Page 34 of Pucking Strong (Jacksonville Rays #4)

I t’s after one in the morning by the time I get back to the apartment.

It’s so dark and quiet. After the chaos of the karaoke bar, there’s almost a fuzzy humming in my ears.

The doors to Karro’s and Henrik’s rooms are both open, so I tiptoe on socked feet through the living room and into the kitchen, trying not to rustle the damn paper in my massive gift bag.

Man, those WAGs sure can hold their liquor. I tapped out after two hurricanes. Switching to root beer, I scarfed down a cheeseburger, half a basket of fried pickle chips, and an order of mozzarella sticks, and I still feel like I have springs for legs.

Leaving my backpack and the gift bag on the island, I slink around to the fridge.

Henrik’s hyper organization is most clearly manifested in his food preparation.

I see now what an anomaly it was for us to eat takeout curry on his couch in Stockholm.

Now that we’re back, the man is meticulous with his diet.

Twice a week, a private chef name Alex comes over and preps a bunch of stuff for Henrik to eat—grilled chicken and rice, creamy vegetable soups, salmon avocado poke bowls, a dozen hard-boiled eggs, overnight oats.

There’s always fresh fruit and veggies and some kind of prepared starch.

I’m still learning what food I’m allowed to take that won’t mess with his mojo.

Reaching for a glass container of leftover mashed potatoes, I pause, glancing over my shoulder. Did he just call my name?

I wait, listening to hear the sound again. But there’s nothing.

The fridge door starts beeping at me, and I curse under my breath, pulling out the container of potatoes.

I shut the door as quickly and quietly as I can.

Skipping right past the reheating phase of my midnight munchies, I open the cutlery drawer and pluck out a spoon.

I’m digging into the cold potatoes when I hear the sound again.

I set the spoon down, leaving the potatoes on the counter, and tiptoe towards the living room. Is Henrik up?

A distressed groaning filters down the hallway from his room.

Shit. I thought he was starting to move past this?

I don’t want to wake him if I don’t have to.

He’s mentioned before it can be hard for him to get back to sleep.

Restless sleep is better than no sleep the night before a game.

I turn to go back to my potatoes when his cry sends a chill down my damn spine.

Then I hear Karro’s voice. “Morbror?”

Oh fuck, he woke her up.

His shouting gets louder, and I’m on the move, jogging across the living room.

“Morbror?” Poor Karro sounds so scared. She knows she’s not supposed to get up without help because of her ribs. “Teddy!” Her panicked cry twists my heart.

“I’m coming, baby!” Ducking into her room, I click on the twinkle lights strung to the frame of her bed. They flicker, casting a halo of golden light over her. Karolina’s lying in the middle of her pink flower sheets, surrounded by her stuffed animals. There’s a haunted look on her face.

“Morbror’s hurt,” she cries, tears in her eyes.

“He’s not hurt. He’s just having a bad dream. I have to go help him, okay? You stay right here—”

“No, don’t go!”

From the room next door, Henrik howls like a dog with a broken leg.

Karro reaches for me with both hands, and I hurry forward, taking them in mine.

I kiss each one, my lips brushing over her purple cast. “Baby, I have to help Morbror. You take Teddy and you squeeze him tight, tight, tight. Hold him till I get back.” I hand her the bear and kiss her forehead, ignoring her cries as I dash from the room.

Stumbling into Henrik’s room, I cut on the light. He thrashes on the bed with the sheet twisted up around his naked hips. His legs are tangled too, adding to his panic. His chest is slicked with sweat.

Shutting out the sound of Karro’s weak cries, I charge forward. “Come on, man. Wake up.”

He groans as I touch him, rolling away.

I shake his shoulder. “Henrik, wake up .”

Mistaking me for some kind of life raft, he latches on, practically pulling me down onto the bed as he tries to climb my body. Cursing, I roll with him. “Henrik, it’s me. It’s Teddy. You need to wake up.”

He pants, his sweaty, heavy body wrapping itself around me like a giant squid.

“Henrik, please wake up.” Fighting fire with fire, I wrap my arms and legs right back around him, doing everything I can to trap down his flailing arms. “I’m not hurting you. Just wake up.”

I feel it the moment he does. The pained groaning stops, and his muscles spasm as he fights my hold. I instantly let up, relaxing all my muscles so I’m just holding him, not holding him down. “Shh. You’re okay. Henrik, it’s me. It’s Teddy. You were just having a bad dream again.”

He grunts, trying to shift out from under me. “I’m awake,” he says on a breath.

“Are you sure?”

He taps my shoulder. “Let me up.”

From beyond the wall, Karro cries out again. “Teddy, come back!”

He curses in Swedish. “Karro—”

“No.” I push myself off him. “I’ll go to her.”

