Puck Prince (Houston Scythes Hockey #1)

28. Callie

28

CALLIE

We embrace like we’ve done this a million times before, instead of only once. Though the one time was a real banger. I have the bun in the oven to prove it.

As the music rises, we sway, Owen’s hands strong on my hips. “Having a good time?”

“To my surprise, yes,” I admit. “I was worried it would be chaotic or feel like work, but it’s been really nice.”

“Well, I’m glad. I like that you can have a good time without alcohol. I feel like all anyone ever does in the sports industry is drink. It gets a little old.”

What he doesn’t know is I’d kill for a cranberry vodka right now.

But there are a lot of things he doesn’t know.

“Are you having fun?” I ask in return.

“I don’t know if ‘fun’ is the right word. I can think of a million other places I’d rather go on a Friday night. None of them include pulling out the starchiest thing in my closet and peacocking around a venue sipping on Dom Perignon ,” he says, mimicking Alisha’s voice on the last part.

I giggle. “Are you not a fan of Miles’ fiancée?”

Owen sucks his teeth, deciding how to answer that. “It’s not that I don’t like her. It just feels… off to me. Like, here’s this guy who I have always known to be kind of wild and free-spirited and all of a sudden he’s ready to trade in his skates for a microphone and some hair gel, all the while putting a rock on his recent girlfriend’s finger? I don’t know. It just feels?—”

“Staged.”

Owen looks at me strangely. “Yeah. Staged. Maybe a little. I just don’t think that people should rush things like that. Even if it does get the press off your back.”

There’s a beat of silence before he goes on. “Speaking of staged… Did you know you’re the first girl I’ve ever brought as a date to one of these events?”

“You’re lying.”

I happen to know there are countless women who would crawl through the ductwork for the chance to dance with Owen Sharpe.

Owen laughs. “I’m not. Scout’s Honor. This is a first for me, walking in through those doors with a girl on my arm.” He must not buy my expression, because he asks, “What’s that face?”

“Nothing. You’re just becoming less and less of who I thought you were.”

“Really. And who is it you thought I was, Callie Coleman?”

We float around the floor as I think on how to answer that question. “I’ve been around athletes for… a while,” I say slowly. “It’s not easy being in this industry as a woman. Especially the medical side where the lines of personal and professional get blurry. I’m used to dealing with a lot.”

Understatement of the century, but again… what Owen doesn’t know can’t be used to judge me.

“I’m sure you are.”

“I was pretty convinced that all hockey players are, well… players. But you’ve proven me wrong.”

Owen lets out a low, gritty laugh, and my stomach does a somersault. “I guess I just always saw this as a serious event. Not the kind of thing you bring a one-off date to. And I haven’t had a lot of… romance… in my life.”

“Really? A suave guy like you?”

He rolls his eyes, but with a smile. “I’ve had more important things to focus on. Like hockey. And?—”

“Protecting your sister?”

We are dancing close and our voices are low so no one can overhear. Something in Owen’s face softens before he goes on. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course.”

“It’s not just that she’s my sister, and I’m puffing my chest like a hot-headed baboon. It’s… it’s deeper than that.” He pauses, like he’s about to raise the blinds on a window he usually keeps shut. “My childhood was… I was going to say, ‘a shitshow, for lack of a better word.” But honestly, there isn’t a better word. It was a shitshow.”

“I get that.”

My other hand is in his, and I find myself stroking my thumb over his.

“My mom was with a lot of men. Like, a lot,” he doubles down. “More than I can count. And none of them were good guys. I saw her go through a lot. Kids often end up getting hurt in the process of things like that, you know?”

“Yeah,” I whisper softly. “I do.”

“I got in the way a couple times. I wanted to protect her. I think she was just lonely and wanted someone to love her, but she wasn’t picking the right guys.” He pushes his hair back from his forehead. “I have this scar on my forehead from the time I tried to pull a guy off of her in the kitchen. He was a monster of a man in every way—size and nature—and he just grabbed me by my shirt and chucked me. I bashed my face on the corner of the counter. That’s when I realized I probably needed to start going to the gym.”

Owen chuckles like he’s trying to make it into a joke, but my heart aches for him.

I reach for the scar and run my finger across the jagged edge.

Our eyes meet, holding each other hostage.

