Pucking Strong (Jacksonville Rays #4)

by Emily Rath

This is for everyone who has ever been told you’re too much. That you feel too much, talk too much, need too much. No, you don’t. You’re perfect just as you are.

Six Years Ago

“Iced latte for Teddy!” Rushing forward, I claim my coffee with a hurried “thanks.” I clutch the cup in both hands like a dragon with his egg. This isn’t just an iced latte. It’s an iced oat-milk honey latte with a double shot of espresso and vanilla-sweet-cream cold foam with a drizzle of caramel on top. It’s basically an orgasm in a cup.

Slipping my phone back in my pocket, I step off the curb. Then a few things happen all at once. First, my entire life flashes before my fucking eyes as a blue pickup truck blasts through the pedestrian walkway. Slamming on his horn, the driver runs the red light, nearly turning me into mashed potatoes. I’m only saved by the second thing. A pair of strong arms wrap around my chest from behind and jerks me back just in time. “Look out,” says a gruff voice in my ear. Then I’m falling. All I see is sky as I drop back in slow motion, those firm arms locked around my chest. My perfect cup of coffee goes flying from my hand as I land on my savior. He grunts, absorbing our impact as he hits the ground first. My coffee lands next to us with a splat. I cry out as I watch it leak all over the sidewalk. “My orgasm!” The hands on me tighten as the man beneath me groans, rolling me to the side. Oh my god, I just had a near-death experience. I literally almost just died.

Before I can say another word, my breath catches in my chest. Oh my god . . . “Hey, Karlsson!” O’Sullivan calls with a wave. “Get over here. Meet the new intern.” I can hardly believe it as my sidewalk savior locks eyes with me across the gym. He recognizes me immediately. His gaze dips past my face to my new T-shirt. He’s wearing a different shirt too. He crosses the gym over to us. “Karlsson, meet the new PT intern,” says O’Sullivan. “This is—” “Teddy,” Henrik finishes for him. Then he holds out his hand. “We’ve met.”

“Call me Karlsson. Everyone does.” Dropping my hand, he breaks our cosmic connection . . . and my heart.

But still, as I watch him walk away, an aching truth settles deep in my soul: I want this man, even as I know I can never have him. This is going to be the longest fucking year of my life.

The Present

“It was a stroke of luck you finished your DPT in time. They weren’t going to let me hire you back without it.” “Totally,” I reply. I only just finished my doctorate of physical therapy degree in the spring. I always hoped to stay in the pro sports world, but the job market is tight. I snagged an hourly position assisting at a rehab hospital, where I worked with injured kids, and felt lucky to get even that. When Brady called me a week ago, asking if I could send him a reference letter, I literally cried into my lunch.

God, I’m such a liar. As if I didn’t pull up the team roster the second I got off the phone with him last week. I know exactly who’s on the team. I know who I’m dying to see. Brady leans against the silvery wall of the elevator. “You’d be surprised how many of the guys remember you. Novy’s been bugging us to hire you since you left. I told him you needed to finish your degree first, but he didn’t seem to care.” I laugh. “God, how is Novy still playing on those busted knees?” Brady snorts, leading the way out of the elevator. “Are you kidding? They’ll have to drag him off the ice and rip that stick from his hands. He’s assistant captain now, did you know?” “I bet the refs love hearing that mouth chirping at them from the bench.” “Eh, he keeps it in check for the most part. He reserves his chirping for the other team . . . and our rookies. Damn near made a kid cry last week.”

Rachel turns, waving in welcome. “Teddy, hi!” “Oh my god—” I bite back my words, but they’ve already left my mouth. I quickly school my expression, offering her a wide smile. “Look at me, calling you Teddy,” she calls down the hall. “You’re Doctor O’Connor now.” “Hey, Doctor Price.” My voice is falsely high as I lean in for a hug, trying to avoid squashing her giant belly. “It’s great to see you again. You look amazing.” She huffs, patting my back. “Seriously? I practically have my own zip code.” Oh god, she said it, not me. But yes, this woman is massively pregnant. “No, you look great,” I assure her. “You’re totally radiant.”

