Puck Prince (Houston Scythes Hockey #1)

14. Callie

14

CALLIE

Or maybe not.

“God, Callie. Your face is everywhere!” Kennedy sits cross-legged on the couch, scrolling through her phone. I am in the kitchen making a sandwich.

Because I’m hungry. All the time.

Except when I’m nauseous, which is also, somehow, all the time.

Because I’m pregnant. The blood test said what the three stick tests had already told me:

I am very much pregnant and my life is very much over.

“It’s like you became an overnight celebrity,” she goes on. “Callie Coleman, Instant A-List. Just add, well, Owen Sharpe.”

She’s laughing, but I’m not. I just take a bite of my sandwich and count down in my head from ten so I don’t vomit it right back up.

“Look at this, though.” She shows me her phone. Sure enough, it is everywhere. From social media to actual news stations. Taglines range from “Owen Sharpe Has A New Love Interest” to “O’s New Hoe?!”

“I mean, most of it is about him,” I mumble in my own defense, cheeks red. “I’m just the girl he tackled outside of the apartment complex.”

Still, I wish I wasn’t in the photos. I am trying to lay low, too, for more reasons than I want or need anyone knowing about.

“He’s been single for a long time. Attacking a cute girl outside of his home is bound to be big news.”

“Okay, first of all, he’s not single.”

Kennedy lights up. “So, you two are involved? You bad girl!”

“What? No! I’ve seen him with another girl.”

She sets her phone down and squints at me. “As in, like, flirting with girls at work or bringing someone home or…?”

“Bringing someone home. Or, she just shows up. I don’t know who she is.”

“I’ve never seen anyone come around, and I’ve lived here for a while, Cal. Are you sure it’s not just?—?”

“Yes. I’ve seen her. The night I—” I lower my voice to a whisper for no good reason at all. “—hooked up with him, she was getting there just as I left. Like it was timed. Or like he was trying not to get caught.”

Kennedy just stares at me, eyes still narrowed. “I’ve literally never seen a girl go in and out of there. Which, now that I say it, is odd as fuck. That man could get any girl he wants.”

“I ran into her again after that. In the parking lot. He was walking her to her car when I pulled up. And she was there the day these pictures were taken.”

“Wait, wait, wait. She was there?”

“Yes! She was headed in as he was headed out.”

“And what were you doing?”

“I had a… a doctor’s appointment. Bottom line is, I don’t think he’s single.”

She flips through her phone again. “I don’t see anything about a girlfriend. Like nowhere. Not one picture. The only thing I see when I look him up… is you.” She cackles, then looks at me. “Sorry. Okay, but for real: How do you know it’s not just a friend with benefits thing? Boy’s gotta be frustrated. Maybe he likes to keep it consistent. Someone he knows won’t go broadcasting that she bagged Owen Sharpe.”

“She has a baby,” I blurt out.

It feels like a betrayal of a fellow baby mama. She and I should form a club: Women Impregnated by Owen Sharpe.

Kennedy’s eyes go wide. “Shut. Up.”

“It’s true. She’s had a baby with her every time. One of the times, he was carrying it.”

Kennedy thinks about that. “That’s some wild shit. But it still doesn’t track.”

“I don’t know all the answers, Ken. I just know he’s hiding things.” Considering what I’m hiding, I’m sitting on a very high, very precarious horse. But that is also not the point.

My phone buzzes with a text from my uncle. Dread fills my stomach like battery acid.

“Oh, God,” I mumble.

Kennedy looks down at my phone and winces. “Uh-oh. You think he pays attention to gossip?”

I click on the text?—

Come into my office first thing tomorrow. We need to talk.

“I am going to take that as a yes,” she grimaces.

Fuck.

My.

Life.

And while we’re at it… fuck Owen Sharpe for ruining it.

I learned after my first day that gym pants and tank tops with athletic shoes work much better than pencil skirts and busty blouses. So, today, on what might be my last day walking into the arena, I’m wearing black joggers and a plum Athleta shirt.

My hair is tied back. No lipstick.

Just business.

I make my rounds, saying hello to everyone as if nothing has happened. As if I’m not all over social media. People smile and nod back, but their faces tell me they’ve seen it all. The whispers follow me down the hall towards the training room.

I should pay attention to the text burning a hole in my pocket right now. My uncle is nice, but he’s got a temper, and it’s not the patient kind.

But, speaking of patients, I’ve got a 7:00 A.M. scheduled for me, for which I’m secretly grateful. Can’t get my ass chewed out by the boss if I’m busy doing my job, right?

Lachlan rolled his ankle leaving a bar two days ago and wants to make sure it’s safe to skate on. Perfect excuse to put off talking to my uncle. At least for an hour or so.

I tidy up my workspace while I wait for Lachlan. Meanwhile, several other guys from the team are working out. I look down at my watch. 7:15. Maybe he forgot. Maybe he’s hungover again.

Maybe I’ll have to go see my uncle sooner than I thought.

I sigh.

“Trouble in paradise?” A guy doing pull-ups hops down and turns around.

“Remind me which one you are again.”

He grins. “Miles.”

“Right. Sorry, I’m still getting to know?—”

“That’s alright. I know who you are. I mean, I think half the world knows who you are now.”

Turns out, I might actually prefer the whispers behind my back.

“It’s not what it looks like. Owen was just helping me get away from the cameras that are obviously hounding him and?—”

“You don’t have to defend yourself to me. Though I think Coach might be a little concerned.”

