Page 35 of Pucking Strong (Jacksonville Rays #4)

“What?” I glance around, confused. “I live here, remember?”

“You said you were staying out tonight.”

“Well, I didn’t. And it seems like I came home pretty much right on time.”

He crosses his arms, and I try to ignore the way they bulge so beautifully in his too-tight T-shirt. “I had everything under control.”

I snort, snapping the lid back on the mashed potatoes. “Yeah. Clearly.”

“Hey, I was taking care of myself long before you ever entered my life, Teddy. Karolina too. We are not your responsibility.”

His words hit me like a slap. “How the fuck do you figure that? I fucking married you, Henrik. I signed her custody papers. Or did you forget that too?” I point towards her room.

“That little girl is half mine. And I am all hers. I’m not gonna just stand by and watch while she cries, panicking, because you can’t sleep through the night. ”

His nostrils flare as he glares at me. “I vowed this would impact you as little as possible. I vowed you’d be free to live your life. And so you are. You should be out now, living that life. Not trapped here with me.”

“Oh god, don’t be such a fucking martyr.

You’re not the first person to live with night terrors.

They suck, but they’re treatable. And preventable.

But you have to want to help yourself. You have to actually seek treatment.

If not for you, do it for Karro. She doesn’t deserve to be woken up, scared in her bed, thinking you’re in the next room fucking dying.

She’s experienced enough parental death for one lifetime, don’t you think? ”

Now he’s the one reeling back.

Fuck, how did we even get here? Why are we arguing at two in the morning in the fucking kitchen? He has a game tomorrow. And we’re both exhausted. No good can come of this.

“I don’t wanna fight,” I say, releasing all the wind in my sails. “If you want me to go that fucking bad, I’ll go—”

“Don’t.” He closes his eyes as if my words pained him. “Don’t go.” He opens his eyes, looking right at me. Fuck, what is he looking for so intently? “I want you to stay. I want you here, Teddy. I didn’t want—that is to say, I don’t …”

I tilt my head, trying to make sense of his gibberish. “Did your internal translator just break?”

“I don’t own you,” he blurts. “Even with that ring on your finger, even with the contract signed, you are not mine. But I’m possessive, Teddy.

I’m precious about my things and about the people close to me.

I like control, and I like to feel … ordered.

But I don’t get to do that with you. I haven’t the right.

I—tonight was difficult for me,” he adds, all but stuttering over the words.

“But that’s my problem. I had no right, Teddy.

And I’m sorry. With better sleep, I think I’ll be more articulate. ”

The words are a jumble, but he’s said enough.

More than fucking enough. And now my heart is racing.

Is this … is Henrik admitting to feeling jealous ?

That’s a big emotion for him. Was he jealous tonight, thinking I was out with Colin?

Is that what set him off? Restless and anxious, he came back here alone, and his out-of-control feelings led him to have a night terror?

I should feel mortified, right? In his inability to process his own emotions, I caused a man to have a night terror. That’s mortifying.

So why am I also flattered?

Henrik feels possessive over me . Precious, he said. He wants me, wants to keep me close. Inside, I’m crowing like a damn rooster. He gave me his truth, so I give him mine. “I wasn’t out with Colin tonight.”

He blinks, registering my words. “What?”

“I didn’t go out with Colin tonight. That’s not where I was.”

A dozen fresh emotions flash across his face before he squashes them down. “Where did you go?”

“Rip’s.”

His head tips to the side. “The karaoke bar?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Check the bag.”

He glances around. “What?”

I sigh, pointing across the island. “The massive gift bag right in front of you. Open it.”

His curiosity gets the better of him, so he rustles through the tissue paper, pulls out the puffy WAG jacket, and holds it up. “What is this?”

“Another manifestation of your ownership of me.”

He glances around the jacket. “What?”

I huff, crossing my arms. “It’s a WAG jacket, Henrik.

I was forced to attend a WAG induction party tonight on pain of Caleb Price’s foot up my ass.

I showed up, they shoved me in that jacket, then Colton fucking Morrow, my literal hockey hero, hugged me and told me how proud he was that there was another queer Black man in the Rays’ Wives and Guys Club. ”

“Wives and Guys?”

“Well, they can’t still call us the ‘wives and girlfriends,’ can they? Not when four of us have big, swinging dicks.”

He turns the jacket around, reading the back. “What’s Tedrik?”