“That’s sweet. But we all know I look like a python that swallowed an exercise ball. It’s okay. You can be a little freaked out. It’s a lot of belly.” Well, at least she can laugh about it, right? “It might help to know there are actually two babies in here.” I gasp. “Shut up. Twins? That’s so cool. I bet the guys are thrilled.” She smiles. “Yeah. These two are due after the New Year. So, your timing is perfect. With my first two pregnancies, I worked a little longer. Heck, with Jamie, I stayed on staff right up to my due date. But carrying two has been tougher on me, and my guys are being real jerks about me following doctor’s orders. So . . .”

“Totally,” I assure them. “I’m ready to work. And I’ve really missed you guys,” I can’t help but add. “There’s something special about the Rays. It feels crazy to say it, because I was only an intern, but it sort of feels like coming home, you know?” Rachel and Brady beam at me. “We do,” she assures me. “We’re glad you’re here, Teddy.” “Once a Ray, always a Ray,” Brady adds. “Well, he’s not a Ray until he signs my paperwork,” says Vicki. “Come with me, honey. We’ll see what we can do about getting you an access pass today.”

“You too. How’s the family?” “Thriving, thanks. Emma is five. She starts kindergarten this year.” “Crazy.” He chuckles. “Right? We actually leave first thing in the morning for Aruba.” “Cool.” “Yeah, the girls are excited. Last little summer trip before the season starts, you know?” I just smile and nod. I watched his whole whirlwind romance take place six years ago. I was there playing soccer on the beach the day he first met his wife, Tess. I watched them fall in love.

“I can’t wait to see Tess again—oof—” All the air leaves my chest as someone slams into me from behind. A pair of thick arms wrap around me, squeezing me tight. I look down to see they’re covered in colorful tattoos. I grin. “Hey, Novy.” His voice is muffled, his sweaty face pressed in at my neck. “I’m so happy you’re back.”

“This is my PT. You got that, assholes? I don’t make the rules, but I will enforce them.”

“Who even is this guy?” one of the new faces asks. Novy rounds on him. “This guy? How ’bout you watch your fucking tone, Bouch. This is Doctor Teddy O’Connor. We call him Teddy of the Golden Hands, because he’s fucking magical. He gives the best damn leg massages I’ve ever had.” Langley and a few of the other older guys laugh. “I’m gonna tell Morrow you said that,” Langley teases.

My heart fucking stops when I see who is walking at his side. Dressed in a Rays tech shirt and a pair of athletic shorts, Henrik Karlsson looks every inch as beautiful as the first time I saw him. He’s fucking magnetic, with those navy-blue eyes and the soft sweep of sandy-blond hair over his brow. His beard is shorter now, little more than stubble. God, he looks so fucking good. I swallow, trying to stifle the annoying fluttering that’s currently happening in my chest. This is so embarrassing. It’s been six years. And it’s not like we were ever . . . anything. That’s the worst part about all this. We were literally nothing.

I have it on good authority that Rachel may not be coming back to work after she has those babies. If I play my cards right, this position could become permanent. It’s my literal dream job.

That can’t happen if I’m too busy torturing myself, daydreaming over a man who has never looked twice at me. A man I’m not even sure is gay. A man who likely doesn’t remember my goddamn name.

“Hey, Teddy.” He smiles that smile that only reaches his eyes. God, I haven’t seen that smile in six long years. “Good to see you again.” Well, fuck me. Apparently, the love of my life remembers my name.

“Oh, yeah . . . that’s it. That’s the fucking spot, right there. Don’t stop.” I still my thumbs on the back of Novy’s calf. “Hey, I said don’t stop—” “What was our one rule?” I say over him. He pushes up on his elbows to look at me. “Oh, come on. Those weren’t sex sounds. I was just talking.” “Yeah, in a weird, growly sex voice.” Chuckling, he flops back onto his stomach. “My sex voice isn’t weird.” “I beg to differ.”

“I told you’d I’d give you a leg massage,” I go on. “It’s my first day back, and I’m willing to be a team player. What I won’t do is go and get myself punched in the head by your jealous partner because you can’t control your smart mouth. Now, am I finishing this leg in silence? Or are you limping your old ass to the showers on those rusty, crusty joints you call knees?”

