Pucking Strong: An MM Workplace Hockey Romance (Jacksonville Rays Book 4)

Five Years Later

Henrik and I make our way into the crowded auditorium. He has the flowers, and I have Karolina’s coat. Before I can worry about trying to find our seats, a shrill whistle has us both turning. Ryan Langley stands about ten rows down, waving us forward. He looks dapper in a grey suit with no tie, his beach-blond hair flopping across his forehead.

“This way, babe,” I say over my shoulder.

Henrik follows me down the aisle, where we’re greeted by what looks like half the Rays. The Langleys are here, obviously. Tonight, Emma and Karolina are debuting as flower dancers in the Jacksonville Ballet Company’s holiday production of The Nutcracker. Karro’s been practicing hard for months. I feel like I have the steps memorized at this point too.

Paulie and his wife Maribel are here. Their daughter Beatriz is one of the Russian candy cane dancers, I think. Next to them are Rachel and Jake Price and their son Jamie.

“Where’s the rest of the fam?” I say, patting her shoulder as I pass.

She smiles up at me. “Split efforts tonight. We wanted to be here to support the kids, while the others all went to watch Tuo’s hockey game.”

I grin at Jake. “Does it gall you at all? Your kiddo choosing to be a forward?”

He just shakes his head. “Not at all. Heck, I was a forward until I was fifteen. He’s got time to change his mind.”

“Maybe he’ll be a goalie,” I say with a shrug.

Jake smiles. “He’s certainly got the genes for it … though his mom has two left feet.”

She elbows him and he laughs. But Jake’s not kidding. The older Tuomas Price has gotten, the more it’s become clear exactly who his father is. The boy is only seven, and he’s already the spitting image of Ilmari.

The St. James-Novikov-Morrows are here too. Poppy sits in the row one below Rachel, her daughter Fiona snuggled in her lap. Bennett sits between his dads, his eyes locked on the glowing screen of his tablet.

“Hey, Teddy.” Poppy gives us a wave. “Oh, Henrik, those are gorgeous!”

He glances down at our bouquet of twelve long-stem red roses with a smile.

“We got flowers too,” says Colton, pointing to the seat next to him where I see a pretty bouquet of winter florals.

I slip into the row in front of them, setting my coat on the seat the Langleys saved for us. “That’s right. Grace is dancing tonight too, right?”

Novy leans back in his seat, arms folded across his chest in his sport coat. “Gracie is a snowflake. Act One. She’s so fucking good. Our girl can arabesque like anything.”

Poppy laughs, rolling her eyes. “She only demanded to audition because Emma and Karolina were auditioning. And she’s complained every night we’ve taken her to rehearsals.”

He narrows his eyes at her. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you may have to face the fact that, after five years, our daughter has fallen out of love with ballet. Now, all she talks about is wanting to be a drummer in a band.”

I chuckle, sinking down in my seat.

Henrik sits next to me, leaning in. “There are many things I will abide in the name of Karolina’s happiness, but a drum set—”

“I know,” I soothe, patting his knee.

After two years in Henrik’s old apartment, we finally moved into a bigger place closer to the beach. We’re now only a five-minute walk from the Langleys. Ever since someone thought it would be a good idea to get Karolina a dog, it’s a walk we make pretty much daily. “Sparkles bought you some good will,” I assure him. “If she asks for a drum set, we’ll just say he’s allergic.”

He snorts, carefully shifting the bouquet of flowers to under his chair.

Tess leans in over Ryan, squeezing my arm. “Is she excited? Did you see her all dressed and ready?”

I nod, grinning. “I took, like, a thousand pictures on my phone. I got some good ones of Emma too. I’ll send them to you.”

She gives me a thumbs-up as the lights go down.

Ryan leans around me to look at Henrik. “Hey, we’re going out for pizza tonight to celebrate. You three wanna join?”

“Can’t,” Henrik replies, clapping along with the rest of the crowd as the lights flash on stage, illuminating the curtains.

“We can’t?” I say, one brow raised. “Why not?”

“We’ve got plans,” he replies, loud enough for Ryan to hear.

This is the first I’m hearing of post-ballet dinner plans. My Spidey senses start to tingle as I glance over at my husband. “What plans?”

He just places a hand on my knee, giving it a pat.

“I won’t let up until you tell me.”

“It’s a surprise.”

The overture starts, and I’m left dangling for the whole of Act One, wondering what plans he made without telling me. From the moment the “Waltz of the Flowers” begins in Act Two, Henrik and I are on the edge of our seats. I gasp as Karolina comes prancing onto the stage in her pale green tutu. I grip Henrik’s arm. “Babe—”

“I see her.” He takes my hand, weaving our fingers together.

