Page 82 of Pucking Strong

“What the hell was that?” he says, breaking the silence. “What are you even doing here?”

“What?” I glance around, confused. “Ilivehere, remember?”

“You said you were staying out tonight.”

“Well, I didn’t. And it seems like I came home pretty much right on time.”

He crosses his arms, and I try to ignore the way they bulge so beautifully in his too-tight T-shirt. “I had everything under control.”

I snort, snapping the lid back on the mashed potatoes. “Yeah. Clearly.”

“Hey, I was taking care of myself long before you ever entered my life, Teddy. Karolina too. We are not your responsibility.”

His words hit me like a slap. “How the fuck do you figure that? I fucking married you, Henrik. I signed her custody papers. Or did you forget that too?” I point towards her room. “That little girl is half mine. And I amallhers. I’m not gonna just stand by and watch while she cries, panicking, becauseyoucan’t sleep through the night.”

His nostrils flare as he glares at me. “I vowed this would impact you as little as possible. I vowed you’d be free to live your life. And so you are. You should be out now, living that life. Not trapped here with me.”

“Oh god, don’t be such a fucking martyr. You’re not the first person to live with night terrors. They suck, but they’re treatable. And preventable. But you have to want to help yourself. You have to actuallyseektreatment. If not for you, do it for Karro. She doesn’t deserve to be woken up, scared in her bed, thinking you’re in the next room fucking dying. She’s experienced enough parental death for one lifetime, don’t you think?”

Now he’s the one reeling back.

Fuck, how did we even get here? Why are we arguing at two in the morning in the fucking kitchen? He has a game tomorrow. And we’re both exhausted. No good can come of this.

“I don’t wanna fight,” I say, releasing all the wind in my sails. “If you want me to go that fucking bad, I’ll go—”

“Don’t.” He closes his eyes as if my words pained him. “Don’t go.” He opens his eyes, looking right at me. Fuck, what is he looking for so intently? “I want you to stay. I want you here, Teddy. I didn’t want—that is to say, I don’t …”

I tilt my head, trying to make sense of his gibberish. “Did your internal translator just break?”

“I don’t own you,” he blurts. “Even with that ring on your finger, even with the contract signed, you are not mine. But I’m possessive, Teddy. I’m precious about my things and about the people close to me. I like control, and I like to feel … ordered. But I don’t get to do that with you. I haven’t the right. I—tonight was difficult for me,” he adds, all but stuttering over the words. “But that’s my problem. I had no right, Teddy. And I’m sorry. With better sleep, I think I’ll be more articulate.”

The words are a jumble, but he’s said enough. More than fucking enough. And now my heart is racing. Is this … is Henrik admitting to feelingjealous? That’s a big emotion for him. Was he jealous tonight, thinking I was out with Colin? Is that what set him off? Restless and anxious, he came back here alone, and his out-of-control feelings led him to have a night terror?

I should feel mortified, right? In his inability to process his own emotions, I caused a man to have a night terror. That’s mortifying.

So why am I also flattered?

Henrik feels possessive overme. Precious, he said. He wants me, wants to keep me close. Inside, I’m crowing like a damn rooster. He gave me his truth, so I give him mine. “I wasn’t out with Colin tonight.”

He blinks, registering my words. “What?”

“I didn’t go out with Colin tonight. That’s not where I was.”

A dozen fresh emotions flash across his face before he squashes them down. “Where did you go?”

“Rip’s.”

His head tips to the side. “The karaoke bar?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Check the bag.”

He glances around. “What?”

I sigh, pointing across the island. “The massive gift bag right in front of you. Open it.”

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