.”

“And music?”

He shrugs. “I can just play something on my phone.”

“This room has Bluetooth speakers. Feel free to connect.” Stepping past him, I head back to the kitchen.

I spy his blue duffel by the front door, grab it, and do as I promised, starting a load of his laundry.

Then I go hunt down some toiletries from the guest bathroom, making sure he has everything he needs.

By the time I return with his frothy beer in a cold glass, the water is off, Teddy is in the tub, and music is softly playing over the speakers. I recognize the artist. It’s Norah Jones. I think I have one of her records back at my loft.

Teddy has his locs pulled up, piled high on his head in a messy bun. As I watch from the doorway, he sits forward in the tub with a tired groan, rolling both his shoulders until they crack. Then he sinks back, water sloshing. I knock on the half-open door, making him jolt.

“Uhh … come in,” he calls over his shoulder. “I thought you must have fallen asleep out on the couch or something.”

“I was just giving you some privacy.”

One of his dark brows arches. “Privacy in your room? In your tub?”

“It’s your room now,” I remind him.

“Henrik, come on. You have to let up on your stupid rule. This bathroom is great but let me stay in the guest room. Honestly, I’ll be fine in there.”

I just stare him down. He’s the one who called me stubborn, right? Inflexible? “Are you going to lift any of your rules?”

At this challenge, he stiffens, not daring to look at me. “No,” he says in a soft voice.

“Then the room is yours. And here.” I offer him the glass of beer.

Reaching an arm out over the deep side of the tub, he takes it. The tub blocks all but his head and shoulders from my view. “Thanks.”

“How’s the tub?”

He groans again, sinking back into the steaming hot water. “So fucking good. I can’t remember the last time I got neck deep in a tub that wasn’t a gross hotel hot tub. I like knowing no kid in shark floaties has peed in here recently.”

I chuckle. “No kids have touched this tub. Just me. And now you.”

He stills, his lips touching the rim of his beer glass. Slowly, he takes a sip of the frothy golden pale ale. “You have to stop feeling so bad about all this.”

“What?”

“You have to stop,” he says again. “Stop feeling so sad and guilty, and like you’ve trapped me here against my will. It makes me feel like we’re doing something wrong. And this isn’t wrong … right?” He looks up at me. His cheeks and brow sheened from the steam of the bath.

“No,” I reply. “This isn’t wrong.”

He offers me a smile, nodding at the glass in his hand. “The beer is really good.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Novikov.”

“Tell him in front of Morrow, and you may just get a show.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

We’re both quiet for a moment.

“Hey, Henrik?”

I perk up. “Yeah?”

“You gonna stand there all night and watch me sit here naked in your tub?”

Warmth rises in my cheeks as I quickly turn away. “No, of course not. I—good night, Teddy.”

“I mean, you can,” he teases. “It’s still your house, right?”

“I said no.”

“Pull up a chair. Hey, do you have any shark floaties I can borrow?”

“Good night, Teddy,” I say more forcefully, shutting the door as I leave.