Pucking Strong (Jacksonville Rays #4)

by Emily Rath

“I can’t remember.” My irritation rises. “You’re lying to me. What did I say about lying?” He groans, turning away. “Look, it’s late. And I’ve still gotta call an Uber.” My annoyance pops like a balloon. “Wait—you’re leaving?” “Well, yeah.” I follow him, my heart suddenly racing. “Teddy, it’s late. We’ve been traveling all day. Where are you going?” “My hotel.” He ducks behind the side of the couch, grabbing his blue duffel and backpack off the floor. Alcohol and fatigue are making my brain feel foggy. “Why would you go to a hotel?”

“So then why are you leaving?” “Because look around.” He waves with his free hand. “Do you see any of my stuff here? It’s all over at the hotel. I gotta go get it and bring it here.” “I still don’t see why you need to do that tonight. You’re tired, Teddy. We both are. Surely it can wait until morning.” He shifts his weight, not looking at me. I step in closer. “What’s wrong?” “I’m out of clean clothes, remember? We couldn’t do laundry because we were traveling, so I’ve got nothing to wear. Come on, it’s no big deal,”

“Anyway, I’m sure you’re dying to get me out of your hair, right? Don’t think I didn’t see you climbing the walls all night having strangers in your crib. I’d take it back if I could but . . . well, it’s too late now,” he finishes under his breath. I don’t even realize that I’ve followed him to the door. “Teddy . . .” “Really, it’s okay. You’re a private person, and that’s totally cool. If I felt more sober, I’d just drive myself over there. But an Uber works too. Why don’t you shoot me a text in the morning, or whenever, and we’ll make a plan from there? I’ll only come back when you’re ready. That cool?” He goes to open the door. He gets as far as turning the knob and pulling it in an inch. Then I’m right behind him. Reaching over his shoulder, I push the door shut. “Stay.”

“Stay,” I say again. “You’re tired, and I think you’re a little drunk. I’d feel better if you stayed.” “I need my stuff. Henrik, I gotta change my clothes.” “I have everything you need here. Please. What’s mine is yours, you know that.” He should know it. He’s standing here now in my sweater and jeans, a spritz of my cologne at his neck. He groans, pressing his forehead to the door. “Will you stop being so damn polite? I know you want me out, okay?” Christ, is that what this is about? I drop my left hand down from the door and place it on his right shoulder. “Look at me, Teddy.” He lets himself be turned, back pressed against the door. “What do you want from me, huh?” His green eyes are narrowed, jaw tight. His stance is almost defiant. I know what he’s doing. He gave it away with his little speech. This isn’t about needing clean clothes. He had no problem hunting through my “fly as fuck” closet back in Stockholm. He’s running from me because I made him think I don’t want him here.

I press in as he turns, pinning him to the door. He drops his bags, both hands going to the door as he pushes back with his hips. “Henrik—fuck—” “I want you here.” He groans. “Come on, man, don’t.” “Fuck the others. Having them all here was admittedly very difficult for me. Because you’re right—I’m a private person. I don’t like sharing my spaces with anyone.” “So then let me leave,” he says, his tone almost pleading. I drop both hands down to his shoulders. “Not until you understand the difference.” “What difference?” “You are not anyone to me,” I pant. “Not anymore.” The fight goes out of him as he presses himself to the door. “Then what am I?”

“You’re someone. You’re my someone. And I want to take care of you. Please, Teddy—you’ve been taking care of me so well for weeks now. Let me return the favor. Don’t drive off in the dark to go sit alone in an empty hotel room. Stay. Stay here with me and let me take care of you for a change.”

“Come.” “What are you gonna do?” “Just come with me.” He places his hand in mine, and I lead him down the length of the apartment, back towards the kitchen. Cutting left, we take the second hall that splits between the laundry and hall bathroom on one side and my bedroom suite on the other. Teddy’s feet shuffle as he walks behind me. “Henrik, seriously, what are you doing?” “Showing you my favorite room in the house.” “I swear to god, if you have a red room back here . . .” “What’s a red room?” He snorts.

One wall is full glass that I can fog over with the touch of a button. It offers the best view of the sunset over the river. Teddy looks around, his gaze landing on the bed. “Henrik . . .” “Come,” I say again, leading him through into the bathroom. “Whoa.” He stops in the doorway and looks around. The bathroom is almost as large as the bedroom.

We discovered back in Stockholm that we wear the same size in everything but pants, even down to shoes.

