Puck Prince (Houston Scythes Hockey #1)

34. Owen

34

OWEN

“You want to borrow some clothes? Maybe a t-shirt or something?”

I don’t want her to put on a damn thing, but it seems like I should offer.

I’m drying off after we “showered” together. Meanwhile, Callie is sifting through her clothes on the floor.

“It’s alright. I’m just going next door.” She slips into her underwear.

I tie the towel around my waist. “Oh. You’re leaving?”

“I mean, I figured I should…”

“I thought you wanted to stay.”

Callie’s cheeks are actually pink. Her makeup is gone and a small spray of tiny freckles dances across her nose. I’ve never noticed those before. She looks great done up. She looks amazing when she’s undone.

“I guess I just assumed that you’d want me to leave. You know, since we…” She points awkwardly at the shower. “And since last time?—”

I close the space between us, cupping her cheeks in my palms. “This isn’t like last time.”

She studies me, swallowing hard. I want to kiss her again. But I also want her to answer. To not feel pressured.

I want her to feel safe.

“Okay,” she breathes.

“But only if you want to,” I add.

“I do.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll grab you a clean shirt then.” I walk into my closet. “What would you like? I’ve got jerseys, jerseys, more jerseys…” I hear her giggle from the bedroom and it makes me smile. “Hoodies. Crewnecks. Also, did I mention I have jerseys?”

“A t-shirt is fine.”

“One Downy fresh t-shirt, coming right up.” I yank it off the hanger and toss it to her. Callie just stares at me, a cute smile on her lips. “What’s that look for?”

“You use fabric softener?” She pulls the shirt over her head.

“Of course. I might be a hockey player, but I am civilized.”

She picks up a candle off my nightstand and smells it. “Civilized or domesticated?”

“You take that back.” My voice is low, but my lips are tipped in a smile.

Callie tilts the candle in my direction. “Lavender? Really? I rest my case.”

I leap onto the bed and roll on top of her. She shrieks, falling back. I straddle her, my hands on either side of her head. “Take it back or I’ll do heinous things to you.”

“Never. Do your worst.”

I grab her hands, pinning them down to the mattress and lean into her, my lips brushing hers. “Take… it… back.”

Callie lifts her chin and kisses me.

I melt into her. After a moment, before I can get painfully hard again, I roll off her. “Fine. You win that round.”

I head back to my closet and tug on a pair of gym shorts before I join her on the bed. She’s looking at a photo I have of Summer and Nicky.

“That was the day he was born,” I explain.

She touches Nicky’s face. “I didn’t notice it last time.”

“We were slightly distracted. And drunk. And it was dark. And?—”

“And we hooked up and didn’t talk much.”

“Yeah. Also that.”

Callie sets the frame back down and looks around the rest of the room. She seems relaxed now, but I can’t forget the fear in her eyes earlier tonight.

I scratch my head. I don’t want to ruin the moment, but questions are burning holes in my brain.

“So are you going to tell me what happened back there?”

Her eyes slice over to mine. “In the hall? Those guys scared me, that’s all.”

“Enough to want to stay the night at my house?”

“Kennedy has a tendency to bring guys over after parties like that,” she says vaguely. “I guess I didn’t want to witness it.”

She offers a thin smile.

I don’t buy it for a fucking second.

“What happened at Pour Boys? Who did you see?”

“Nobody.”

“Callie.” She won’t look at me, but her chin wobbles at the sound of her name. “You said you saw someone. And obviously, it upset you.”

She shifts on the bed a little, her lip pinched between her teeth. There’s something going on and I want to know what it is. I can’t stand to see her like this. Like she’s afraid.

It makes me want to do terrible things to whoever scared her.

“At my last job, I told myself I wasn’t going to get involved with any hockey players,” she finally starts, her eyes still cast down at her knotted fingers in her lap. “I wanted to be professional and respected. I also didn’t trust them. No offense, but hockey players have a reputation.”

“None taken.”

“But then I met this guy, and… he seemed different. He was sweet. Attractive. While other guys on the team were going through girls like KT tape, he made me feel special.”

I don’t know who he is, but I hate him already.

“Then one night, he got injured at a game. I spent hours helping him heal. It was a lot of one-on-one time, a lot of pain and vulnerability. Eventually, when he recovered, he asked if I’d let him buy me dinner. Just as a thank you,” she adds with a snort and an eyeroll. “I said yes. I figured if he could let his walls down with me while I saw him at his worst, I could lower my guard a little, too. After all, it’s just sushi and saki right?”

