Puck Prince (Houston Scythes Hockey #1)

51. Callie

51

CALLIE

“Alright, girl. Where we goin’?” Kennedy drums the steering wheel like we’re off on some Thelma and Louise adventure instead of being discharged from the hospital.

Even if my quasi-boyfriend and father of my baby hadn’t just dumped me mid-hospital stay, I still would’ve needed a ride home.

One, I don’t have my car. And two, I’m still in a lot of pain.

Because I’m pregnant I can’t have the normal pain meds they’d normally prescribe to someone who’d been hit by a truck, so I’m kind of just zombie-ing around for now.

But where I’m zombie-ing off to is the question.

I have the keys to my new apartment in my hand, but it’s nowhere near as satisfying as I imagined it would be. Turns out, I might like it when Owen keeps keys from me, after all.

“I don’t know.” I run my thumb along the inside of the key ring. I didn’t tell her what happened with Owen, only that we got in a fight.

Kennedy studies me as tears start to run down my swollen cheeks. Normally, she’d be the sobbing mess right now. Kennedy is known for big feels energy. But since she showed up yesterday and found me weeping alone in my hospital room, she’s been the collected one. Which is nice because I feel like I’ve been shoved through a meat grinder, emotionally and physically.

Kennedy to the rescue.

“Alright, let’s weigh the options. If we go to your new place, it’s just that: new. You get to start over. We get the place furnished and decorated. It’ll be a nest for you and the munchkin. We can do anything you want with it, Callie. We can?—”

“I can’t go back there,” I cut her off. She waits while I come up with reasons that aren’t Owen-related. “It’s too far away. From you. From him. From everything familiar. I feel untethered enough right now. I need familiar. Plus, it has… memories.”

“Of what? Of Owen?” She arches her brows. “How can it have memories of Owen? You’ve only been there once and—oh my god. Did you guys fuck on the kitchen counter already?”

“Of course not!” I blurt out before hesitantly admitting the truth. “We fucked in the closet.”

Kennedy covers her mouth as a laugh escapes. “Of course you did…”

I smile, but it hurts everywhere. Even my heart.

“Alright, we’ll back burner the new digs for a bit. Option number two—my personal favorite—is for you to come home with me. We can have Owen box up anything that you left at his place and set it by the door. No contact necessary. Alright?”

It’s not great, but it’s the best option I have. I manage a nod, dabbing my eyes with a tissue.

She throws the car into drive. “Out of sight, out of mind.”

If only it were that simple.

Just like our sleepovers growing up, Kennedy piles every pillow she owns on the couch and orders Chinese food—sesame tofu for her and egg drop soup for me. As we eat, I tell her everything.

“He wasn’t who I thought, and by the time I figured it out, it was too late. I was afraid of him.”

Kennedy is crying over her spring roll, which feels like it should be illegal. “Oh, Callie, I had no idea. I mean, I knew you were caught up in some kind of scandal, but I didn’t know it was that bad.” She takes a bite, talking around a mouthful of cabbage. “So everything I’ve seen about Spencer being guilty of sexual assault and you leaving the university because of it…?”

“All true.”

“You need to report him so they can send his ass to jail.”

“I thought it would end my career. He didn’t attack me until we were already in a relationship—er dating, I guess. Whatever we were, it was blurry and made things complicated.” I stir my soup. My appetite more or less disappeared the seconds we started talking about Spencer.

“Callie, I don’t care if y’all were happily married for twenty years with a white picket fence and an army of cats. You said ‘no.’ That’s rape. End of story. Do you understand?”

I nod, setting my bowl aside to grab a tissue. “I do. I mean, when stuff like this happens to other girls, I feel exactly the way you do. But it’s not as black and white when it happens to you, you know? I guess I thought I’d never be this girl. I tried so hard not to be this girl. And now, it’s a mess. Owen and I are a big fat question mark. I’m pregnant. And I look like I could audition for Fight Club . If my story was questionable before, it’s even worse now.”

“What happened with Owen exactly?”

I sniff, leaning back into the couch. “He blames himself for everything. He gave me the keys and walked out.”

“Walked out how? Walked out like he needed to blow off some steam, but in a day or two you’ll be back to making babies in closets? Or walked out walked out?”

“ Walked out walked out.”

She drums a spring roll against her pursed lips. “It just doesn’t sound like him at all. You two are perfect for each other. This doesn’t make sense.”

It doesn’t make sense to her because she doesn’t know the whole story. It’s yet another thing I’ve kept from her. Another reason I’m on the verge of exploding, too.

“Owen and I were…” I trail off. I don’t know how to take this bandage off, so I figure I might as well just rip it. “He was never my boyfriend.”

Kennedy’s face scrunches in confusion. “I’m sorry, what?”

“So… from the day I met him, I couldn’t stand him. I was locked out on your balcony with your cat.”

“Half naked and half a bottle of merlot deep,” she nods. “I remember this part, so skip the recap. Next episode.”