“Right. Well, I think we’re done here—” “No!” He grabs the hem of my T-shirt as I try to back away. “Come on, Doc, please. I’ll be so good for you. I won’t say another word, I swear.” I grimace. “See, it still feels like you’re talking about sex—” “Well, what can I do?” He sits up. “You wanna gag me so I can’t talk? Would that make you more comfortable?” I narrow my eyes. “You hear it, right? When you say the words, you’re hearing it?” “The seagulls on the beach can hear it,” says DeGraw.

I turn to leave and nearly crash right into Karlsson. He’s wearing nothing but a little white towel around his waist, his hair still dripping wet from the shower. His chest and arms glisten with droplets, showing off his cut muscles. As he steps around me, I get hit with a scent cloud of his body wash. Oh, fuck me, he smells so good. Like the beach on a winter morning, all windswept and fresh, with just a hint of sea salt. “Excuse me,” he says. “Yep. All good. Not a problem,” I ramble, backing away from him with my hands raised like he’s walking poison ivy.

Unlike most of these hockey guys, he has no ink. Not even the Olympic rings. And he played for Sweden in the last Winter Olympics. They took home the silver medal. I might have watched a few games. Or every game.

Before I can respond, a bone-chilling cry nearly has me dropping the last stack of towels. I search for the source of the sound, and my gaze locks on Karlsson across the locker room. The other guys quickly take notice too. There’s a flurry of confusion as someone mutes the rock music. “Karlsson?” “Fuck, what happened, bud?” He lets out a wail that pierces my very soul. His expression crumbles as the phone drops from his hand, clattering to the floor. Then he falls forward off the bench, catching himself on the floor with his hands, shoulders wracked with sobs. Fumbling the towels into the laundry cart, I cross the room to his side. “Henrik, what happened?” Paulie asks again. “You sick, man?” “You hurt?” “Everyone, get back,” I shout, dropping to my knees.

I place a hand on Karlsson’s shoulder. “Hey, can you tell me what happened?” He lets out a grief-stricken cry and a string of words in Swedish I can’t understand. Then his arms are around me, face pressed to my shoulder. All I can do is hold him, my hands splayed across the warm skin of his back.

The new forward—I think his name might be Tremblay—picks up Karlsson’s phone. “Hey, he was listening to a voicemail,” he announces to the room. He holds the phone up to his ear. After a moment, he frowns. “The guy’s talking in Swedish. I can’t understand him.” There’s a flurry of talk before a tall blond steps up, holding out his hand. “Give it to me.”

“Well?” Caleb presses. “What happened?” Lindberg locks eyes with me. I already know the news is bad. Feeling protective of Karlsson, I splay my hands wider across him as I try to cover him. But I can’t keep him safe from this. The damage is already done. All we can do now is try to help him pick up the pieces. “The voicemail is from a hospital in Stockholm,”

“There was a car accident last night. His niece is in critical condition.” “Oh, shit,” someone mutters. “Fuck, man. I hope she’s okay,” says another. But I’m still looking at Lindberg, studying the somber expression on his face. “There’s more.” He looks from Karlsson to me. Then he nods. “Just say it,” I murmur. Lindberg holds my gaze, tears rimming his eyes. “His sister is dead.”

I feel numb. Nothing feels real. Not the chair I’m sitting in. Not the glass of water someone put in my hand. Not the man sitting across the desk from me. His mouth is moving. He’s speaking words in a language I know, but I can’t will myself to care. Petra is dead. My only sister. My dearest friend.

No, inexplicably, it’s Teddy O’Connor who sits next to me, his face full of concern. I’ve always held a fondness for Teddy, ever since our curious meeting at the crosswalk all those years ago. It was a surprise when he showed up in our gym this morning, still so nervous and tongue-tied. He’s tall and lean. His fair brown skin is dusted with freckles over his cheeks and nose. More than his kind smile, I’ve always noted his hair. He wears it in long, thin locs. At the moment, a spray of end pieces sticks out from the large knot, like the feathers of a bird’s crown. His hair is bold and extravagant, so at odds with his generally meek demeanor. And yet, it fits him. I get the feeling he only acts meek and tongue-tied around me. I’ve seen him with the others. He laughs and jokes. Few people can put Lukas Novikov in his place, but Teddy does.