Once the moment becomes too heavy to bear, I bring my hand away. “I understand. I’ve been hurt before, too.”

“I’m sorry.” He says it like he really means it.

“I’m sorry, too.”

He shivers and shrugs like that’ll ward off the memories. “It is what it is. I can’t change the past, but I can try to keep Summer from falling into the same pattern. I don’t want her to end up like our mom. And I want a better life for Nicky than I had. Sometimes, I feel guilty.”

“Why?”

“Because I never reached out to Summer when I was a teenager. I knew she was out there. I knew she probably didn’t have the best life. But I never bothered to try to have a relationship with her until we were older. By that time, she’d already started dating dickheads.”

“That’s not your fault, Owen.”

He looks down at where our hips brush together. “Then whose is it?”

“I’m going to tell you a secret,” I announce.

“A secret?” His lips scrunch to the side in a smirk. “Like, a real one, or an ‘I’m not wearing any underwear’ kind of secret?”

I pretend to think about it. “Well, the second one isn’t much of a secret. Do you see any panty lines?”

Laughing, he spins me out for a twirl while obviously ogling my ass. When I come pirouetting back into his arms, his eyes are gleaming. “I like your secrets.”

My face falls, though. “That secret is more fun than what I was actually gonna say.”

He softens again as he tucks me back into his embrace. We sink back into the rhythm of the slow dance. “The floor is yours.”

I launch into it before I lose my nerve. “I didn’t know what it felt like to be loved until I moved in with my Uncle Randy. My mom was a habitual cheater who cared more about who she was dating than me. My ‘dad’ wasn’t even my biological dad, and he dipped when he found out. I felt like I didn’t even have a dad until my uncle. It was the first time I had a father figure who cared. It’s why I changed my last name. I took my mom’s maiden name, not because it was hers, but because it was my uncle’s. People think I did it to get ahead in the industry or something, but really…”

“It’s who you feel like you are,” Owen finishes for me. “It’s where you belong.”

“Yeah,” I say in a whisper. “That’s exactly what it’s like.”

We sway to the music, growing closer and closer with every step. I almost rest my head on his shoulder, until he asks, “Now, can I tell you a secret?”

I pull back.

“I knew this color would look incredible on you.”

His voice is low. Deep.

His palm is warm on my back, guiding me effortlessly across the floor. It shouldn’t shock me that a hockey player can be this light on his feet. He knows what he’s doing. And the way his mouth pulls into a teasing fraction of a smirk, I think he knows what he’s doing to me, too. I’m hot all over.

His right hand comes up to my shoulder, his fingertips brushing across my collarbone. “Everything about you looks incredible tonight, actually.”

I don’t have words for that.

He’s talking too softly for anyone else to hear, so is this for our audience? Is he fooling me? Fooling himself?

Or the scariest option of all: what if he’s not pretending?

I mentally anchor my heart in my chest, so it doesn’t float away into the clouds.

Owen’s thumb ghosts over my bottom lip. “I like your lip gloss.”

“It’s called Kissable Pink.”

“And is it?”

“Is it what?”

“Kissable?”

He leans down. I stretch to meet him. Our lips are close, so close, so unbelievably?—

“Hey, sorry to interrupt, but…” Lance appears behind Owen, putting his hand on his shoulder. We both jump apart. “Coach needs you.”

I stumble on my heels, trying to look like I don’t need Owen’s body against mine to keep me upright.

“Now?” Owen seems just as staggered.

“Yeah, sorry. Duty calls when you have the prettiest face on the team.”

Owen drags his hand over his jaw before relinquishing his grip on me. With one final knee-quaking look at me, he follows Lance.

They head towards the stage and start talking with a member of the PR team. If Owen is going to be on stage or something, I should probably stay and watch.

Or… I could go grab some punch, maybe a plate of food. The eclairs look good. This baby has a sweet tooth, that’s for sure.

But first, I need air.

I need to clear my head. I slip off of the dance floor as everyone else is making their way towards the stage, champagne in hand. I pick my way through the crowd and sneak out the back door towards the bathrooms. I don’t feel sick—for once—I just need to think.

Or not think.

It might be best if I don’t think about how easy it is to dance with Owen… talk with Owen… laugh with Owen. It’s like we’ve been doing this for years and years already. I shouldn’t think about how natural it feels to be in his arms. Like we’ve had past lives, hundreds of them, and we found each other in every single one.

