Page 79 of Pucking Strong

“Eat me,” Janna replies, popping a fried pickle chip into her mouth.

Both women laugh.

Heather makes some response, but I’m distracted by the form sitting on the bar. Most of the WAGs have already filled it out. Apparently, comedy is the name of this game. Janna and Heather both picked Madonna songs for their guys. If Langley scores tomorrow night, the whole arena is gonna cheer to the chorus of “Who Let the Dogs Out.”

Smiling, I set my hurricane down on the bar. I slip my phone from my pocket and pull up my workout playlist, scrolling with my thumb. This shouldn’t make me so giddy, right? But teasing Henrik with Karro has quickly become one of my new favorite hobbies. Spotting a strong contender, I smile and pick up the pen.

This is one fake husband task I’m more than happy to do.

It’s after one in the morning by the time I get back to the apartment. It’s so dark and quiet. After the chaos of the karaoke bar, there’s almost a fuzzy humming in my ears. The doors to Karro’s and Henrik’s rooms are both open, so I tiptoe on socked feet through the living room and into the kitchen, trying not to rustle the damn paper in my massive gift bag.

Man, those WAGs sure can hold their liquor. I tapped out after two hurricanes. Switching to root beer, I scarfed down a cheeseburger, half a basket of fried pickle chips, and an order of mozzarella sticks, and Istillfeel like I have springs for legs.

Leaving my backpack and the gift bag on the island, I slink around to the fridge. Henrik’s hyper organization is most clearly manifested in his food preparation. I see now what an anomaly it was for us to eat takeout curry on his couch in Stockholm. Now that we’re back, the man is meticulous with his diet.

Twice a week, a private chef name Alex comes over and preps a bunch of stuff for Henrik to eat—grilled chicken and rice, creamy vegetable soups, salmon avocado poke bowls, a dozen hard-boiled eggs, overnight oats. There’s always fresh fruit and veggies and some kind of prepared starch. I’m still learning what food I’m allowed to take that won’t mess with his mojo.

Reaching for a glass container of leftover mashed potatoes, I pause, glancing over my shoulder. Did he just call my name?

I wait, listening to hear the sound again. But there’s nothing.

The fridge door starts beeping at me, and I curse under my breath, pulling out the container of potatoes. I shut the door as quickly and quietly as I can. Skipping right past the reheating phase of my midnight munchies, I open the cutlery drawer and pluck out a spoon. I’m digging into the cold potatoes when I hear the sound again. I set the spoon down, leaving the potatoes on the counter, and tiptoe towards the living room. Is Henrik up?

A distressed groaning filters down the hallway from his room.

Shit. I thought he was starting to move past this? I don’t want to wake him if I don’t have to. He’s mentioned before it can be hard for him to get back to sleep. Restless sleep is better than no sleep the night before a game. I turn to go back to my potatoes when his cry sends a chill down my damn spine.

Then I hear Karro’s voice. “Morbror?”

Oh fuck, he woke her up.

His shouting gets louder, and I’m on the move, jogging across the living room.

“Morbror?” Poor Karro sounds so scared. She knows she’s not supposed to get up without help because of her ribs. “Teddy!” Her panicked cry twists my heart.

“I’m coming, baby!” Ducking into her room, I click on the twinkle lights strung to the frame of her bed. They flicker, casting a halo of golden light over her. Karolina’s lying in the middle of her pink flower sheets, surrounded by her stuffed animals. There’s a haunted look on her face.

“Morbror’s hurt,” she cries, tears in her eyes.

“He’s not hurt. He’s just having a bad dream. I have to go help him, okay? You stay right here—”

“No, don’t go!”

From the room next door, Henrik howls like a dog with a broken leg.

Karro reaches for me with both hands, and I hurry forward, taking them in mine. I kiss each one, my lips brushing over her purple cast. “Baby, I have to help Morbror. You take Teddy and you squeeze him tight, tight, tight. Hold him till I get back.” I hand her the bear and kiss her forehead, ignoring her cries as I dash from the room.

Stumbling into Henrik’s room, I cut on the light. He thrashes on the bed with the sheet twisted up around his naked hips. His legs are tangled too, adding to his panic. His chest is slicked with sweat.

Shutting out the sound of Karro’s weak cries, I charge forward. “Come on, man. Wake up.”

He groans as I touch him, rolling away.

I shake his shoulder. “Henrik,wake up.”

Mistaking me for some kind of life raft, he latches on, practically pulling me down onto the bed as he tries to climb my body. Cursing, I roll with him. “Henrik, it’s me. It’s Teddy. You need to wake up.”

He pants, his sweaty, heavy body wrapping itself around me like a giant squid.

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