“Karlsson, what do you need from us?” “I have to go to Sweden.” Arjan Singh, the team’s services manager, stands by the desk, brow furrowed with worry. “We can get you on a flight tomorrow.” “But we’re less than two weeks out from the start of training camp,” says Weiss. “Will you need a leave of absence to deal with this, Karlsson?” I just stare at the glass of water in my hand. “Karlsson?” “I don’t know, sir.” “Lindberg said his niece is still in critical condition,” Teddy explains. He turns to me, those hazel eyes full of such worry. “How old is she?” I swallow, feeling numb. “Five.” Every face in the room falls.

“Will anyone be there with her?” asks Teddy. “Her father, maybe? Can you meet him at the hospital? Or what about grandparents?” “No father,” I reply. “And my parents are elderly and in poor health. It’s difficult for Mom to travel.” I stand from my chair, setting the glass of water untouched on the desk. “It has to be me. There are arrangements to be made for my niece.” Jake searches my face. “Are you her guardian now? Will you bring her back with you?”

“I must contact the hospital first to better understand her injuries. If she can’t travel, that will complicate matters. But, yes, I’m all she has left.” Tears in his eyes, he gives a curt nod. “Then she needs to be here. Go get her, Henrik.” Doctor Price takes my hand in both of hers. “Let me send you over on my family’s plane. That way, even if she’s injured, so long as she’s stable enough to fly, you can bring her home.” Jake nods again. “That’s a great idea, babe. Go call Hal.” “I couldn’t ask that of you—” “I’m offering,” she says over me. “I’ll go call my dad right now. We can have the plane here by tonight. You’ll be in Stockholm by tomorrow morning.” “It’s a good plan,” says Singh. “And it’s generous of you, Rachel.”

“Is there no one we can send along with him?” says Jake. Weiss shakes his head. “Not ten days out from the start of training camp.” This upsets Jake and the three men argue, all talking over each other about schedules and priorities until a new voice enters the fray. “Hey, send me.” We all turn to look at Teddy. “What did you say?” asks Weiss. Teddy shifts nervously in his chair. “Uhh . . . yeah. Well, I was just gonna say that I haven’t technically started yet, right? I mean, I filled out my paperwork, and I gave Novy half a leg massage today. I’m covering for Rachel when she goes on leave.” He turns to Jake. “Do you think she’d be cool staying on for one more week if I go help Karlsson?” “She’d be totally cool with it,” Jake replies,

“I’ve got the qualifications. Injury rehabilitation is my jam. And I’ve worked with kids before. A lot, actually.” His smile falls as he holds my gaze. “I can help, Karlsson . . . if you’ll have me.”

“Perfect,” says Jake. “It’s settled.” At that moment, Rachel steps back into the room. “What’s settled?” “Teddy is going with Henrik to Sweden. And you’re covering for him until they get back.” She sighs. “Oh, that’s perfect. I hated the thought of you going alone, Karlsson. Teddy, you’re a treasure.” “It’s nothing.” Standing, I turn and offer him my hand. “It’s not nothing to me. I’ll not forget this kindness, Teddy.”

What the hell am I doing? Oh god, I need to have my head examined. I signed a contract for my dream job today, and then two seconds later I threw myself at the world’s most unobtainable man. Now, instead of getting ready for a busy week at my new job, I’m standing on the tarmac at the Jacksonville airport, staring up at Hal Price’s private jet. I watch as Karlsson scales the steps ahead of me. After shaking hands with the flight attendant, he ducks inside the plane.

“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’s too big, 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 just know everything is going to be different?”

“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.” “Shit. Well, did they say what happened yet?” “From what the police have gathered, their car was hit from the side,” he explains. “It was a young driver. Apparently, he walked away without a scratch. Meanwhile, Karolina has crush injuries to her left side. And my sister—” He bites back the words, tugging the bill of his hat lower. He doesn’t want to say it, and I won’t make him say it. When he’s ready, maybe someday we can talk about her. “But Karolina . . . they think she’ll make a full recovery?” He nods. “Karlsson, that’s good. Broken bones suck. There’s no way around that. But broken bones heal. Just means she gets to spend a couple months being pampered with ice cream and movie marathons. I bet she’ll be back on her feet in no time.”