“Henrik . . .” I walk back over to the tub and turn on the hot water tap. His eyes go wide. “What are you doing?” Reaching under the sink, I pull out a fluffy white towel. “I’m drawing you a bath.” “What?” “I’m drawing you a bath,” I repeat. “Why?” “Because you’re exhausted. You’ve pushed yourself to the limit these last two weeks. You deserve to take a rest. Please, allow me this.”

By the time I return with his frothy beer in a cold glass, the water is off, Teddy is in the tub, and music is softly playing over the speakers. I recognize the artist. It’s Norah Jones. I think I have one of her records back at my loft. Teddy has his locs pulled up, piled high on his head in a messy bun. As I watch from the doorway, he sits forward in the tub with a tired groan, rolling both his shoulders until they crack. Then he sinks back, water sloshing. I knock on the half-open door, making him jolt. “Uhh . . . come in,” he calls over his shoulder. “I thought you must have fallen asleep out on the couch or something.” “I was just giving you some privacy.” One of his dark brows arches. “Privacy in your room? In your tub?” “It’s your room now,” I remind him. “Henrik, come on. You have to let up on your stupid rule. This bathroom is great but let me stay in the guest room. Honestly, I’ll be fine in there.”

“Are you going to lift any of your rules?” At this challenge, he stiffens, not daring to look at me. “No,” he says in a soft voice. “Then the room is yours. And here.” I offer him the glass of beer. Reaching an arm out over the deep side of the tub, he takes it. The tub blocks all but his head and shoulders from my view. “Thanks.” “How’s the tub?” He groans again, sinking back into the steaming hot water. “So fucking good. I can’t remember the last time I got neck deep in a tub that wasn’t a gross hotel hot tub. I like knowing no kid in shark floaties has peed in here recently.”

“You have to stop feeling so bad about all this.” “What?” “You have to stop,” he says again. “Stop feeling so sad and guilty, and like you’ve trapped me here against my will. It makes me feel like we’re doing something wrong. And this isn’t wrong . . . right?” He looks up at me. His cheeks and brow sheened from the steam of the bath. “No,” I reply. “This isn’t wrong.” He offers me a smile,

“Hey, Henrik?” I perk up. “Yeah?” “You gonna stand there all night and watch me sit here naked in your tub?” Warmth rises in my cheeks as I quickly turn away. “No, of course not. I—good night, Teddy.” “I mean, you can,” he teases. “It’s still your house, right?” “I said no.” “Pull up a chair. Hey, do you have any shark floaties I can borrow?” “Good night, Teddy,” I say more forcefully, shutting the door as I leave.

“Morbror?” The baby monitor on my bedside table crackles, waking me up. A soft voice echoes around my room. “Morbror? Jag behöver hjälp.” I sit up, rubbing my face. Oh fuck. Realizing where I am and why, I lunge for the monitor. Karro’s awake. Poor thing is probably as jet-lagged as we are. I don’t know what she’s saying in Swedish, but I imagine it likely has something to do with using the bathroom.

Ducking down the hall, I stop in her doorway to see Henrik already in her room. He’s crouching down beside her bed. They talk softly in Swedish. He pets her messy blonde hair as he helps her sit up. “Hey,” I say, stepping into the room. “Need any help?” “I think we’re fine.” Henrik shifts her to the side of the bed. He uses the technique I taught him in Sweden to keep her ribs from twisting. Then he’s helping her shimmy up her nightdress and positioning the bed pan for her. “I can help you get her to the bathroom,” I offer. “Less chance of a mess.” “I have this,” he replies. “Thank you, Teddy.” Feeling dismissed, I step out of the room and make my way back to the kitchen. Determined to do something helpful, I start on breakfast.

“What are you doing?” he asks, heading for the coffee maker. “Making us breakfast. You want two eggs or three?” “I already ate.” I peer around at the spotless kitchen. “When?” “I’ve been up since five,” he replies. “In truth, I never really slept.” I wiggle the eggs a little with the spatula, unsticking them from the bottom of the pan. “More nightmares?” He just shrugs, clicking on the coffee maker. “How’s our girl doing?” He rustles around in the cabinet above the coffee maker. “She says her leg is hurting her more today than yesterday. Is that normal?”

How many eggs will she eat?” “None.” “What?” “She doesn’t like eggs.” I look down at the eggs frying in the pan. “Well, I guess these are all for me then.” “Sorry, I should have told you.” “It’s no problem.” Using the spatula, I scrape the fried eggs onto a plate. “Maybe we should make a list of foods she does like to eat, just so I know for the future.”