“Wow, she looks good,” Ryan says next to me.

Next to him, Tess is on the edge of her seat too, her mountain of red curls piled atop her head. A few strands frame her freckled face as she clutches to her phone, recording Emma, who is dancing two girls behind Karolina. My god, how could I forget?

“Babe, your phone,” I hiss.

Henrik scrambles to get his phone, setting it to record, as we watch Karolina leap and twirl, her arms fanning. At ten, she’s tall for her age. She’s one of the tallest girls on the stage. Her icy-blonde hair has grown to her butt. She won’t let us cut it. Her Tangled phase left too great an imprint on her psyche.

I was a proud papa bear watching Henrik help her braid it tonight. We got it pinned up in a crown and hair-sprayed it until it was practically a helmet. If that hair falls, it won’t be our fault. She weaves between the other girls, prancing from stage left to stage right, hitting each mark.

Next to me, Ryan is muttering under his breath. “Tendu … pirouette into fouetté—yes!”

Emma and Karolina both nail landing in a lunge, back legs extended, chests open, arms extended.

Henrik’s eyes are on Karolina rather than the screen of his phone. “She looks so beautiful.”

Tears sting my eyes as I watch our girl go, owning the stage like she was born to dance. I don’t often let myself dwell on the darkness of how we met, but in this moment, watching the power in her leaps, I can’t help but think back to that little girl I met in Sweden, bruises on her eye, a fluffy pink sock on the foot of her broken leg.

She’s come so far. She still loves drawing and watching movies. Math is her favorite subject in school. And she’s pulled Henrik back into his love of photography. They want to set up a darkroom upstairs so he can teach her how to develop film. We all took surfing lessons together until Karro and I admitted we were too afraid of sharks to continue. This summer, we’ve planned a family trip to Peru to hike part of the Inca Trail.

“Doesn’t she look beautiful?” His eyes glow as he watches her do her spins at center stage.

“She does,” I murmur, a tear slipping down my cheek. “She’s so beautiful.”

The lights are up, and Christmas carols play over the speakers in the auditorium. All the families mill around, waiting for the dancers to be released from backstage.

“Did you like it?” I say at Bennett.

He just shrugs. “It was long. The rat dancers were kinda cool. Reminded me of Ninja Turtles.”

I smile. Ah, the mind of an eleven-year-old boy. What a delightful and silly place.

Ryan has his back turned to me, laughing at something with Tess. The pair of them hold bouquets of pink roses as they wait for Emma.

“Your girl is really good,” Novy says over my shoulder, patting Henrik’s back. “How did she get so tall? Was your sister really tall?”

“I’d say she was average,” he replies.

“I’m sure she’ll start slowing down and let the boys catch up,” I say. “My sister, Nat, was 5’11” by the end of middle school, but then she never grew another inch.”

“If Karolina gets any taller, you’ll have to try her out for volleyball,” Poppy teases. “I always wanted to play, but I’m a bit too vertically challenged.”

All at once, it’s chaos as the dancers begin slipping out from the sides of the stage, trying to find their families in the crowd. Gracie Morrow comes prancing down the aisle, still dressed as a snowflake. “Did you see me, Fi?” she calls to her little sister.

“Baby cakes, you did so good!” Poppy hugs her daughter, passing her around from Novy to Colton. Bennett is the one to hand her the flowers. She takes them, giving him a side hug.

“Morbror, Teddy!”

I spin around to see Karolina darting through the crowd, hand in hand with Emma.

“Daddy!” Emma shouts.

“Hey, there she is!” Ryan sweeps Emma up into the air, making her squeal, as Tess smothers her with the flowers.

Karolina is more sedate as she hops like a bunny to come stand in front of us. “Well? Did you see me?”

Henrik hands her the flowers. “You looked so beautiful, mitt lamm.”noveldrama

She looks to me, smiling from ear to ear, clutching her giant bouquet of oversized red roses. “Teddy?”

Finally breaking, I let the tears fall and pull her to me. “You were fantastic!”

“Don’t cry,” she mumbles against my chest.

I snort a laugh that sounds like a sob. “Just try and stop me.”

She pulls away, her smile shifting to more of a mischievous grin. She glances to Henrik. “Did you tell him?”

“I told him nothing,” he replies stoically.

“Tell me what?” I glance between them. “Guys, tell me what?”

She clutches to her flowers, her cheeks blooming pink. “We have a surprise for you.”

My brow furrows, even as my heart starts to race. “What surprise? It’s not my birthday, and Christmas is still, like, two weeks away.”

