Page 42 of Pucking Strong

He blusters, trying to find a new excuse to flee. “The elements? What, are you expecting a hurricane tonight?”

I cross my arms. “No, but we have bears in Sweden.”

He gasps. “You said there are no polar bears in Sweden. Was that a fucking lie?”

“Brown bears. Not polar bears. And we have wolves. And many large birds of prey. And you’re on the edge of a lake, which means mosquitos. They’ll eat you alive. Shall I keep going? Do you need more reasons for staying indoors tonight?”

I watch as his expression falls. He knows he’s defeated.

Good.

Christ, how can a man who is so kind and gentle be so obstinate? So maddening?

I gesture towards the toilet. “Would you like to go first, or shall I?”

He glances over his shoulder at the closed door. Then he drops down to the edge of the bed, still clutching the quilt. “Knock yourself out.”

When I finish, I step out to find Teddy stretched out on the bed. One knee is bent, and he has an arm thrown back over his head as he scrolls on his phone. He’s stripped down to his T-shirt and a pair of formfitting boxers. His pants, his sweatshirt, and even his socks are all neatly stacked with his shoes over by the door. His blue head wrap is in place, covering his locs. He wears it every night, sometimes putting it on as soon as he gets back to the apartment.

I can feel the tension weaving itself through the long lines of his body. He doesn’t like being alone with me. Hoping to set him at ease, I clear my throat. “I spoke with Poppy St. James earlier.”

He sits up. “What? When?”

“This afternoon.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

I shrug. “You were busy looking at pictures of me dancing around a maypole.” Mom kept him laughing for two hours, telling him stories of our misadventures on holidays. She confused most of the details, but she was still all too eager to tell Teddy about the time I tried to steal a penguin from the Stockholm zoo.

His phone sits ignored as he follows my movement. “Well, what did she say? Was she mad? Oh god, am I gonna lose my job?”

Once again, I’m hit with a wave of regret. Teddy is risking everything by helping me. Not just his family’s ire or his personal reputation. As Poppy not-so-gently reminded me today, this could impact his job security. Fraternization between PTs and players is deeply frowned upon. The team had to move mountains to keep Doctor Price on staff when it came out that she was in an undisclosed relationship with our goalie. The Rays are disinclined to go through that again.

But Teddy and I have done nothing wrong. He was signed with the team for all of three hours before he dropped everything to join me here in Sweden. He never once treated me in any medical or professional capacity. If they dare try to punish him for this, I will fight. I won’t let his helping me stand in the way of his career.

“She’s going to help us,” I assure him.

“What does that mean? Help us how?”

“It means she knows what we’ve done and why, and she intends to help.” Undoing the buckle of my belt, I drop my jeans to the floor and step out of them. I fold and place them next to his neat pile of clothes. “Do you mind if I take off my shirt?”

His eyes go wide. “What?”

“I prefer fewer layers when I sleep.”

He blinks, then looks quickly away. “I … no. That’s … nope. Do your thing.”

Turning my back to him, I pull my T-shirt off, adding it to my pile of clothes. If I were being completely honest, I’d tell him I prefer to sleep fully nude. Since I’m an athlete, my metabolism is always working in overdrive, so my body runs hot. With the fire lit in here, and with sharing a bed, I’ll likely sweat through the damn sheets all night.

MaybeI’mthe one who should be sleeping out on a deck chair.

I cross over to the bed. Teddy scoots as far over as he can, wedging himself up against the wall to make room for me. I think by American measurement standards, you’d call this bed full-sized, not twin. But I’m a 6’0” professional hockey player, and Teddy also hasan athlete’s long, toned body. We’re going to be stacked together like sardines in a tin.

He grunts, shifting his weight to adjust his pillow. “There’s really no extra bedroom up at the main house?”

I sink down next to him, resting with my back against the wall, legs stretched out atop the quilt. “They converted Petra’s old room into a sewing room when she moved to the city for university. And my room was in the attic. It’s mostly storage now. They keep a child-sized bed in there for Karro.”

Our shoulders brush as we both bend our elbows, holding up our phones to scroll the internet. Tension buzzes around Teddy like a hive of bees. Meanwhile, I’m only pretending to read the stats on this Swedish hockey site. I hate that he’s still so uncomfortable around me. He didn’t seem this anxious when we were in my apartment in Stockholm. We were alone then too. We sat on the couch together, just like this. We watched TV and ate takeout curry. He stole my egg rolls. It was comfortable … or so I thought.

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