Puck Prince (Houston Scythes Hockey #1)

42. Owen

42

OWEN

You have to promise you’re not going to freak out.

The text from Summer is not as encouraging as she might have hoped. I don’t usually have my phone during drills, especially when I’m leading practice before a game, but I’ve been checking constantly for any updates from Callie.

She’s frail and weak; I should’ve carried her over my shoulder to the car and driven her to the doctor. Knowing she’s resting in my bed is a mostly acceptable consolation, but still…

I pull my guard from my mouth. “Take five, guys.”

Dax grumbles something about “finally” and a “dictator,” but I’m already texting Summer back.

Owen: I make no promises. What’s going on?

I skate off the ice and head into the locker room.

Summer: Have you read the news today?

Owen: No, I’m at practice.

Summer: Good. Don’t.

I let out a heavy sigh before calling her. She picks up on the first ring.

“You’re calling me, which means you’re freaking out.”

“Because you’re being cryptic. Just get to the point. Are you okay? Is everything okay?” She must be okay since she’s texting me mysteries in the middle of the day. Still, with her baby daddy and Callie’s ex running around, I don’t want to be caught making assumptions.

“Yes and no.”

It takes me a second to puzzle that out. “So, you’re okay, but everything else isn’t?”

“I was going to text this and then ghost you for a few hours while you calmed down, but—” She groans. “Listen, it was just a little attempted break-in. No big deal.”

“What?” I jump up, already mentally mapping the fastest route between here and Summer’s apartment. “What happened? Who was it? Where’s Nicky? Why the fuck didn’t you call me? When?”

“Stop yelling at me! Jesus.” She sighs. “Nothing happened, okay? Someone tried to break in, but?—”

“That’s not nothing, Summer.”

“ But ,” she repeats, talking over me, “security stopped the guy before he did anything.”

She’s trying to make this less than it is. What the hell is it with these girls acting like predators are nothing?

“Guy? Singular?”

“From what I heard, but I wasn’t even home, O. I’m safe.”

For now .

It’s taking everything in my power not to completely lose my shit. “Summer, this is what I was talking about. This is why I need to know who Nicky’s dad is!”

“You don’t need to know or do anything at all. Everything is taken care of. You don’t need to worry.”

“That’s a little tough when you keep showing up at my place scared of the father of your child.” The words come out meaner than I want, but maybe it’s time for some tough love. “I’m paying for an apartment in a gated community just so you can sleep at night and there are still break-in attempts.”

“I never asked you to pay for my apartment.”

“No, but you should’ve!” I snap. “That’s the problem. You don’t ask for help even when you need it, which is why I’m fucking worried!”

There’s a beat of silence before she sighs. “I didn’t even want to say anything. I knew this is how you’d react.”

“Appropriately, you mean?”

“No, by being dramatic.” I can hear Nicky babbling in the background, which is oddly comforting. He’s okay. They are okay . “The only reason I told you is because I know about the three security guards you paid off to spy on me. They would’ve told you if I didn’t.”

“I did not hire three security guards.”

I hired four. They work in shifts.

She snorts. “This apartment complex is nice, but there’s no way in hell I pay enough in fees for them to afford a door man or security who park their black Escalades in front of the main office.”

I don’t say anything, and she goes on.

“Whatever. Either way, it was a false alarm.”

I pace back and forth in front of my locker. “A false alarm would be a rumor that someone tried to break in, but someone actually tried, Summer. This was real. What if they try again? Guys like this—they don’t stop”

“Guys like what, Owen?”

She is really, really grinding on every last nerve I have right now.

Lance pops his head into the locker room. “You coming, O?”

“Just…give me a second.” He frowns, and I cover the mouthpiece. “Emergency. You lead practice.”

He gives me a thumbs up, and I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Guys like our dads. Guys like the unbroken chain of assholes Mom dated. I know you weren’t around for most of it, but I was. I saw every one of them. Some of them left on their own, but a few of them, she had to kick to the curb. And if they weren’t ready to leave, they came back. They followed her. They stalked her, Summer. And when they finally got back in, it was bad.”

Filed away in the back of my mind is a memory I don’t open. Not when I can help it.

I can still hear the banging on the back door. The sound of the wood cracking under the force.

Drunken slurs, my mom crying, shattered glass.

“Owen…” Summer’s voice softens on my name. “I get what you’re saying, but this isn’t like that. I haven’t heard from my ex in a while. I don’t think this has anything to do with him.”