“Sure.” It all sounds normal enough, but I’m holding my breath.

“After the date, which went amazing, he asked if he could kiss me. Again, I said yes. And the night ended there. I felt like he was truly different. Like, maybe it would be okay if we dated. In my head, as long as we didn’t keep it a secret, we weren’t breaking any rules and there was no scandal.”

“Makes sense.”

But Callie hugs her knees against her chest, and I can tell the story is about to take a turn.

“Well, the next time I saw him, I told him that if we were going to keep seeing each other, we needed to make it known to HR and the staff. He didn’t like that idea and asked if we could wait. So we waited. And waited. And then one day, while I was cleaning up my office after a game, he came in and closed the door. It was obvious what he wanted, but I wasn’t ready.”

Her eyes are brimming with tears.

Meanwhile, my mind is brimming with anger. I know where this is going.

“He got… aggressive.” She pauses, debating whether to say more. “Then he told me the whole thing was just a bet with the team about who could get me to sleep with them first.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I explode. I’ve been trying not to lose my shit, but I am kind of losing my shit. I get up and pace the room.

“Nope,” she sniffles. “So I left. My career was destroyed. The media was getting their hands on it, and I knew I had to get away and start over. I’ve avoided him since, but?—”

I stop pacing, my eyes on the ground. I feel like I already know the answer to the next question, but I’m going to ask it anyway.

“But you saw him tonight, at Pour Boys. That’s why you were so afraid? That’s why you ran out and why you wanted to stay the night here? Because he’s stalking you?”

Callie answers with a meek nod.

I ball my fists. “Who is he?”

“Owen, I don’t want?—”

“Okay, fine. Don’t tell me his name. But which one was he?”

She hesitates.

I give her a hard look.

“He was dancing with Kennedy.”

I rack my brain, trying to better remember what the guy looked like. Unfortunately, I was so enamored by Callie’s body against mine, drunk on her pheromones, that I didn’t give the guy a second glance.

Fuck.

“Does she know?”

“No.”

“Is she with him now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think she’d go home with him? Do you think he’d come home with her? Here?” I look at the wall that separates my apartment from Kennedy’s, and that fucker better pray he isn’t over there. “Because I will knock that motherfucker into?—”

“Owen.” The crack in her voice stops me. “I don’t know. I just couldn’t be there anymore, and I didn’t feel safe going home and—” Her breath hitches. She’s starting to panic. Maybe starting to cry.

I climb back onto the bed and pull her against me. “I’m sorry. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m sorry.”

I hold her—that task now the most important thing in the world to me. She sinks into my body.

I lean back against the headboard, and Callie cuddles into my bare chest.

“I’m sorry I got so worked up,” I say after a long moment. “I’m just… too used to assholes that think they can do whatever they want. I’m over it. Especially when someone I care about is the victim.”

Callie doesn’t say anything.

So I go on. Because she just poured herself out to me. Because she is terrified and has been carrying that fear around by herself for a while now, and I feel like I owe it to her to be real with her, too.

“My mom went through a lot of guys. It started with my dad, who got her pregnant and dipped. And then she just went down the line, one piece of shit after the next. There were times it felt like our door was open to every schmuck that walked by. They’d come in for a night cap, things got… well, you know. And then they were gone.”

“So she never actually dated? They were all just one-and-done?” Callie asks. Then she looks up at me quickly. “Sorry, I didn't mean to paint your mom that way. I just meant it must have been hard for you.”

“It was. She dated some of them for a bit, but it always got abusive and then it never lasted long. One of them resulted in Summer and, for all of two seconds, I thought maybe we’d have a family. But my mom wasn’t really wired for that. He left, taking Summer with him. It was like that over and over and over while I grew up. I threw myself into sports, into school, into anything that got me out of the house and took my mind off what was happening on the other side of my bedroom walls.”

Callie props herself up on my chest and looks at me. “I’m sorry you went through that.”

“Don’t be. I got out. And when I got out, I made two promises to myself.”

“What were they?”

“That I would reconnect with Summer and make sure she was okay. And that I would never, no matter what, be that kind of man.”

There is a beat of silence before I go on.

“I want to find him,” I growl. “Whoever the guy is who hurt you. He can’t get away with any of this.”