“I really can help, you know. That’s why I’m here, remember? You don’t have to do this all alone.” He smiles, but it doesn’t touch his eyes. “Karro is my responsibility, Teddy.” “And I totally respect that. You get final say in all matters Karro. I’m just saying you’re not alone in caring for her. I’m here. So, you know, put me in, Coach.” His smile has a little more warmth now. “I appreciate that.”

“Hanna Nilsson comes this morning,” he replies. “She should be here in thirty minutes.” “Hanna Nilsson?” “She’s a registered nurse, licensed for in-home care. She’s coming to interview for the position of Karolina’s temporary caretaker.” I blink. “Oh. Well, did you need me to look over her résumé or anything? I can vet her qualifications for you.” “Already done. She came highly recommended by my agent. I had Laura run a search and collect names and résumés. Same for Karolina’s in-home tutor. I’ll meet with her on Tuesday.”

Of course she does. And I bet birds help her wrap bandages while squirrels administer medications.

Once Hanna enters Karro’s room and I hear the way Hanna exclaims with delight, I know it’s all over for me. The world’s most perfect Swedish nanny is about to swoop in and steal my fake family right out from under me.

“What the hell was that?” “What?” I feign ignorance as I rise off the couch. “You had no right to question her like that, Teddy. She was here as my guest. And why were you so rude?” Dropping all pretense, I flap my arms. “I’m sorry, I guess I just find it hard to believe that you would trust your sports agent to vet an in-home nursing candidate more than me, the literal doctor of physical therapy.” “Laura has been with me for seven years!” “Yeah, and loyalty to the Karlsson brand means fucking nothing when it comes to providing medical care to an injured child!” He reels back. “You don’t trust Hanna to care for Karolina?” “I don’t know! I haven’t seen her résumé. All I know is that she speaks Swedish and runs in circles around EPCOT.”

“Henrik, doing your best doesn’t always mean doing it all on your own. When it comes to caring for another person, if you’re out of your depth, doing your best means relying on the reasoned opinions of experts. I mean, do you trust your sports agent to do your taxes?” He sighs. “No.” “Do you trust your sports agent to examine your prostate?” “No, Teddy.” “Then why would you trust your sports agent to select Karro’s caretaker over me?”

“Well, if you liked Hanna, then what’s the problem?” he all but shouts. “My problem is you pushing me aside! You did it this morning with Karro’s toileting care. You did it at breakfast. You did it again by not including me in Hanna’s selection, not even asking my opinion. I mean, we’ve been together every hour of every day for the last two weeks. When did you even get résumés? When did you review them? On the plane? When I was sitting right next to you?” He dares to shrug, tucking his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t want to bother you.” “Well, fuck, Henrik. Next time, bother me! All I was doing was watching reruns of Charmed on my iPad. Karolina’s care is a little more important than finding out if Cole and Phoebe will ever find their way back to each other!”

For as long as I’m here, I’m the first thought. Not the afterthought. Agreed?” After a moment of deliberation, he nods. “I accept those terms. And I’m sorry, Teddy. Truly.” “Well . . . good. Then I accept your apology.”

“Oh—” Poppy takes a sip of her iced latte before setting it aside. “I’m so glad you asked.” Reaching for the bag, she pulls out the tissue with a flourish. “Now, we can get these resized if needed, but I hope they’ll do the trick.” She pulls out two black ring boxes. “One for you,” she sings at Henrik. “And one for you, Teddy, honey.” I feel like a robot as I mechanically reach out my hand and take the box from her. Henrik opens his box and pulls out a shiny gold wedding band. “Is this really necessary?” “It’s customary for married couples to wear rings as proof of their status,” Poppy replies. “Even in Sweden—and yes, I checked. In your case, it really is a PR necessity.”

Henrik turns to me, ring lying flat in his palm. “Is this acceptable to you? I don’t want to break any rules . . .” He’s right. We have a lot of rules in this fake marriage. There’s the “no saying husband” rule. And the “no kissing” rule. Then there’s the “I pay him rent” rule. We haven’t actually discussed the terms of that one yet. His “I sleep in his room” rule is working out great for me so far. But we don’t have a “no wedding rings” rule. Not technically. I just told him I wouldn’t wear his mother’s cursed ring. “No, it’s fine,” I say. But then I hesitate, glancing his way. “Are you fine?” With a nod, he slips the ring on his left hand,

“Oh, and Teddy—” Poppy turns to me. “We’re gonna have you attend the opening night home game. That way we can get some shots of you with Henrik out on the ice. You know, the whole ‘cheering for your man’ angle.” I’m on autopilot as I stand. “Well, it sounds like you’ve got it all figured out. Just tell me where to stand and smile for the cameras.” Henrik rises next to me, still looking at me warily. “Don’t worry.” Poppy walks us to the door. “I have everything under control. Give me a couple weeks to work my magic, and we’ll make this all go away. Then we can all get back to hockey as usual.”