“And I’ll deal with that when?—”

“When you stop ignoring my texts?” My uncle’s voice booms from behind me. I close my eyes before turning around, forcing a smile on my face.

“I wasn’t ignoring you. I had an early patient and?—”

“My office. Now.” My uncle’s voice isn’t loud. It isn’t angry. Just stern. And from my childhood experiences, I know that is far, far worse.

I follow him, tail between my legs. I don’t dare look at the curious eyes gawking at me in the halls, either. If people weren’t staring and talking before, they sure as hell are now.

He closes the office door and wordlessly gestures for me to sit. There is a beat of silence, and I can feel everything boiling up before he lets it explode.

“Callie.”

“I know—” I start to say, but he holds a hand up.

“What in the actual fuck were you thinking?”

I shake my head. “I was just headed to the doctor. Owen came out of nowhere and?—”

“We are on the home page of every news site right now. Have you seen the pictures and videos?”

“There were videos?” I wince.

“A supposed fling between my star player and his new PT! Who also happens to be my niece!” He tosses his hands up in defeat. “I stuck my neck out to get you this job, Cal. And what do you do first chance you get? How do you repay that? You fuck off into the bushes with Owen Sharpe for all the world to watch! Jesus fucking Christ, Callie!”

“Okay, first of all,” I rush to my own defense, “we didn’t fuck off into the bushes. He pulled me inside the complex?—”

“Right, because that’s so much better. Thank you for clarifying that. Case closed.”

“It’s not what it looks like, Uncle Randy.” I stand up, too antsy to stay planted in the seat like a sitting duck.

“Oh, really?” He yanks his phone out. “Because if you look on any social media or news platform, what it looks like is my PT and my center are about to get it on.”

“Uncle Randy!” Tears brim in my eyes. “I am not involved with Owen Sharpe.”

“Then what is going on? You look sick. You’re sneaking around. I—” He sighs, leaning his elbows on the desktop. “I took a risk hiring you, honey. You’re good at your job, and you know I love you, but I can’t— I won’t risk my reputation as a coach and the reputation of my team if you’re going to be careless.”

“I promise you I am not being careless. And I’m just… stressed. That’s all,” I lie. Though it’s not a lie entirely. I am stressed. “Owen lives next to Kennedy. So I run into him once in a while. But that’s it. The press has been hounding him, coming to the complex to try to make something out of nothing. I just happened to get caught in the crossfire.”

Uncle Randy studies my pleading eyes, but he doesn’t seem to buy it. It hurts, even if I can’t entirely blame him.

“I don’t know, Callie. You know I am a man of second chances, but this was your second chance. And right now, I see the integrity of my team unraveling. If you are going to casually date my players, which goes so far against the rules?—”

“I’m not casually dating Owen Sharpe!” I cut in, but he talks right over me.

“If the higher-ups want to fire you for it, I won’t stand in their way.”

My chin is visibly quivering. “You’d let them fire me over a couple videos of me and Owen running into each other outside the complex we live in? That’s insane.”

“No, Cal, what’s insane is that you have been given another shot in this sports medicine industry, and you’ve managed to throw it away in less than two weeks.”

I have no idea what to say. I gawk at my uncle, frozen. I open my mouth to say something, anything. Speak, Callie, for the love of God.

I open my mouth to do exactly that…

When suddenly, the door flies open so hard it hits the wall, making me jump and my uncle swing around defensively.

“We aren’t casually dating,” Owen announces as he stalks in. At first, based on the rage on his face, I think he is going to go chest to chest with Coach. Not a smart thing to do, per se, but a very Owen thing to do.

“The hell are you doing just barging in here, Sharpe?” Uncle Randy growls at him.

Based on the red crawling up Owen’s neck and the tension in his shoulders, I think he’s about to go chest-to-chest with my uncle. I also think I need to talk to him about stretching more. He looks way too tight.

Instead, Owen stops next to me. “I’m clearing up the rumors that Callie and I are just messing around.”

“Thank you,” I mumble. “We?—”

“We’re together.”

“Wait, what ?” I blurt out.

He turns to me, his eyes locked on mine. “They already saw the videos, babe. It’s obvious. Might as well come clean. It’s not a fling. This thing between us is real.”

It takes me all of two seconds to realize what he’s doing. And as much as I know it’s a really stupid idea, I am stuck.

It’s this or the unemployment line. This or shame. This or no more chances.

So I do the only thing I can do.

I play along.

“Yeah.” I turn back to my uncle, hoping I don’t look as wide-eyed as I feel. “Yep, he’s right.”

My uncle studies us. After a long, hard moment that makes me want to throw up, he shakes his head. “Bullshit.”

“What?” I ask.

“I call bullshit. Sharpe isn’t the serious type, and I know you better than to believe you’d go out with a guy like?—”

Before my uncle can finish the sentence, Owen wraps his arm around me and pulls me against his hard body just like he did in the photographs. But this time, his mouth covers mine.

If he wasn’t holding onto me, I’d probably be on the ground right now. Between shock and confusion, along with the way this man’s tongue sneakily finds mine when our lips are locked, I can’t seem to think a single rational thought.

So I simply give in, melting into Owen. Leaning into the warm press of his mouth and the cinnamon scent of his skin.

Of all the ways to get fired, this has to be one of the best.

When he finally pulls away, it feels like a magnet has been ripped from my lips. He keeps his eyes on mine, ignoring Coach entirely.

“I’ll see you after practice, babe.”

Then he turns and saunters out.