“And I don’t believe in coincidences. You can’t underestimate him.”

“I don’t. I won’t . I know you think my apple didn’t fall far from Mom’s tree, but I’m not her. I haven’t even wanted to date since Nicky was born. Taking care of him is all that matters to me. So, please, stop worrying.”

I don’t respond.

“Please?” She begs, and I can hear Nicky getting fussy in the background.

“I’ll stop worrying when I know who he is,” I finally say. “When I can stop him myself.”

“Goodbye, Owen.” Summer hangs up.

She might be pissed for a while, but at least she’ll be safe. I’m going to find out who he is and make sure he never bothers her again. I won’t stop until I do.

I grab my helmet and gloves and am heading for the door when Miles walks in.

“I know, I know.” I wave him back towards the hallway. “I’m coming back.”

He stops in the doorway, though. “Actually, I came to talk to you about something.”

“If this is about Dax, I’m working on it. That kid will learn to pass if I have to?—”

“No, it’s not about the game.” He scrubs a hand through his sweaty hair. “I was actually wondering if you saw the news lately.”

Jesus fucking Christ, does it ever end?

“I saw there was a break-in downtown, but my sister is safe. I’m dealing with it.”

Miles frowns and shakes his head slightly as he pulls out his phone. “No—the news about you.”

I narrow my eyes. “What news about me?”

I’m about to go the fuck off. I’ve been in bed with Callie or at practice all day, every day for the last week. There’s no news to tell unless it’s about the way Callie almost broke the sound barrier last night. She was so loud I couldn’t even hear my upstairs neighbor banging on the floor until we were both finished and catching our breath.

Miles holds out his phone. “I’ve been getting a dumpster truck of emails asking if I knew I wasn’t the only Scythes player expecting a baby.”

“Fuck. Who?” I visualize the line-up in my head. “We can spare you for paternity leave, but if there’s someone else, the season will be tanked. We’ve gotta get on some kind of fatherhood schedule.”

“Owen.” Miles arches both brows and jabs his finger at his screen. “They’re talking about you.”

I laugh at the insanity of it. “I’d know if I was having a baby. There hasn’t been anyone except?—”

Callie.

Her face fills Miles’s phone screen.

There’s a paparazzi photo of her walking down the street. She’s every bit as pale as she was this morning, but her hair is piled in a bun on top of her head, and she’s in real pants. She looks terrible. Beautiful, but terrible.

I should’ve taken her to the doctor.

Miles scrolls through the pictures, and I watch Callie walk down the sidewalk… past a sign for an OBGYN office.

Not the kind of doctor I was thinking of.

“When were these?—”

“Today,” Miles answers before I can even finish. “The emails started rolling in an hour ago.”

I take his phone, zooming in close enough I can see her individual pores just to be sure. I shake my head. “It’s a misunderstanding.”

“I don’t know, O. It looks like Callie.”

“It is Callie, but it’s not— There’s no way she’s pregnant.”

She probably got lost on her way to whatever family doctor she called. Or this has something to do with birth control. Is she on birth control? Not that it matters. I always wrap up.

“Bro, I get it. When Alisha showed me that stick, I was pretty freaked out. But I’ve kind of gotten used to?—”

“There’s no stick. She isn’t pregnant.”

Miles is quiet for a long time, and then… “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I say, even as the last few weeks start replaying in my head.

First, there’s the no drinking thing. I mean, a lot of people don’t drink. More power to them. But Callie went from downing a bottle of wine by herself to ordering nothing but Canada Dry.

Then there’s the nausea. She’s been sick. A lot.

No. No, she can’t be pregnant.

I count back days to the night we met—the same night we fucked. Three months. God, that feels like forever and nothing at the same time.

“Owen?” Miles asks.

I blink, shaking off the cobwebs in my brain. “Uh, I should go check on her. See if she’s— Has the story broke?”

“Nope. Just a bunch of people asking for comments so far. I’ll hold them off as long as I can.”

“Thanks, man. This is nothing, anyway. She isn’t—” I can’t quite force the words out this time. “Tell the guys I had to leave.”

Miles claps me on the shoulder and it feels a whole hell of a lot like condolences.

“Everything is fine,” I tell him as he heads for the door.

“It will be,” he says. “Either way, you’ll figure it out.”

Either way, I’ll fucking have to.