Page 192 of Pucking Strong

“Sorry, Poppy.”

She spins around in her heels. “Oh, Teddy, don’t you apologize, honey. This isn’t your fault. It’s not your fault either,” she quickly adds at Henrik. “The press is just … well, the worst. But what else is freaking new?”

“But you have an idea?” I shift to the edge of the couch. “Some plan to get us out of this? Some way to spin it all in Henrik’s favor?”

She huffs, dropping down in the chair opposite us. “I’ll not deny it, boys. This really is a rotten kettle of fish. These tabloidvultures aren’t doing you any favors, and the story we were trying to avoid got out in the end.”

“Which story is that?” I say.

Over the last couple days, more articles have been published. Internet sleuths even pulled pictures from my time as an intern. I didn’t know they existed. Action shots of Henrik on the ice, me watching from the bench. There’s even one of him walking off the bus on game day, me a few steps behind. He’s stoic and aloof, completely unobtainable. While I look like a puppy, panting at his heels.

Frankly, they’re embarrassing. More embarrassing than half the guys finding us with my pants around my ankles. At least at the beach, I was thoroughly fucked. The intern-era photos show just how hopeless and desperate I really was.

Poppy gestures to the spread of articles on the coffee table between us. “These photos act as a sort of timeline. At best, the stories make it look like Henrik took advantage of you, preying on your innocence as an intern.”

I snort. My innocence? Yeah, I lost that back in middle school.

“At worst,” she goes on, “These new articles are still painting your quickie marriage as a sham, designed to help Henrik gain custody of Karolina. Your mother saying you’re not married hasn’t helped.”

“My mother is unwell,” Henrik replies. “The Swedish press already issued a retraction, correcting her words.”

“I know,” she goes on. “But pair that little speed bump with the infidelity rumors, the proof of violence, and the broken endorsement deals, and it’s not looking good …”

She pauses at Henrik’s ringing phone. It buzzes on the coffee table, and I see Elin’s name on the caller ID.

Oh fuck.

He glances sharply at me before looking to Poppy. “I have to take this.”

“Please.” She waves her hand. “Be my guest.”

He brings the phone to his ear and answers in Swedish, his tone clipped. In moments, he’s turning it on speaker and setting it on the coffee table. Then he switches to English. “Poppy, this ismy lawyer in Sweden, Elin Ågren. Elin, I have you here with Teddy and my team publicist.”

“Hello,” comes her soft voice.

“Hey, Elin.” I wave at the phone, even though she can’t see me.

“What update do you have for us?” says Henrik.

She sighs, and my heart drops from my chest. “I’m sorry, but it’s not good news.”

I grip his knee.

“What news?” he presses, covering my hand with his.

“I’ve just been on the phone with Karolina’s case worker. There are concerns about your suitability to be her primary guardian.”

“Based on what?” he challenges. “Fabricated articles in sports tabloids? The manipulation of my mother? Social media posts?”

“There are concerns about your recent displays of violence. On and off the ice.”

“My god, violence on the ice is his literal job,” I cry. “He’s a professional hockey player for Christ’s sake!”

“And off it?”

Henrik sits forward. “Elin, the stories have it wrong. It wasn’t a drunken brawl between rival teams. I stepped in when a drunken Blackhawks player attempted to sexually assault my husband. Does the Swedish government now hold with assault?”

“He assaulted you, Teddy? There is proof of this?”

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