Page 43 of Pucking Strong

What’s changed?

He stills his thumb from scrolling. “So, did Poppy say anything else?”

“She told us not to worry. Our focus now is Karro and bringing her safely home. She said when we return, she’ll be ready with a plan.”

He glances my way, one dark brow raised. “A plan to what?”

I just shrug. “A plan to get us safely out of this mess.”

“Henrik—hey—wake up, man.” I shake his shoulder, trying to wake him. Fuck, he’s drenched in sweat. He thrashes again, groaning in his sleep. I was actually having a good dream until he kneed me in the hip, jolting me awake. Now I’m pressed against the wall while he cries out, flailing like he’s drowning on dry land.

“Henrik, come on,” I say, louder this time, grabbing him by the shoulders and pinning him down. “Wake up.”

I know the moment he finally wakes, because all the fight goes out of him like a robot powering down. He groans, his naked chest heaving for breath. But the second he feels me hovering over him, he gasps and tries to sit up. Cursing in Swedish, he frantically pulls away.

“Whoa, whoa—hey, it’s just me. It’s Teddy.”

“Teddy?” He’s clearly still confused. “I—what happened?”

“You’re awake,” I soothe, letting him go. “It’s okay, man. You’re okay.”

He presses a hand to his chest. “I couldn’t breathe.”

“It was just a dream.”

Still panting, he looks my way. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” I assure him, even though my hip is throbbing. The man has iron kneecaps.

He groans again, stretching an arm over his head to better catch his breath. “It always feels so real.” His voice sounds haunted. Is this just about his sister? What other demons does he carry?

I lie back down on my side, tucking my arm under my pillow. “Do you wanna talk about it? Sometimes that helps.”

He goes still as he considers. “No.”

It’s hard not to take that as rejection. “You’ve been having nightmares all week. Is that common for you?”

He sighs, cracking the knuckles in his fingers with a practiced flex of his hands. “No.”

“You’ve been dreaming of the car accident with your sister.”

“Yes.”

It wasn’t really a question. We both know it’s true. Reaching out, I rest my hand on his forearm. He flinches at the contact but doesn’t pull away. “Henrik, it wasn’t your fault. You’re not to blame for what happened to Petra.”

His breath catches as he turns to look at me. “You’ve never said her name before.”

I shrug. “I didn’t feel I had the right.”

“And now you do?”

I search his face in the weak moonlight. I can make out little more than the bridge of his nose and his brows. He’s not mad. He’s genuinely asking. “A lot has changed in a week,” I reply.

He flops back to stare up at the ceiling. “Bit of an understatement.”

“I know I never met her, but I’m here with you now. I’ve met Karolina and your parents. I saw Petra’s pictures and heard her stories. She’s not just a name to me anymore. She’s a person. She’syourperson. It’s my honor to say her name for you, to remember her with you.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. “This was a mistake.”

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