“I slept with him, but I didn’t like him. And then we kept running into each other. I had no idea he played hockey and even less of an idea he played for the Scythes. For a while, we just avoided each other. But that was easier said than done. I mean, he was my neighbor, and we used the same coffee maker at work.”

“Not to mention KT taping his fine ass is literally in your job description.” She pops another piece of fried tofu in her mouth. As much as I know she’s going to be upset with me momentarily, she’s trash for this sort of gossip and is hanging on every word right now.

“We got caught by the paparazzi on accident a few times, and your dad called us into his office to remind me to be careful—just to make sure we weren’t actually dating, I’m pretty sure. Instead, Owen decided the best solution to our forced proximity problem was to blurt out to Uncle Randy that we were in a relationship.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Kennedy’s mouth drops open. I was expecting her to be livid. I wasn’t expecting her to act like she just watched the season finale of a reality dating show. “That is so… wow. Just wow.”

“I know.” I can’t believe I am admitting it out loud. But at the same time, it feels good to get it off my chest. To tell someone.

“But you guys are so good together. I totally thought you liked each other. I thought—” She shakes her head. “You really sold the performance.”

“That’s the confusing part, Ken… At first, it was all a performance. Camera on, smiles on. Camera off, exit stage left. But then it got blurry.”

“Because of all the closet fucking?” She’s smiling now. This girl, I swear to god.

“No,” I snap before I think better of it. “Well, sort of. But mostly no. It’s because he’s not anything like I thought he’d be. He’s loyal and protective and sweet. He makes me laugh and lets me cry. The more time we spent together, the less fake it felt. At least for me.”

“Just to summarize, you pretended to the world that you were in love. But in the process, you fell for him for real.”

I don’t say anything. I don’t have to. I start crying again.

“That is so fucked up.” Kennedy scoots closer and pulls a throw blanket over both of us. “And so beautiful. Does he know how you feel?”

I shrug, swiping my arm across my very tender nose. “I didn’t get a chance to say anything. He just kept going on about how he’s trying to protect me. But I don’t see how leaving me in the dust is protecting me.”

“He is right next door. He’s not far away if you want to talk to him.”

“I wouldn’t even know what to say. His mind seemed so made up.”

Kennedy snorts. “He’s a man. His mind is never actually made up. He’ll think it through, realize he feels the same way, and come back around.”

I know she’s trying to make me feel better, but I’m not so sure. “He seemed pretty decided when he left the hospital, Ken. I think I’ve lost him. I’m pretty sure he’s gone.”

“Again, my gut is telling me differently. And I know my gut can be unreliable sometimes. I’m easily swayed by a good haircut and a stiff drink and there was that year when I thought I might have IBS. But I really do think my gut is right this time. Owen is a good guy. And I don’t say that about most men—especially hockey players.”

“Speaking of Lance…”

Kennedy’s smile disappears. “We weren’t speaking of Lance, and I will not speak of him.”

“What is it with you and him anyway? He acts like he has a crush on you, and you act like you want to crush him.”

Kennedy groans. “Long story summarized? If people are romance tropes, you and Owen are fake relationship meets forced proximity. Lance and I aren’t even a romance trope. We’re enemies to regrets, and no one wants to read that book.”

Kennedy clearly doesn’t want to get into it, but I’d love to escape into someone else’s drama for a beat. My own life is feeling far too heavy.

“Listen to us—” Kennedy leans her head against my shoulder. “—getting all fucked up over men. Who needs them anyway?”

“Not me,” I mumble.

“Exactly. We’re strong, capable women who can chase our dreams and build our lives without any help from them.”

“Sounds good to me,” I lie.

“Then that settles it. From now on, fuck anything with a penis.”

I can’t help but laugh. It hurts like a bitch, but I can’t help it. “I think that’s how I got where I am right now.”

“Fine: don’t fuck anything with a penis. It’s just us girls now.”

“And whatever this little one is.” I put my hand on my stomach.

“We’ll raise the munchkin together. Sister moms!”

Kennedy hops up and goes to the kitchen, returning a minute later with ice cream. “I have Cherry Chocolate Chunk and Coco-Mocha-Cappuccino.”

“God, yes please.”

As much as I feel sick, as much as I want to close my eyes and never open them again, I know I need to be strong. For the little person inside of me, I need to be strong. And honestly? I owe it to myself too.

So I take a spoon and dig into the carton in front of me.

“We don’t need penises or bowls,” Kennedy says with a full mouth. “We eat straight from the carton and do whatever we want. All the men except the Duke can just fuck off.”

“The duke?”

Kennedy just smiles, turning on the TV. Bridgerton pops up on the screen. “Yes, Callie. The Duke.”

With that, we eat two quarts of ice cream while swooning over fictional characters.

My heart still throbs in my chest and nothing is solved. But right now, there’s nothing else I can do.