“Teddy, before we go, I just . . . I want to thank you again.” “Hey, don’t even worry about it—” “No, I want to.” His navy-blue eyes look so forlorn. “I’m not always good at expressing myself. And I know you haven’t always been comfortable around me . . .” Shit. Does he know? Has he known all this time? Oh god, this is so fucking embarrassing. My mind races as I try to think of what to say. “Karlsson, look—” “You don’t have to bother denying it,” he goes on. “It’s plain to see how uncomfortable I make you. I’m not the easiest person to talk to . . . or work with. But I will endeavor to do better. Just know this is a difficult time for me, so if I struggle to perform the niceties of social interactions—”

“You don’t owe me an explanation. And you sure as hell don’t owe me any kind of apology. There’s nothing wrong with you, Karlsson. I’m weird because I’m weird, not because you’re weird. You’re perfect, okay? You just be you, and I’ll be me, and we’ll just be weird and awkward together. Sound good?”

“So, tell me about Sweden. Do you think we’ll see any polar bears?” He chuckles and my chest puffs with pride. I did that. I distracted him and put that smile on his face. See? I’m helping already. “No, we won’t see any polar bears in Stockholm.” I grin, leaning over in my seat. “But, I mean, never say never, right? There are polar bears in Sweden, right?” “Not since the last ice age.” “That actually makes me kinda sad.” He’s quiet for a moment, his lips pursed as he considers. “Yeah. Me too.”

Suddenly, Teddy’s hand is at my shoulder, his voice soft. “Hey, you okay? You need a minute?” I blink, glancing around. I didn’t even realize I’d stopped walking. We’re standing in the middle of the hallway, still feet away from the reception desk. “Good morning,” the receptionist chimes in Swedish. “Welcome to Saint Ingegerd Hospital. How can I help direct you this morning?” Shrugging away from Teddy, I step forward. “I’m here to see a patient. Karolina Karlsson. I was told she’s in the pediatric trauma center.”

I don’t know the full extent of her injuries either. Fractured ulna, the doctor said. It was cracked but not misaligned. She’ll need to wear a cast on her arm for four to six weeks. Three cracked ribs, hairline only. The most worrisome injury is the fractures to her leg. They required surgery yesterday. Oblique displacement, it’s called. The surgery realigned the bones, and they secured it all with a metal plate and screws. She’ll have to wear a cast on the leg for up to eight weeks and not bear weight on it as it heals. A broken arm and a broken leg. And no mother. My poor, sweet little lamb.

“Come on,” says Teddy, gently guiding me out. “You can do this.”

“The reception desk alerted us that you were on the way. Karolina will be so pleased to see you. She’s been asking for you.” I breathe a sigh of relief. “She’s awake?” “Not at the moment. We gave her some medication for pain management about thirty minutes ago. It tends to make children drowsy. But you’re welcome to go in and sit with her, even if she’s asleep.” Teddy glances between us, trying to make sense of our Swedish. “Thank you,” I say in English. “We alerted her doctor that you’re here,” he adds, switching to English. “She’s with patients now, but she said she can stop by and speak to you in about an hour.”

My eyes lock on the fuzzy pink sock on her foot. That’s when I break. “Oh, Christ—” I catch the words, along with my sob. Covering my mouth with my hand, I turn away, tears burning in my eyes. I try to push past Teddy, but he grabs me by the shoulders. “Hey—no. Come on, man, you have to stay.” “I can’t,” I say on a gasping breath. “Can’t see her like this—” “You have to. Hey—Karlsson, she’s alive.” I shake my head, overcome with grief and fear. I can’t lose her too. I won’t survive it. God help me, I can’t— “Look at me.” He cups my face. “Karlsson, look at me.” I lift my gaze. Teddy’s expression is so calm. Despite all the times I thought he was meek and nervous, in this moment, he’s in control. His eyes flash as he holds fast to me. They’re green only at the edges, shifting to an almost golden brown at the center. “She’s alive,” he assures me. “Say it.” “She’s alive.” He nods. “That’s good. Just take a breath and slow down. Say it again.”