She bounces on the balls of her feet. “Should we tell him now?”

“Yes,” I say as Henrik says, “No.”

I groan.

“Get your stuff,” he says at her. “We’ll meet you right back here.”

Shoving her flowers at my chest, she darts away in search of her lost duffel bag. She may not be mine by blood, but apparently the propensity to lose things is more a nurture-over-nature thing.

“Is dinner the surprise?” I say as Henrik pulls the SUV into the parking lot of High Tide. We’ve been playing the world’s most unfun game of Twenty Questions, where I try to guess the surprise and they give me nothing.

“It’s part of it,” says Karro from the back seat. She’s out of her costume now, dressed in a comfortable purple sweat suit set. But she still has her hair braided and her show makeup on. “Morbror said this restaurant was special to you.”

I click off my seat belt as she says the words, sitting frozen in the front seat. My god, she’s right. We haven’t been here together since our first date. How is that even possible? I think I’ve been here a few times in the passing years. A birthday, maybe. And a work lunch. But never with Karolina and Henrik. It’s just far enough down the A1A that we never think to go here.

I slip out of the SUV as Henrik hands the keys to the valet. Karolina steps in behind Henrik, taking one of our hands in each of hers. She leads the way up the ramp, bouncing ahead to open the front door for us.

“Remember the photographer?” I say, pointing over to the patch of bushes.

Henrik smirks. “And the lady who was affronted at seeing two men holding hands.”

I laugh. “Denise. God, how do I still remember her name?”

We step inside, and Karolina is already at the hostess stand. “We have a reservation for Karlsson,” she says in her doll voice. “Three people.”

The hostess smiles down at her. “Yep, I have it here.”

We follow her through the first dining room into the far corner, where we’re shown a table by the windows. During the day, this looks out on a gorgeous view of the Atlantic Ocean. The sun has long set, so now the view is now just a dark abyss. A candle lit on the table provides a warm glow that reflects off the large windows.

“Your server will be right with you,” the hostess says, handing us our menus.

Henrik and Karro open theirs as if nothing fishy is happening. They both bury their faces behind the folds, leaving me to gape at them, my own menu ignored. “Guys, seriously? You have to tell me what’s going on. It’s not fair that you both know.”

Before either of them can speak, the waiter comes over and takes our drink order. “He’ll have an amaretto sour,” Henrik tells him. “I’ll have a pale ale, whatever’s on tap. And we’re ready to order. We’d like to start with an order of the mussels. Then we’ll all split a branzino and a plate of the lobster and scallop risotto.”

“Very good, sir.”

The waiter takes the menus, and I’m left speechless. “You—but that—we ordered that on our first date,” I finally blurt.

He smiles, sipping his water. “I know.”

Snatching up my napkin, I stuff it under the table onto my lap. “Okay, someone better start talking.” I point across the table at Karolina, my eyes narrowed. “You. You’re gonna tell me, aren’t you?”

She glances up at Henrik. “Can we?”

He nods, and I sigh with relief, knowing my suffering is at an end. “We wanted to do something special for you for Christmas this year,” he begins. “Karolina and I coordinated our gifts.”

“But you both always get me such wonderful gifts.” It’s true. Last year they got me a lovely watch and a spa package. The year before, it was a family trip to Canada to go skiing.

“It’s not so much something we can get for you,” Karro explains. “More like … something we each want to ask you.”

I glance between them. “Something to ask me?”

They both nod.

“Well, why are we doing this now? Why not wait until actual Christmas?”

“Because we wanted it to be just us,” she replies. “Morbror goes out of town this week for games, then we’ll all be busy with the trip to Montana. And we won’t really be alone there …”

The Prices invited us to spend Christmas in Montana again this year. One week with twenty-five people trapped in one big ranch house. It’s chaotic and fun, and she’s right—we’ll get no alone time.

The waiter delivers our drinks, and I take a sip of my amaretto sour. “Okay, so you say you have something to ask me?”

Henrik glances down at Karro. “You first, lamm.”

Taking a deep breath, she reaches into the pocket of her purple sweatshirt and pulls out a folded piece of paper. Then she holds it out to me. “This is for you. I wrote it down.”

At the look of nervous excitement on her face, I already know I’m about to freaking lose it. I take the paper from her, holding back my tears. She colored the front to look like a winter forest. In a scripty red font, it says, “Merry Christmas.” Smiling, I open the handmade card. Inside, there’s one line written in her slanted handwriting: “Can I call you Dad?”

I stare down at the words, heart racing. Slowly, I look up to see tears in her eyes, Henrik’s hand on her shoulder. “You really mean it?” I say through my own tears.

