Pucking Around: A Why Choose Hockey Romance (Jacksonville Rays Book 1)
Pucking Around: Chapter 61

Something’s wrong. It’s written all over Ilmari’s face. He’s white as a sheet. It only lasts a moment before he’s burying himself so deep behind his thick walls. It’s like I watch him disappear, his whole body icing over. And then he’s gone, his face a blank mask.

Doctor Halla is speaking. It takes me a moment to realize why I’m confused. He’s not speaking English. Ilmari answers him in what I can only assume is Finnish, his voice low, his words clipped.

I knew Doctor Halla was European, but I never knew from where. Honestly, I never thought to ask. It’s not like we swapped life stories. If we weren’t talking about patient care, we weren’t really talking. I doubt he knows a thing about me other than that I like cheesy bagels and require a coffee IV drip to make it through a night shift.

“You two know each other?” I say, glancing between them.

And that’s when my heart drops from my chest. Doctor Halla is a tall man, broad-shouldered. He has short blond hair, peppered with grey at his temples, and deep blue eyes. My gaze darts from Ilmari to Doctor Halla and back. It’s the bridge of their noses that seals my suspicions. The slight downturned crease in the outside corner of their eyes. The thin set of their lips as they exchange clipped sentences in Finnish. “Are you two related?” I say over them, knowing I’m right.

“No,” Ilmari replies at the same time Doctor Halla says, “Yes.”

Ilmari is hard as stone, giving nothing away.

“I’m his father,” Halla explains.

“You are not my father,” Ilmari snaps. “You are nothing to me and never have been.”

As the men stare each other down, my brain is still mid-seizure. “I don’t understand,” I manage to say, looking at Mars. “I thought you said your father was a hockey player. Isn’t that the point in all of this?” I add, gesturing around. “You said the Olympics was your family’s legacy—”

“It’s the Kinnunen legacy,” says Halla with a decided frown. “Ilmari is not a Kinnunen.”

“Yes, I am,” Ilmari counters. He steps forward, his eyes blazing with heat. “My father is Juhani Kinnunen. What else do you call the man who raised me? You are nothing to me, Halla—”

“Because your mother never gave me a chance—”

Ilmari cuts Halla off with a string of vehement sentences spat in Finnish that I can only assume are colorful curses designed to let Doctor Halla know exactly where he can go. And then Halla is replying, his tone more measured, like he’s refusing to rise to Ilmari’s obvious bating.

Sensing the rising tension, I step between them. “Okay—” I lift a hand up in each of their directions. “I forgot my universal translator back on the Enterprise, so I’m gonna need you both to switch to English, okay? I’m sure we can figure this out—”

“No. I’m done,” says Ilmari. “This is done.”

“Son, don’t be a fool. You need these scans,” Doctor Halla replies. “Let me help you—”

“I don’t want your help,” Ilmari snaps. “I don’t want anything from you.”

And that’s when the truth I’ve been missing up to this point hits me on the head like an anvil. This isn’t some wacky coincidence. Doctor Halla knew what he was doing. From the moment I said Ilmari’s name on the phone, he knew I was talking about his son. He wanted me to bring him here. He used me to get to Ilmari.

And one look at Ilmari tells me how much this has hurt him. He has no relationship with this man, and I have to assume that’s on purpose. I trust Ilmari. I trust his reasons. My protective instincts flare.

Ilmari snatches the bags up off the floor and turns away like he means to leave.

“Ilmari, wait,” I call after him.

“Price, this wasn’t our agreement,” Doctor Halla’s cheeks are reddening with embarrassment as Joanne, the nurse at the front desk, watches all of this unfold. “You said you could get him here. You said he would see me.”

My mind is spinning. “I—”

Ilmari turns slowly back around, and now he’s staring daggers at me. “You said what?” He takes a half-step towards me. “You did this on purpose? You brought me to him?”

“Well, yes—but only to help you—”

“Did you know?” he says, looking at me like I’m a hydra with ten heads. “Did he tell you?”

“What?” I cry. “Mars—Jeezus—does this look like the face of a person in the know?” I say, gesturing to what I hope is a look of utter shock on my stupid, surprised face.

“You said you would get him here,” Halla challenges. “You promised me a dinner with my son.”

I see Ilmari’s face fall and then he’s turning away.

“What the—oh, come on, Mars—wait!” I call after him. “Mars—”

“Price, get him back here,” Doctor Halla barks at me. Then he shouts something in Finnish at Ilmari.

Ilmari snaps something back as he shoves his shoulder against the glass front door and leaves. Meanwhile, I’m halfway between Doctor Halla and the door, my senses spinning, heart racing.

I spin around, angry tears stinging my eyes. “Are you fucking serious right now? What the hell were you thinking? This is so unethical in like a hundred different ways!”

“Price—”

“Oh, don’t Price me,” I snap. “You knew what you were doing. You played me, asshole. I called you because that man is terrified,” I cry, pointing towards the front door. “He’s alone, and he’s scared, and he trusted me to help him. And I trusted you. And you just shit all over that trust!”

“Careful, Price,” Halla growls. Clearly, he dislikes being reprimanded by a resident in his own clinic. But I don’t fucking care. I spin away from him, slinging my purse back onto my shoulder. “Price, where are you going?”

“I have to go after him! I have to replace him and apologize and try to mend the damage from the emotional grenade you just lobbed at us!”

“Talk him down,” he pleads, following me to the door. “Reason with him. He needs to do these scans. I can help, Price—”

I huff, shrugging away from him. “You really think I’ll get him back in here now? Have you met Ilmari Kinnunen? There’s no making that man do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

“He’ll do it for you,” he calls at my back as I push on the door. “It’s clear he cares about you, Price. Use that.”

I spin around again. “Don’t you fucking dare,” I growl at him. “You’re a sports injury specialist, not a goddamn couple’s therapist. Stay out of our business.”

He smirks like I’ve just given him a compliment. “So, I was right. You’re together, yes?” He nods like he already knows he’s right. “You’re good for him, Price. You’re evenly matched in stubbornness.”

“Don’t pretend to know me. Or him. I don’t know what you did to that man, but his sentiment seemed pretty clear. And I think I’ll have to echo it. You can go ski into a cunt!”

Not waiting for his response, I turn on my heel and shove on the door, racing out into the crisp October afternoon in search of my wayward goalie.