Even here, in a gala filled with millionaires, I didn’t feel out of place. Not because I saw myself in the other wives and girlfriends and plus-one dates—so many of them seemed to be in it for the money, fame, status, or some juicy combo of the three—but because it feels right to be at his side.

He almost kissed me. I wanted him to kiss me. And the way he acted when Lance pulled him away, I knew he felt the same way I did—like the world was bumped off its axis and we lost our balance.

I’m pretty sure he wanted to kiss me, too.

“Oh my God, Callie. Stop. It’s not real.” I stare in the bathroom mirror, trying to scare myself into rational thought with a scowl. It’s funny how often I have to remind myself of that. We are just very good at faking this, and that is all.

So good, in fact, I think we have ourselves convinced we might be something more. It’s insane.

“You have to stop.”

Speaking of insanity, talking to myself in the bathroom mirror when I didn’t even check to make sure the bathroom was empty first is the height of it.

I need to get out of here and back to the performance. I should be out there supporting Owen the way he has supported me. For one, I know that’s what my uncle would want. It’s important for his reputation as the Scythes head coach for people to see Owen and me in a respectable situation together, making it obvious we are doing things the right way.

I take a deep breath and reapply my tinted lip gloss.

Kissable Pink. Jesus Christ, Callie.

I tuck it away and fix my expression into something effortless and relaxed and not at all worried about accidentally falling into bed with my fake date at the end of the night, and then I slip out of the bathroom en route back to the main event space. But just as I am about to grab the door to the ballroom, a hand reaches out and snags me by the arm.

“Callie! I was hoping to run into you.”

“M-Miles,” I stutter out. My eyes dart around the hallway, but we are alone, his fiancée nowhere in sight. “What are… What are you doing out here? I mean, shouldn’t you be inside for the ceremony?”

“Nah. They don’t need me for this part. It’s mostly about your boy toy anyway. I just come for the free booze and food. And the pretty girls.”

I shield myself with a tight hug around my body. I offer a smile, but I know my wide eyes say it all. “You would know a pretty girl when you see one, wouldn’t you?”

“Caught me. I’ve been staring all night. You look unreal.”

Dread sinks in my stomach. “I meant your fiancée. Where is Alisha, by the way?”

“Where girls always run off to—the bathroom.”

I glance back. No, she isn’t. Because I was in there alone.

Kind of like we are alone right now.

I maintain my thin smile while the alarms in my head blare. “I should get back. If Owen is presenting the check, he really should have my support.”

I reach again for the handle, but before I can pull it open, Miles slaps his hand on the door, barring it shut again. “You’re such a good girlfriend.” He’s towering over me. I can smell the whiskey on his breath. “That’s what you are, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry?” I don’t understand the question. But now that I know this escape route is off-limits, I let go and back away.

“His girlfriend—is that what you are? I mean, how long have you even known each other?”

“Long enough.”

I take another few steps back as he matches me move for move.

“Long enough to be exclusive?” He bobs his head back and forth, considering his own question. “I’m not sure about that. It seems new to me.”

With that, my jaw tightens, and I stand straighter. “I don’t think it’s any of your business. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

I turn to stride towards the side exit I know is just at the end of the hall, but just as I’m about to bolt away, Miles grabs my wrist. In a second, he yanks me back and pins me to the wall by my arms.

“Except that I’d like to make it my business.”

The false calm in his voice is gone, replaced with something sharp and menacing.

I’ve heard it before. In Spencer .

Between one blink and the next, I’m back in that empty training room, blinking into the dim lights. I feel the hands on my biceps like iron cuffs, impossible to break or run from. I can hear the echo of my own empty screams.

Tears well in my eyes, and I should scream now. I should make noise, get someone’s attention.

But I am too scared to utter a peep.

“You know, Callie, I think this is all a game to you. And it’s a very dangerous game.”

For the love of God, Callie—scream.

Suddenly, the ballroom door opens. Miles jumps back several feet and wipes his hands on his pants as Uncle Randy stops in the doorway, looking between us. Lance is doing the same thing from over his shoulder.

“Callie?” my uncle asks. “What’s going?—?”

But I don’t let him finish the question before pushing past all of them. “Excuse me, please.” I manage to mumble before slipping back into the ballroom. “Owen needs me.”