She nods, sniffling. “Henrik will always be my morbror. It’s all I’ve ever known, and we’re happy. But I don’t like calling you Uncle Teddy.”

“Why?”

She shrugs. “You just don’t feel like an uncle to me. I had a mom, and she was perfect. And I have an uncle,” she adds, smiling up at Henrik. Then she turns back to me. “I think I’d like to have a dad … if you’ll let me.”

I set the card down, tears flowing. “Oh, honey, of course. I mean—is it okay with Henrik?” I look to him to see he’s crying too. I choke on a laugh, grabbing my napkin off my lap. “Oh my god, look at us. The waiter is gonna kick us out of here.”

They both laugh as they wipe their eyes.

I hold out my arms. “Oh, honey, come here.”

She darts out of her chair and around Henrik, dropping into my lap with a soft sob. I hold her to me, my arms around her tight, trying and failing to keep my cool. I brush my hand up and down her back, slowly rocking her. “I’d be honored if you chose to call me your dad. Karolina, I love you so much.”

“I love you.” Her words are muffled against my chest.

“Can I call you my daughter? Is that what you want?”

She nods again.

I turn to Henrik. “Apparently you have something to ask me too?”

“I do.” His expression is glowing as he reaches into the pocket of his suit and pulls out his own papers, folded long ways. Smiling, he extends his arm, holding them out across the table.

Still sniffling on my lap, Karro turns so she can watch me take them. Heart in my throat, I unfold the papers to see some kind of government document. “A name change application for the State of Florida? What, are we about to all go on the lam? Are we committing a crime before dessert?”

Karro grins.

“No,” Henrik replies, his voice soft. “I’d like you to consider changing your last name.”

“To what?” I reply, obviously in a daze.

The corner of his mouth twitches with a smile. “Well, I suppose that will really be up to you, but I was hoping you might add ‘Karlsson’ to the short list of options.”

I gasp, dropping the papers to the table. “You want me to change my last name to Karlsson?”

He shrugs noncommittally. But I see the heat in his eyes. After five years together, I can read him like a book. He wants this. Desperately. “We’re married,” he reasons. “It’s common practice for people who are married to take each other’s name.”

“We are married,” I muse. I wear the rings to prove it. Heck, we did it twice, just to make sure it would really stick.

“And it’s two against one,” Karro chimes, pointing between her and Henrik.

“Oh yeah? Two against one, huh?”

“Yeah, ’cause our names are both already Karlsson. Yours could be too. I think it should be. Then no one can doubt that we’re a family, that we belong together.”

My heart flutters as I glance down at her. “You want this too?”

She nods.

I glance to Henrik. “Well, what if I want to keep my name?Would you consider changing your name to O’Connor?”

After a moment, he nods. “I already asked Elin about the process. Karolina and I can petition the Swedish Tax Agency to have our names changed if that’s your preference.”

I pick up the papers, flipping through them, trying to keep my tone measured. Meanwhile, my heart is racing. “But your preference is for me to become a Karlsson?”

“I have no preference,” he calmly replies. “I’m merely offering you the options. If you don’t wish to become a Karlsson, Karro and I will happily become O’Connors. We’re ready, and we want this. We hope you do too.”

Fighting my smile, I test it out, as if I haven’t whispered it like a prayer a thousand times before. “Teddy Karlsson … it has a nice ring to it.”

Henrik’s gaze is molten. If we were alone right now, instead of in a crowded restaurant, he’d already have me in his arms, my body splayed across this table. The thought makes me sit up a little straighter. “Fine. I’ll take your last name on one condition …”

He raises a brow, waiting.

I grin, playing my trump card. “You have to go to Burning Man with me next year. And, yes, before you ask, you have to wear the chaps. And the lace crop top.”

He sighs as Karro giggles.

I glance between them. “What? What’s funny?”

Henrik nods at her. “Give them to him.”

Reaching in her pocket, she pulls out two small pieces of paper and hands them to me. I gasp as I see that she’s cut them to look like handmade carnival tickets. On each one it says, “Burning Man: Limit One Entry.” She even decorated the edges with cute little flames.

My gaze darts between them as I sputter. “But—I—how?”

Across the table, Henrik just smiles. “Because I know you, mitt hjärta. I know the soul of you. And I will wear your chaps at Burning Man next year. But first, you take our name.”

My smile is so big it hurts as I set the papers aside and wrap my arms around my daughter, smiling across the table at my husband. “Dr. and Mr. Teddy Karlsson … Oooh, babe, that’ll look so good on our return address labels.”

He nods, sipping his beer. “Anything you want, mitt hjärta. Anything at all.”