He grabs my wrist. “I should go—”

“No,” I say again. Glancing down, I take in his sweat-slicked, naked form. His chest is heaving. His pupils are dilated. He looks panicked and scared. “She doesn’t need to see you like this.”

With a groan and a nod, he lets go of my wrist. I slip off the bed, hurrying back into Karro’s room. She’s sitting up now, clutching tight to Teddy the Bear. “Morbror’s hurt?”

I find her a smile and cross over to her bed. “No, honey. He’s not hurt. He was just having a bad dream. Do you ever have bad dreams?”

“Yeah.”

I sit down on the edge of the bed and place a hand on her knee. “So, then you know. It’s not very fun, is it?”

She shakes her head, her lower lip trembling.

“Oh honey, he didn’t mean to scare you. Your morbror loves you so much. You’re the most important thing in the world to him.” I help her get settled back against her pile of pillows, resetting her stuffed animals in order of emotional importance.

“And you?”

I shift her stuffed giraffe to the end of the line. With a name like Mister Sparkles, it’s no wonder he’s practically in exile. “Me what, honey?”

“I’m important to you?”

I sit up, blinking back my sudden tears. Reaching over, I cup her face, brushing the velvet softness of her cheek. “You’re so important to me. And I’m so glad I met you. We’re best friends now, right?”

She nods.

“You’re my little warrior princess. You’re so strong, honey. I wanna go on all your adventures with you. Like Puffin and Jean-Bob and Odette. Can I do that?”

She nods again as I hand her the rainbow unicorn to wedge in next to Teddy the Bear.

“You know, as soon as these casts come off, we’re gonna go ride horses on the beach and learn to surf. Won’t that be fun?”

She snuggles into the blanket as I tuck her in. “Yeah.”

“And you’re gonna do ballet again, and you’ll teach me all the steps. We’ll make Morbror do it too.”

She smiles weakly, her fatigue taking over now that the rush of her adrenaline is leaving her. “In a tutu?”

I smile back, brushing a hand over her braided hair. “And ice skates.”

Her smile falters as she squeezes Teddy the Bear. “He was yelling.”

“Not at you. Never at you, honey bun. Henrik would pull down the sky for you. You’re his most favorite person in the world.”

Right on cue, Henrik appears in the doorway. He’s cleaned himself up and put on some shorts and a T-shirt. “Karro?”

She takes him in, looking for any sign of injury. Then she breaks down crying. “Morbror.”

He hurries over to the bed, dropping down next to me.

Folding himself over her, he hugs her, talking in fast Swedish, offering soothing words and touches that calm them both.

I scoot down to the end of the bed, giving them room.

Henrik says something that involves my name. That part, at least, I understand.

Karolina peeks under the crook of his arm at me and I see her smile. Then she starts to giggle.

Henrik sits up. “Vad ?r fel?”

“You have to say it,” she says in English.

“Say what?”

She peeks around him at me. “He has to say it, ja?”

I can’t help but smile, warmth blooming in my chest to know she’s okay. This didn’t scar her for life. “That is the rule, yes.”

Henrik glances between us. “What rule?”

“If you talk about me in Swedish, you have to say, ‘I’m a Swedish meatball’ in English,” I explain.

This causes Karro to squeak with laughter, hiding her face behind her unicorn.

Henrik feigns a glare. “Absolutely not.”

“No, you do,” she cries. “It’s the rule.”

Henrik raises a brow. “The rule, you say?”

She nods.

He considers for a moment. “Well, I suppose in that case …”

We both wait. I flash her a wink and she stifles her giggles as Henrik sighs dramatically. “Very well, then. I’m a Swedish meatball.”

Karro laughs, falling back against her pillows.

Heavy moment over, we both tuck her in, giving her and Teddy the Bear kisses.

“God natt, mitt lilla lamm,” he says. “Sov s? gott.”

“God natt,” she murmurs, relaxing in the comfort of knowing she’s loved and protected. “God natt, Teddy.”

I glance to Henrik. “What do I say? Teach me something.”

He smiles. “Say, ‘Drom underbara drommar.’”

“What does it mean?”

“Dream wonderful dreams.”

Leaning over Karro, I give her one last kiss. “Drom underbara drommar, honey bun.”

She nods, her eyes already closed as she holds tight to her bear.

Henrik and I sit there and wait, watching her under the glow of her twinkle lights.

Then he turns, and he’s looking at me. What is he trying to see?

Feeling awkward, I break first, rising from her bed.

Henrik follows me from her room. I wonder if he’ll go right back to his room, but he doesn’t.

He follows me through the living room and into the kitchen.

Desperate to put distance between us, I slink around the island and reach for my forgotten potatoes.

“What the hell was that?” he says, breaking the silence. “What are you even doing here?”