30. Oskar
CHAPTER THIRTY
OSKAR
The smell of dill and vinegar fills Kai’s kitchen, cutting through the scent of the forest candles he left burning in the living room.
He got them from a Swedish store in Brooklyn, thinking they would smell like pine woods after snow.
Honestly, they smell more like rich people and trees, though I’d never tell him that.
In the last few days, little pieces of Sweden have appeared all over the condo.
The candles everywhere, julmust in the refrigerator, a paper star lamp glowing in the window.
He even found a Swedish edition of Peter and Lotta’s Christmas, and I nearly died when he tried to read part of it to me.
Very sweet and absolutely hilarious. I did not laugh because he must have practiced the words for a long time.
Chuckling at the memory, I finish slicing the cucumbers. It takes a while, but I want perfection because Kai loves them. After pressing the slices into a glass jar with the dressing, I seal the lid and slide them into the refrigerator next to the potato casserole Kai made last night.
The condo feels huge. Without Kai pacing around, the hum of the heating system and the occasional siren blaring down Tenth Avenue sound much louder. I’ve been here many times, but being alone in Kai’s space is different. It reminds me of a Swedish forest on an early morning walk—quiet and cold.
Trying to be useful, I take the damp kitchen towels to the laundry room.
Nearly hidden behind a heavy pocket door, it’s a small white space full of tile and stainless steel.
I turn to go as soon as I drop the towels into an empty basket, but then notice three framed photos hanging above the folding table.
They show horses standing in their cross-ties, looking straight at the camera.
Kai has never mentioned horses to me, so I doubt there’s a connection.
He’s one of those collectors who buys something when it appeals to him.
The pictures remind me of the dalah?st I bought for my father.
The clerk at the shipping store promised the package would arrive in Sweden before Christmas, but I haven’t heard from my parents yet.
I take my phone out of my pocket and check the time. It’s almost eight o’clock in Stockholm. Before I can talk myself out of it, I tap the video call button.
It rings three times before the screen lights up.
My mother’s face appears, already beaming.
Swedish Christmas carols are playing in the background.
I smile because Kai spent half an hour last night trying to find a playlist for our Christmas dinner.
He said the music needs to match our Swedish feast.
“Oskar!” Mamma cries, and then, “Fredrik, it’s Oskar!”
The picture shakes as she passes the phone to Pappa. He’s holding up a glass of wine in a silent toast.
“There he is, the star of the HFNA. God jul, Oskar. Are you eating well? You look thinner.”
“Merry Christmas, Pappa.” Hearing Swedish again is as good as having a hot shower after a hectic game. “I’m eating plenty. You know I always lose weight during the season, and the travel schedule is much heavier here.”
“Your package arrived last night,” Mamma calls out. “The gifts are beautiful, Oskar, but you spent too much on shipping.”
“It’s fine,” I say, leaning against the washing machine. “I wanted to be sure they got there on time.”
“Look here,” Pappa says, turning the phone so I can see the gifts on a side table.
I blink away the unexpected tears in my eyes.
Pappa studies me through the screen. “Where are you? I know that isn’t your apartment. You can’t stand white walls.”
It’s a simple question, but my throat tightens as I try to answer. I should tell him I’m at my boyfriend’s place. His name is Kai, I could say. He plays for the Condors. We’re getting closer every day.
But the words won’t come out. Instead, I say, “I’m at a friend’s condo. We’re making dinner, and he had to run to the grocery store.”
“Oh, a teammate?” Pappa asks.
Before I can answer, the picture shakes again, and Mamma comes back on screen.
“I’m so glad you’re with someone,” she says. “I was hoping you wouldn’t spend the holiday alone. How’s your social life in New York?”
“Social life?” My knee bounces so hard I try to hold it down. It doesn’t help. “We’re busy all the time, Mamma. My teammates are friendly. They’re treating me well, and we get along.”
“I’m glad you like them. That must make all the travel easier.”
“For sure,” I say, breaking into English. Then, in Swedish, “That means yes.”
She laughs. “You know we speak English. I’m familiar with that phrase.” Her voice turns serious. “Are you meeting people apart from the team? It would be good to make friends outside of hockey.”
“I’m trying, but our schedule makes things hard.”
She doesn’t let it go. “Have you met someone special? You’re twenty-two, the handsomest hockey player in America. I’m sure many people would be interested in seeing you.”
I barely hold back a groan. If I give her any information, she’ll keep asking questions.
“I’ve been on a couple of dates,” I finally say.
She perks up. “Well, don’t keep us in suspense. Tell us about… her or him. We want to know more.”
Something inside me stalls. I can’t give her what she wants. Not that she wouldn’t support me, but she’d know, and I want Kai to myself. I press my lips together until they’re numb.
The excitement fades from her face, replaced by hurt.
Before the silence drags on longer, Pappa speaks up, his voice deep and calm.
“Let the boy alone, Anna. He is in America to stop pucks, not to be cross-examined. If he spends all his time chasing romance, his glove hand will get slow. Then his old man will have to fly over there and give him a stern talk.”
Mamma lets out a soft, exasperated sigh and says, “A slow glove hand would be a tragedy. I did not mean to upset you, Oskar.”
“I’m sorry, Mamma. The travel has worn me out.”
Understated, but that’s what she taught me. She’s always said big, dramatic apologies never sound sincere.
Her smile comes back, melting the tension. “It is forgotten. We know how hard you work. I’m sure you have a lot of cooking to do, so we should let you go. Tell your friend Merry Christmas from Stockholm. We love you, Oskar.”
“Love you,” Pappa says.
“I love you too. God jul.”
The screen goes black, and my stomach twists into a tight knot. I’ve always prided myself on being direct, yet I just denied the most important person in my life to the people who know me best.
