Page 13 of Pucking Strong

“Yep. All good.” I stuff my hands in my pockets, rocking on the balls of my feet.

“When do you intend to return to the United States?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Like, a week from now, maybe? What was Karlsson’s answer? I’m sort of just following his lead here.”

“You’re leaving the country, and you don’t know when you’ll return?”

Fuck, I’m going to prison.

“We’re coming back in a week,” I say again. “And I swear, I don’t even have drugs or anything. And I won’t get any drugs in Stockholm,” I add, panic rising.

He just keeps staring at me. “Why would you even say that to me?”

I groan. “Look, I’m sorry—I’m just really nervous, I think.”

“Do you have reason to be nervous?”

Jesus, I didn’t know boarding this flight would require a mandatory therapy session. “Well, yeah, I mean, I guess I tend to make a lot of rash decisions. Classic Teddy, you know?”

“I don’t—”

“Well, I can’t just let a thing lie,” I say over him. “I obsess, and I fixate, and I fantasize. I drive myself fucking crazy. And then I do something that’stoobig, you know? This is one of those big things. I just have this feeling that I’m about to get on this plane and my whole life is gonna change. Do you ever have those moments, Julio? Moments when you justknoweverything is going to be different?”

He casually flips through the blank pages of my passport. “No.”

“Well, I’m having one of those moments right now. Because a week ago, I was eating a gas station chicken Caesar salad wrap on my lunch break. Now, I’m getting on rock-and-roll legend Hal Price’s private jet to help negotiate the international medical transfer of a world-famous hockey player’s injured niece. The fact that I’m head over heels in love with said hockey player is by the by, because his sister just died. Do you have any sisters, Julio?”

“No.”

“Well, I have three sisters. And if I lost one, I’d be a total fucking train wreck. So no, this isn’t about my insanely inappropriate crush, okay? This is about Karlsson and his sweet little niece. She’s lying in a hospital, alone and scared. So, can you please just sign my passport, or stamp it, or do whatever the fuck it is that you do so I can get on Hal Price’s freaking plane and—”

“Have a good flight.” He hands me back my passport. “Don’t bring back any drugs.”

I stuff my passport into the front pocket of my backpack. “I won’t. I swear to god, I’m so freaking clean.”

“Good. Hope the little girl is okay. And good luck with the insanely inappropriate crush.” With a chuckle, he steps aside, clearing the way for me to board the plane.

This fucking guy. He was winding me up on purpose. Not giving him a second to change his mind, I grab my duffel bag and launch up the stairs, taking them two at a time. I get to the top, where a flight attendant is waiting with a tray of drinks. “Good evening, Doctor O’Connor. Would you like an orange juice or a glass of champagne?”

Oh god, I can’t be trusted to put alcohol in my body right now. And the sugar in orange juice might just send me through the emergency exit. “Can I just get a water?”

“Of course,” she replies with a smile. “If you’d like to find your seat, we’ll begin our departure.”

I step onto the plane and walk through the galley. “Whoa.”

The luxe interior is all creamy leather and faux wood paneling. Soft jazz music plays through the speakers. Karlsson is seated about a third of the way back in a club chair, phone in hand, hat pulled low, hiding his eyes.

I glance around, unsure of where to sit. There’s another club chair directly across from him, but maybe he wants his space. I could sit up here at the front, but that feels a little awkward too. I don’t want him staring at the back of my head for the whole flight. I guess I could keep going to the back. Maybe there’s a bed or something. I could stretch out, get a little sleep.

The flight attendant makes the decision for me, stepping past with water on a tray. She sets the glass down on the little table next to the open club chair. “Would you like me to take your bag, Doctor O’Connor?”

“Sure.” I hand my duffel bag to her, and she makes it disappear into a bin. I take my seat. Dropping my backpack at my feet, I glance over at Karlsson. “Did you hear back from the hospital?”

“I did.”

“And Karolina?”

“They had to take her into surgery to set a bone in her leg.”

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