“I can’t fly to New York right now to shoot an ad campaign. My niece needs me here. The season is about to start, so I’ll already be traveling. Christ, I haven’t even secured her a teacher yet. I just—I need you to ask them for an extension. Four months. Surely, they can extend my contract and film within four months?”

I just don’t know what to do. Everything feels so impossible. I couldn’t keep Petra from getting hit by a drunk driver. I can’t mend Karro’s broken bones. I can’t keep my father from climbing ladders. Can’t hire a teacher. Can’t fulfill my contractual commitments to my sponsors. I can barely get my damn key in the door! After fumbling with the lock, I push the door open, all the while juggling the heavy bags of groceries. Teddy sits up. “Hey, Morbror’s home. Wanna see what we did today?” “Morbror, look,” Karolina calls. Hanging my keys on the hook by the door, I take in their smiling faces. Karolina is sitting on the sofa, surrounded by art supplies. Scraps of paper and every color of crayon and pencil lie scattered all over the coffee table.

“What are you saying about me?” Teddy teases in English. Karro goes stiff, eyes wide, looking like she’s just been caught sneaking cookies from the jar. “I’m hearing my name. What did we say about speaking Swedish when Uncle Teddy is in the room?” She giggles. “I won’t say it!” “What’s the rule?” he challenges. “If you speak Swedish and Uncle Teddy hears his name, you have to say it.” “No,” she squeals, trying to hide under her blanket. “Say it!” “No,” she says through a muffled laugh. “Say it, or I’m eating all the ice cream!” Slowly, she peels down the corner of her blanket, still giggling. Her face is bright pink, eyes alight, as she glances from me back to Teddy. Finally, she opens her mouth and gasps out in English, “I’m a Swedish meatball!”

“Okay, now tell me. What the hell happened?” I just shake my head. I feel like a dam, holding back the worries of the world. God, and if I break? He sighs. “Henrik, I can’t help if you won’t tell me.” “I’m failing,” I say on a breath. “Teddy, I can’t—can’t do this. It’s too much.” “What’s too much?” He steps closer. “Talk to me. Let me help you.” I close my eyes tight. “I’m trying. Christ, Teddy, I don’t know what else to do.” “Well maybe I do know what to do. Tell me what’s wrong. Let me try to help.” I take a deep breath, and let it out. Then I open my eyes, letting the kindness in his expression anchor me. “My dad fell off a ladder today.” His eyes go wide. “Oh shit. Well, is he okay? And your mom?” “She was shaken up, but she’s okay. And it was just a sprain. Their neighbor called and woke me at four in the morning to tell me.” “Jesus,” he mutters. “Why didn’t you tell me this morning?” “Teddy, I don’t know what else to do. They won’t go to a care home, and they won’t let me hire in help.”

Henrik closes the door and turns, leaning against it. His whole body relaxes as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Meanwhile, my chest fills with warmth. I did this. We had a problem, and I fixed it. I helped. Henrik let me help.

I place a hand on his shoulder before he steps out the door. He glances back at me. “You’re doing everything right, and everything is fine. You got this, Henrik.” His smile almost reaches his eyes this time. “Thank you, Teddy.”

“Morbror can’t braid.” “Well, we’ll fix that immediately. Hey, wanna play beauty parlor with me? I can wash and condition your hair, dry it, and put it in French braids. Sound fun? My little nieces love playing beauty parlor.” Her eyes are alight, but her smile falls a little. I sit up, cutting off the end credits of The Swan Princess with a click of the remote. “Honey, what’s wrong?” Her lower lip trembles. “Mamma did my hair.” Her words pierce right through my heart. I brush my hand over her messy hair again. “Oh, honey, I bet it was so pretty. I bet she was really good at it too. Wasn’t she?” Karro nods. I clear my throat, setting the remote aside. “Well, I know I’m no replacement for your mamma, but I’m good at hair too. My sisters and nieces can provide strong references. If you’ll let me, I’d like to do yours. Would that be okay?” Her bottom lip keeps trembling as her blue eyes fill with tears. “Jag saknar Mamma.” I lean down, kissing the top of her head. “Can you translate for me?” She sniffles, pulling Teddy the Bear onto her lap with her casted hand. “I miss Mamma.”