It wasn’t because I am ashamed. Vad fan, it’s the opposite. I want this to work so much that even telling my parents feels like what my teammates call a jinx. Goalies are superstitious. We don’t think about a shutout while there’s still time on the clock. And we don’t dream about forever until…
J?vla skit!
Kai ran from me once because what was happening between us scared him. He promised not to do it again. But promises made when things are calm are easily broken when life gets loud. It has only been a few months. How am I supposed to forget how all that felt?
Helvete. I’m as afraid as Kai is, but my fear isn’t organized. It’s a messy pile of bricks, ready to fall the minute I slip up.
I go sit in the living room. I’m still there, looking out the window, when the front door opens.
“I’m back!” Kai calls out, and I hear the rustle of paper bags. His voice makes most of my worry disappear. “You wouldn’t believe the human zoo that is Whole Foods on Christmas Eve. Two people got into a shoving match over the last carton of organic eggnog.”
I find him in the kitchen, unpacking groceries. His smile warms me from head to toe, and after I kiss him, his grin is even bigger.
“Missed you,” he says. “Look what I remembered.” He holds up a jar of lingonberry preserves and gives a little cheer.
“Impressive. I was sure you’d forget.”
“No faith in me? I loved the lingonberries when we had meatballs in October.”
The memory comes back. Making dinner and not eating it until hours later because we took a long detour to the bedroom. Should we postpone dinner again tonight? Maybe not, since it is a holiday. Food first, then Kai.
He gives me a sly look as we put the groceries away. “Just for you, I found the duck thing.”
“Duck thing?”
“The Christmas Donald Duck special your entire country apparently worships.”
If I could get a magic Christmas wish, I’d want to freeze things the way they are right this minute.
“Kalle Anka? How do you know about that?” I’m surprised by the excitement thrumming in my veins.
“I know things. Or at least I have the internet to help me learn.”
“Better watch out. You might turn into a real Swede.”
That earns me a big kiss on the cheek. He makes me laugh with more war stories about the grocery store on Christmas Eve, and everything feels easy.
But I don’t tell him about the phone call. If I did, I’d have to explain. And how would I tell the man who promised not to run that I still flinch every time he walks toward the door?
Hours later, the condo is dark except for the faint glow from the night light in the bathroom.
The dishes are done, the leftovers are put away, and Kai is asleep beside me.
Even the city outside seems peaceful as the day replays in my mind—an amazing morning in bed, talking to my parents, cooking together, and watching Kalle Anka.
I’ll never forget Kai’s eyes, glimmering in the candlelight over Christmas dinner.
He looked at me like I was the only person who mattered. It was perfect.
The only thing that bothers me is not telling my parents about him. Kai means more to me than anything. He’s changing who I am, and I don’t even want to think about how much I have to lose. I’m not afraid of what I feel for him; I’m afraid because I don’t know what comes next.
He grazes his hand across my chest until it is over my heart.
“Hey.” His voice is thick with sleep. “This is the best holiday break ever. Thanks for spending it with me.”
His words are simple, but what they make me feel is anything but. I turn onto my side and kiss him.
It starts with a simple press of lips but doesn’t stay that way.
His mouth opens for me, and his tongue tangles with mine.
The urgency I feel isn’t regular lust. It’s a desperate need to erase every inch of distance between us, to press us so close that we can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
When I slide my hand down his side and over the curve of his bare hip, he arches toward me, already hard.
I love the way his cock throbs in my hand, and when I squeeze him, he shudders.
The kiss breaks, but I keep stroking him.
“Ozzy.” His whisper is raw. He wraps his hand around my dick, matching his movements to mine. For a while, we jerk each other, moaning softly and kissing.
His eyes are dark when he pulls away. “I need you to fuck me.”
The words are electric. I turn to get the lube as Kai rolls onto his stomach, pushing his hips up, offering himself. My cock aches as I work him open. In no time, he’s pushing back, trying to ride my hand.
“Feels so good.”
“Roll over, baby,” I say, sliding my fingers out. “Want to see your eyes.”
He raises his legs, and I crawl between them and line myself up. His groan when I push inside makes me shiver all over. The tight heat of him is incredible, and I pause, letting the moment settle while we both adjust. This is real.
“Love the way you feel around me,” I whisper. “It’s like you’re made for me.”
“Go deep, Ozzy.”
I start moving, a slow rhythm that builds with every thrust. Kai’s low groans are everything, and when I lick his ear, he locks his legs around my waist.
“Is this how you want it, baby?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
“Harder.”
I bite the tender flesh on his shoulder and whisper, “Need you so much.”
His moans go higher as I slam into him, both of us grunting with every hard thrust.
“More, Ozzy.”
We fall into a new, desperate rhythm. His head rolls back, and when he starts keening, the pressure builds inside me. I’m not ready for this to end. I may never be ready.
“Harder, please!” He digs his nails into my back, and I welcome the sting because it’s Kai.
“Gonna come soon,” I say.
“Me too.”
I’m railing him now, and we’re making a lot of noise. He has his gaze locked on mine, so intense that my eyes fill with tears. I’m fucking him so hard he can’t keep his legs up, so I grip his thighs and hold him open.
“Love this,” he chokes out.
“You’re everything.” The sharp feelings tear the words from me. “Need you… every day.”
“Fuck!” His body jerks as he paints us with his cum, and his cries push me over the edge. Yelling his name, I drive into him and freeze, shuddering with the force of my orgasm. It’s so intense I collapse, still shooting deep inside him.
Soon we go quiet, panting while our hearts hammer against each other’s chests. I’m still inside him, moaning with aftershocks. I wish we could stay like this forever.