Page 92 of Pucking Strong

He just huffs, backing away with his hands in his pockets. “Oh, don’t thank me yet.”

“Why?”

“You haven’t met my family.”

The arena hums with the energy of a hive as 18,000 people watch the Jacksonville Rays take to the ice for the season opener game. When Henrik is announced, my sisters jump and scream, grabbing at my arms. I’m jostled as I watch him skate in a graceful arc around the defensive zone and glide behind the net, where DeGraw is busy scuffing up the ice.

Fuck me, my fake husband looks so fucking good. When he came charging into the AV room, I swear, my brain short-circuited. His sandy blond hair was swept across his brow, already wet with sweat. And he’s still doing his whole no-shaving thing, which is really fucking working for me. I never thought I was into the hairy-bear type, but my Swedish, sweater-wearing hockey man can grow that beard out as long as he wants.

“That’s his husband,” Jayla screams, pointing over my head for all the fans around us to see.

“Will youstop?” I cry, trying to pull myself free of her grasp.

“Hey, you said you’re going public tonight anyway, right?” She spins around, cupping her mouth like the crazy woman she is. “Number seventeen is my brother-in-law! They just got married!”

A few fans behind us cheer and return her offer of high fives.

“Oh my god.” I don’t dare turn around.

In the row right behind us, my niblets are all busy devouring buckets of popcorn. Poppy spared no expense, having food and drinks delivered to our seats that included hot dogs, nachos, beerfor my brothers-in-law, and wine coolers for my sisters. She even brought my mom a root beer.

My own beer sits ignored under my seat. I’m too nervous to drink tonight. Henrik is focused on the game, but I’m focused on what comes after. Poppy said the story about us will go live during the first period. The moment this game is over, Henrik has to face the press. And after the press conference, he has to meet my mother.

Honestly, I don’t know which will be worse.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my mom to the moon and back. But she’s a tough nut. And she always knows exactly how things ought to be. As a high school administrator for almost thirty years, she’s used to running things her way. Everything is about logic and orders of operation.

I smile, clapping along to the music, as Henrik skates by in a flash. They actually have a lot in common. They’re both used to managing things on their own and leading as the head of a family that relies on them for financial and emotional support. She’s the heartbeat of our family for sure, the calm center, the final opinion.

And, boy, does she have opinions about me and Henrik. She held back earlier in the press room, but I could see it on her face. Mama was calculating. My sisters didn’t get to ask too many questions because we were interrupted by a volunteer docent leading twenty VIPs in for a behind-the-scenes tour of the arena.

Whatever Mama thinks about me marrying Henrik, she’s keeping it to herself for now. Which is why Teddy won’t be touching a drop of alcohol tonight. Not until this is all over.

The lights come up as the Islanders and the Rays skate around their respective ends of the ice. Henrik skates with Lindberg, each of them taking a few shots on the empty goal while DeGraw stretches in the corner. Henrik does a few puck handling drills, bouncing the puck on his blade, before whacking it into the back of the net. Then he’s skating past us again and Shae tries waving him down.

“Henrik! Hey, Henrik!”

“Guys, stop,” I beg. “Don’t distract him—”

“Hey, KARLSSON!” Behind me, Marcus bellows so loud, it rattles my damn rib cage. “Sweden SUCKS!”

Both Henrik and Lindberg look our way.

Spinning around, I punch Marcus in the arm. “Can you not?”

He just laughs, rubbing his arm. “Hey, it got his attention, didn’t it?”

“Oh, he’s coming over,” says Jayla.

“It worked!” My niece, Winnie, squeals, jumping up and down.

“Daddy, you did it!” says her sister Desiree.

Our fan section cheers as Henrik and Lindberg skate over to the plexiglass, sliding to a stop right in front of us. Lindberg holds back a little, calling out in Swedish.

Henrik answers before turning to me.

Natalie pushes me forward. “Blow him a kiss!”

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