“I don’t have a picture of Mamma.” Fuck, this girl is breaking me. “Don’t you even worry. I’m gonna fix that first thing in the morning. Morbror Henrik’s gonna get us a picture, and I’m gonna put it in a pretty frame that we can set right on your bedside table. Would that be okay? I think we should put one in the living room too.” She nods. “And I think there should be pictures of you with Morbror. Wouldn’t that be nice?” “And with you.” The realness of this moment rocks me to my fucking core. In Sweden, Elin warned us what accepting custody of Karro would mean. But until now, I hadn’t fully considered the ramifications of inserting myself into her life. She doesn’t know this is all supposed to be temporary. All she knows is that her mother died. Then suddenly I appeared at her uncle’s side, ready to help them both pick up the pieces. Her trust in me is already steadfast, because her trust in Henrik is steadfast. Holding her in this moment, crying with her, I know that no matter what happens between me and Henrik, I want to stay in Karro’s life. I need to stay. Rejection is too cruel. Kids don’t recover. Could I do that to Karolina? Could I swoop in on a rock star’s airplane, rip her from her life, promise her my love and attention, and then just walk away? Fuck, I feel sick even thinking it.

At Teddy’s insistence, we moved the exercise bike out of my bedroom and into the living room. Honestly, I prefer it this way. Now I start each morning watching the sun rise over the river as I bike, stretching out my calves and regulating my circulatory system. He thinks I haven’t noticed the other changes he’s making, but I do. How am I supposed to ignore new bookshelves? Just last night, I signed for a trio of boxes that arrived from a home goods store. Do I know why we needed a fruit bowl or a decorative wooden tray? No. And I’m not going to ask. If it makes him happy, Teddy can buy whatever he wants.

“Are you ready, Mr. Karlsson?” The ESPN producer leans in, smiling in my face. All thoughts of this morning’s drills flash from my mind as I look up. “Yes.” They’ve been rearranging the lights for the last ten minutes. All the while, Teddy and I have sat side by side on this leather sofa, silently waiting. He’s wearing my favorite cable-knit sweater again. His hair is down, framing his face. They put a powder on his cheeks that dulls some of his freckles. I don’t like it.

Just last night, he charged into the bathroom while I was neck deep in the tub, shouting, “What if they ask if we kissed at the wedding? Do I lie? Oh, this is so fucking fucked!”

Poppy set this all up in one of the corner offices at the practice arena. Behind us, there’s a great view of downtown. It’s golden hour, and the lighting is perfect. We need to do this quickly, before the light changes. I glance over at Teddy. He keeps tugging at the neck of my sweater. And his new nervous tic is spinning the ring on his finger. I glance down at my own ring. It’s a simple band of yellow gold. Since I put it on, I’ve hardly noticed it. I have to take it off during practice, but slipping it back on before I shower already feels like a habit. For Teddy, it’s apparently a distraction, an itch he can’t help but scratch.

Reaching over, I take his hand, weaving our fingers together. He relaxes a little, scooting closer to me. Behind the row of cameras, Poppy stands watch, giving us both a nod of encouragement. If Janine tries to do anything fishy, Poppy will go full Godzilla and knock over the cameras to help us save face.

My years of media training click on as I smile too. “And you, Janine. Thanks for having me.” “Oh, it’s my pleasure. I’d like to add that we’re actually not alone for this interview, are we?” She smiles warmly at Teddy. If he were ever going to run, now would be the moment. He didn’t ask for any of this. But he sits still, hand clasped in mine, waiting for me to speak. Clearing my throat, I squeeze his hand. “Yes, this is Doctor Teddy O’Connor. He’s the assistant rehabilitation therapist for the Jacksonville Rays . . . and he’s my partner.” “Oh my goodness.” Janine feigns surprise. “When you say he’s your partner, do you mean he’s your husband? Are you two married?” “Yes, we’re married.” “Well, congratulations. Wow, that’s so exciting!” Teddy flashes a nervous smile and lifts his left hand, wiggling his ring finger for the camera. “He’s officially off the market.” Janine laughs. “Is that why you wanted to sit down with me tonight? To tell the sports world that you’re an out and proud gay athlete?” My gaze darts to Poppy. She told me Janine wouldn’t ask the question quite so bluntly. I’m about to speak before Teddy leans forward. “Oh, come on, Janine. Do we really need to put labels on everything? Let’s just say he’s married to me and let the fans draw their own conclusions.”