I lean against the counter with my hip. “It’s our ship name. You know, Teddy plus Henrik equals Tedrik. It’s just a silly nickname. Most of the WAGs have something like that on their jackets. Caleb’s says “CAKE” for Caleb and Jake.”

He lowers the jacket to the island, his thumbs brushing over the rhinestone-covered number seventeens on the shoulders. “You think this jacket represents ownership?”

I just shrug. “It’s a pretty big freaking deal in your world, Hen. There’s only one way to get a jacket like this: a player has to claim you. And the WAGs expect me to wear this. Maybe not all the time. But for game one, they want us in them. And for the playoffs and stuff like that.”

He drops his hands away from the jacket. “You don’t have to wear it. If anyone has anything to say about it, you send them to me. Agreed?”

I consider for a moment, arms still crossed. “And if I want to wear it? If I choose to wear my ‘if found, please return to Henrik Karlsson’ jacket?”

A ghost of a smile flits across his lips, and I have my answer. He wants me to wear it. Fuck me, in that case, I’ll never take it off. “I would respect your wishes,” he says, his tone measured. “Whatever you want, Teddy. You can have whatever you want from me.”

Someday I’m gonna replay those exact words on a loop in my mind while I jerk myself off in the shower. Not tonight, obviously. But soon.

For now, we’ve had enough of an emotional roller coaster.

Any more thrills, and I’ll be performing CPR on this overwrought Swede.

This level of emotionality is still so new for him, so raw and unfiltered.

Heck, for me it’s a boring Thursday night.

Banal, even. But for Henrik, I get the feeling this has been the equivalent of pulling some hard G’s. He needs a cooldown. And a reset.

“Come on.” I slip the container of potatoes off the counter and return them to the fridge.

“What?”

“Come with me.”

Curious, he leaves the jacket on the island and follows me down the hallway and into my bedroom. “What’s wrong?”

“Get in the bed.”

He stiffens, glancing from the bed back to me. “Teddy, we have rules. You require your own room, remember?”

“Yeah, well, I’m breaking my rule.”

“Teddy …”

“Hey, it’s mine to break. And I get whatever I want from you, remember? Your words, not mine.”

He crosses his arms. “What exactly do you want?”

“I want you close in case I have to wake you from another nightmare. And I want you further away from Karro so you don’t wake her up and scare her again.”

He groans, dragging a hand through his already-mussed hair. “I’ll go see Doctor Tyler this week. I’ll get a prescription for a sleep aid.”

“Sounds good. But that can’t help us tonight. Get in the bed, Henrik.”

Too tired to fight me, he shuffles around to the far side of the bed and crawls under the covers.

I excuse myself to the bathroom and get ready for bed, not coming out until my teeth are brushed, face is washed, locs are moisturized, and head scarf is wrapped snugly around my head.

As I come out, I strip off my T-shirt, dropping it to the floor.

Henrik is stretched out on the bed, quiet and deadly as a fucking mountain lion.

His eyes are open, those denim blue irises swallowed up by the black of his pupils as he tracks my every movement.

Even this man’s casual attention sets my every nerve on fire.

Now, feeling his possessive stare? Let’s just say I’m about to release a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

I slip under the covers on my side of the bed and roll away from him, pretending he’s not even there as I get my phone charging and take my nightly vitamins.

Then I click off the lamp and nestle into the pillows.

I wait a beat, listening for the sound of Henrik’s slow, even breathing.

I know he’s still awake. Reaching behind me, my fingers brush over the sheets until they feather lightly up his arm.

“What are you doing?” he whispers.

Wrapping my hand around his wrist, I tug him closer.

He lets himself be reeled in, closing the distance until he’s pressed as close as we were in that tiny bed in the boat hut.

“Teddy, I can’t,” he rasps, a slight catch in his voice. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Shhh.” I drape his arm around my middle, luxuriating in the feel of his bare skin pressed against mine.

He scoots in close, all but resting his head on my pillow.

“There,” I soothe, taking a deep breath and letting it out. “You can’t drown if you’re holding onto the dock. Now go to sleep. You have a game tomorrow.” I feel him relax behind me, his breath warm as it fans across the back of my neck. “God natt, Henrik.”

He shifts his hold on me, curling his arm up until it’s banded against my chest. “God natt, mitt hj?rta.”

Within minutes, he’s asleep.