Page 36 of Pucking Strong

He steps forward, his eyes flashing with anger. “It’snotout of the question.”

“You’re already sacrificing too much for me. I can’t allow it—”

“Henrik, I need walls! Barriers that help reinforce what this is between us. My salary is shit, but I can contribute my fair share. And I will. Please, give me this.”

It will cost me my pride to accept money from this man. But what is my pride worth if it gets me Karro safe and living in my home? “Fine. Anything else?”

Teddy holds my gaze. The wind whips at his loose locs, tugging a few in front of his face. He flicks them back with a curl of his finger, tucking them behind his ear. “Don’t kiss me.”

As he speaks, a large lorry whooshes past. I’m unsure I heard him right. “What?”

“I said, don’t kiss me,” he repeats.

I groan, dragging a hand through my hair. Does he really feel like such a rule is necessary? What must he think of me? What must he expect? “Trust me, I won’t,” I assure him.

His face falls, and I know I misspoke.

“That is to say, I don’t,” I add, knowing it’s not enough of an explanation. He admitted to once having romantic feelings for me. I certainly don’t want to embarrass him or hurt his feelings. But how do I make him understand the nature of what I am, when I don’t rightly know myself? “Look, Teddy. I’m not …”

“Gay?”

“Looking for a relationship. With anyone. It’s just not how I am. I’m focused on my career. And now Karro. With your new job duties, I doubt you’ll find much time for romance either.”

He shrugs. “Oh, there’s always time for a little romance. Life is short, Henrik. I intend to live mine to the fullest.”

At his words, flashes of a memory come unbidden to my mind—Teddy with his arms wrapped around a blond rookie. The rookie’s hands on Teddy’s ass, pressing him up against the sink. Their gasps of surprise at being interrupted. The glass soap dispenser shattering as it slips to the floor, knocked askew by the rookie’s roving hands.

Pushing the memory away, I fight a scowl. I’m all too familiarwith Teddy’s willingness to live his life to the fullest. I can only pray he heeds my wishes and keeps those activities private. I’m not one to judge another’s actions, but I have Karro to think about now. Her safety and comfort must come first. Always.

“We can’t stay out here,” I call over the noise of another passing truck. “It’s dangerous. Are you finished making your demands?”

Teddy leans away, surprised by my sudden change in tone. I’ve surprised myself. Why do I feel so frustrated? So angry? He’s only trying to help me. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good. Then let’s go. I want to be back in the city before dark.” Turning on my heel, I lead the way back over to the rental car. Teddy follows.

As we get in the car, he shuts his door and looks my way. “I thought of one more thing.”

“What?”

Our elbows brush as we buckle our seat belts. Then he grabs his sunglasses and slips them back on his face, hiding his eyes away from me. “Seeing as you’re the international hockey superstar and I’m just a lowly PT,youget to tell Poppy St. James what we did.”

I stare out the windshield, hands gripped tight to the wheel. “Fuck.”

He snorts a laugh. “Right?”

We really didnotthink this through.

Dad is waiting on the front porch of the house when Teddy and I pull up. He rises from his rocking chair, waving to us in welcome. Gripping tight to the porch railing, he makes his way down the front steps, clearly favoring his good knee.

My parents were in their forties by the time they had my sister and me, meaning they’re now in their seventies. I’ve tried to move them out of this house for years, but they won’t hear of it. As Dad’s mobility declines and Mom’s health worsens, I worry we may reach a point where the decision is no longer theirs.

For now, I have helpers from town who deliver groceries, manage the lawn, and shovel the snow in winter. Mom still keeps a garden, and Dad tinkers with his boat. It’s a small life, but they need nothing else.

“It looks nice,” Teddy says, peering through the windshield at the house.

It sits perched at the top of a hill, which slopes down to a small lake. The ocean is only a short bike ride away. In the summertime, Petra and I discovered every path between here and the beach, often racing to find out which was the fastest.

I take in the house’s red-sided walls and the steep, shingled roof. A few years ago, Petra converted the little boat shed down by the lake into an apartment. That’s usually where I stay when I come to visit in the offseason. I would stay tonight, but I don’t want to make Teddy uncomfortable. At least in the city, he can have his own bed, even if it’s just my couch.

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