“If by ‘exciting,’ you mean wrapping this guy’s shoulder in ice after every game? Sure, very exciting. Oh, and don’t forget about the Mario Kart. It turns out being an intern on a pro hockey team means playing hours and hours of Mario Kart.” “So, how did it go? Did your eyes connect over an exercise bike? Was it love at first sight?” “Hardly,” Teddy replies. He’s so good at this. The nerves have clearly worn off. Now he’s just talking, charming her like he does everyone. “I had to make him work for it a little.” Finding my voice, I nudge him with my shoulder. “Actually, I swept him off his feet. Remember, babe?” That’s the other piece of advice Poppy gave us: Use pet names. Couples in love don’t use each other’s first names. We decided he would call me “baby” and I’d call him “babe.” Though it sounds strange now in the moment, like trying to wear a shoe that doesn’t fit. Janine glances between us. “Oh, is that so?”

“The moment I first met Teddy is the moment I saved his life.” She gasps. “Wait, do you mean literally? You saved his life?” “I mean, I tackled him to the ground before I ever knew his name.” “Goodness, why?” “I had to. A truck was about to squash him into jelly. That’s how we met. One moment, I was Henrik, walking to work on a Monday morning. The next, I was on the ground, with this stranger in my arms, his cold coffee leaking all over my shirt. We both fell. And we’ve been falling for each other ever since. Right, babe?” Teddy nods, his smile tight. “Well, that sounds just like a fairy tale.” “I guess when you know, you know.” I look to Teddy, squeezing his hand. “Right?” “Yeah. I’d say from that first moment, I just knew.” “What did you know, Doctor O’Connor?” He holds her gaze, unwavering in his answer. “I knew that Henrik was the only man for me.”

“Just do it,” Teddy says, holding still while the photographer angles my face until I’m all but breathing down his neck. He snaps a few pictures of us like this. With each click, I fight the urge to look up and inspect which camera body and lens he’s using. Once they free us, Teddy darts away. Swiping his backpack off a chair, he heads for the door. Janine steps in just as I go to follow. “Oh, Henrik, I wondered if I could get just a few more pull quotes for the article—” “No.” I step around her. “Please, excuse me.” Something’s wrong. I can feel it. I follow after Teddy. “Hey,” I call out just before he ducks into the stairwell. “Teddy, wait.” He pauses, back turned, one hand holding open the stairwell door. “Where are you going? We drove here together, remember?” He turns as I approach, and I stop in my tracks. There are tears in his eyes. “Teddy, what . . .” I reach for him, but he jerks away, backing into the stairwell. “What the fuck was that?” I’m reeling, trying to pinpoint what upset him. “Did someone say something to you? Or do something? Who was it? Tell me—” “You did!” I blink. “What?” “You told those assholes about the sidewalk!” “And that’s . . . bad?” He huffs, crossing his arms. “We agreed that our first meeting story would be in the gym when you walked up with Sully. Remember, baby?” “Teddy, I—but you heard Poppy. She said to tell the truth as much as we were able. That’s all I did.” “The sidewalk story was private. It was ours. It—fuck—” He spins away, dar...

“Teddy, wait. Please, just tell me what I did wrong. Make me understand. I can’t apologize if I don’t know why I’m apologizing.” “Sure you can. You just say, ‘Teddy, I’m sorry for being such an insensitive ass.’ And then you let me fucking go.” But I don’t let him go. I band an arm around his chest, holding him to me as he tries to elbow me. Losing my patience, I curse in Swedish. “Du gör mig galen—just use your words, huh? Teddy, I’m sorry for being such an insensitive ass. There. Now tell me why I’m an ass, and I’ll apologize again.”

“I just wanted the sidewalk to stay ours, okay? It was the only thing that—” He sinks into silence on a muttered curse. I soften my hold on him. “Go on. It was the only thing that what?” He pulls away enough to turn in my arms. I relax a little, letting my hand drift down to grip his forearm. He’s still in my hold, but we both know it’s a choice now. He could easily escape. Instead, he dares to hold my gaze. “Sometimes it feels like our moment on the sidewalk is the only thing between us that’s real.” I search his face. “What do you mean?”