Page 25 of Pucking Strong

But I shake my head, still frowning. “This goes so far above and beyond anything a team would ever require, Teddy. This is your life. And you heard Elin, we’d have to make this legal immediately.”

“I know.”

“That means we would have to get married.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“We’d have to tell people.”

He shrugs. “That’s kind of the point, right?”

“Everyone would know. The team, the media, our governments, our families.”

At this, he falters slightly, swallowing his nerves. “Yeah, I mean, that’s cool with me, if it’s cool with you. And there’s no skeletons in my closet or anything. I’m totally clean and—well—I don’t mean like that. Not, like, with sex, obviously.”

My shoulders stiffen.

“No!” He waves his hands. “I saidnotwith sex. You’re not even gay, right? So that would be crazy. This would be a totally fake marriage. I’m clean with, like, my record. I’m just a normal guy who likes sports and anime and helping people. And I wanna help Karro … and you.” His nerves settle a little as he holds my gaze. “I can help, Karlsson. Please, let me help you.”

This is more like the Teddy I remember from all those years ago, the distracted young man who walked into traffic and prattled nervously as he wrapped my shoulder with ice. He’s older now, more commanding and self-assured. But he’s also still the same Teddy.

Taking a deep breath, I give him one last chance. “You would really marry me?”

He considers for a moment. “I would, yeah.” Then his eyes shoot wide. “Oh god.” He looks around. “Is this a proposal? Are you proposing to me in this hospital cafeteria right now?”

I can’t help but chuckle. “I suppose I am.” Squaring my shoulders, I offer out my hand. “Teddy O’Connor, will you marry me?”

I can see the anxiety flashing across his face, and I don’t blame him. This is reckless, and wild, and completely out of character for me too. But I can’t be parted from Karolina. I won’t. Not now, and never again. And I may hardly know him, but I trust Teddy. He’s a good person. Noble, kind, loyal. If Teddy is saying yes to this mad plan, then so am I.

After a moment, he takes my hand. “Yeah, Karlsson. I’ll marry you.”

I give his hand a grateful squeeze, relief flooding me. “In that case, it’s probably best you start calling me Henrik.”

Oh my god, I’ve officially gone crazy. That’s what you call it when you agree to fake marry your colleague just so he can win temporary custody of his injured niece and drag her from her home country, thereby forcing her to experience the horror that is the rectangle pizza in an American public school cafeteria … right? We call that crazy?

Okay, Karolina isnoteating that pizza. I know I’m not technically her fake gay uncle yet, but my first order of business will be researching the top nonreligious private schools in Jacksonville. Our girl is getting the best education that money can buy. I’m sure the WAGs have a list. And Morbror Henrik can definitely afford it.

And fuck me. Henrik? “Start calling me Henrik”? That happened, right? I thought I was going to pass out right there on the damn floor of the cafeteria. Now I’m sitting on a stiff bench in the lobby of an administrative building in downtown Stockholm, staring at the back of Henrik’s head while he applies for our marriage license.

Because we’re getting married.

Me and Henrik.

Teddy O’Connor, hopelessly romantic double Pisces with boundary issues and a near-pathological need to please. And Henrik Karlsson, strong and silent Swedish hockey star who never says three words if none will do.

We’re getting married.

Today.

Now.

Oh, I am so fucking fucked! And not in the fun way. What am I doing? I have to stop this. It’s not fair to him. And it’s really not fair to me. In fact, I think the scientific term for it is torture. To be married to someone and not be able tobewith them? Touch them, hold them, love them out loud? I won’t be able to take it. I’ll crack. I’ll fucking shatter. I’ll say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing and ruin Henrik’s chance at securing full custody of his niece.

At this last thought, I swallow a groan, shifting in my seat.

God, I’m such a self-centered ass. This isn’t about me. It’s not even about Henrik. This is about that sad little girl, lying in a hospital, grieving her mom. Henrik asked me why I’m doing this, and my answer is simple: Karolina. I saw her face the moment he first entered that hospital room. I saw the relief there, the love, the marrow-deep trust and affection. I’ve watched her with him all week. Karolina loves her uncle. To lose him now would be devastating. At her young age, she’d think he didn’t want her. She’d blame herself. You don’t recover from that kind of soul-piercing abandonment.

Trust me, I know.

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