She looks panicked. “Please don’t. I don’t want you getting in any more trouble, and I just… I want to just put it to bed.”

“Oh, I’ll put him to bed. I’ll put him in the goddamn ground while I’m at it.”

She presses a hand to my heart. “Owen, you already have your sister and nephew to take care of. You don’t need to worry about me, too. Promise me you won’t.”

I don’t say anything, but she snuggles back into me. It takes all of five minutes before her breathing becomes rhythmic and even. I know she is out.

I slip out from underneath her and throw on a t-shirt.

Before I leave, I cover her with a blanket and brush her hair from her face.

“I’m sorry, Callie Coleman. But I won’t make promises I can’t keep.”

I knock on Kennedy’s door and wait. I don’t know if she’s home. I don’t know if he’s with her. If so, cool. Two birds, one baseball bat.

For the second bird, anyway.

I knock again before hearing rustling inside. “Hang on a second. I’m coming!” The door opens and Kennedy’s face shifts from annoyed to shocked to amused. “Well, if it isn’t Hockey Boy? Wait. If you’re here, where is?—?”

“She’s asleep in my apartment.”

“You wore her out, didn’t you?” She crosses her arms.

My God. Does salty and spice and nothing too nice run in this whole fucking family?

“Sure. Listen,” I say, “I need to ask you a question.”

“She’s a five. Pretty sure.”

I squint. “A five what?”

“Ring size.”

My jaw hits the ground. “What? No. Jesus Christ, Kennedy.”

“I was only kidding! Sort of. So what’s your question?” She is in a cropped t-shirt and cotton shorts, and her hair is in a messy bun. She’s also got the aftermath of one of those nasty face masks on her nose which tells me exactly two things?—

She’s ready for bed…

And she’s alone.

Good.

“Who were you dancing with tonight?”

“Really? That’s why you dipped out of a round two with Callie? To ask about my love life? You really did get hit hard at the last game.”

“Just tell me who he was,” I snarl.

“Easy, Hockey Boy. Sheesh. If you’re talking about the guy with the black hair and the whole Clark Kent thing going on…” She purses her lips. “Then I couldn’t tell you.”

My heart swoops in my chest. “You didn’t catch his name?”

“Nope. He was just some rando that wanted to dance and had a nice enough smile to convince me it was a good idea.”

“Did you see who he was with? What group he was hanging around with? Anything at all before you left?”

“God, what is this, a police interrogation? Why do you care?”

I brace my hands against the door frame. “Please, Kennedy. I just need to know.”

She shrugs. “He left before I did. I got nothing for ya. Sorry, slugger.”

“When exactly did he leave?”

“Right after Callie ran out.”

My stomach falls another three floors. She must see it, because her mouth turns down at the corners a little. “Why? Do you know him?”

I don’t know what I should or shouldn’t say. But I do know I want Callie to be okay, and I need help with that. “Can I come in?”

Kennedy seems to think about it for a second before she holds the door open for me. “Sure.”

She drops onto the couch, pulling a blanket onto her lap, and I sit at the far end. “Whoever that guy was, I think he knows Callie. And I don’t trust him.”

“Well, look at you being all protective. You really do like her, don’t you?”

I don’t know how to answer that. So I don’t. “I just don’t want to see her get hurt, that’s all. I’m actually kind of worried about her. Tonight, after we… well, anyway, she told me about her past. About what happened at her last job. I feel like she didn’t tell me everything, but she did say the guy was bad news. She’s afraid of him.”

“Yeah.” Kennedy nods with a frown. “Callie is one of those people who gives others the benefit of the doubt. She’s a good person, so she naturally assumes other people are, too. I love her to pieces ,but she needs to knock that shit off. A lot of people in this world are shitty.”

“I feel you on that.”

“I thought you might.” She squints at me like she’s seeing something new in my face. “She needs a good guy, Owen. A sweet guy who will take care of her and protect her. She needs to feel safe. Because when she does, she will give all of herself. And only the best of the best of the best deserves that from her.”

I offer a tight smile. She’s not wrong: Callie does deserve the best. I don’t know if I can do that—if I can be that for her. After all, we aren’t actually dating. I keep having to remind myself of that recently.

We aren’t together. This isn’t real.

I know that.

What I also know is that I want to keep her safe. I want to make sure no one ever hurts her again.

Not even me.