Puck Prince (Houston Scythes Hockey #1)

53. Callie

53

CALLIE

“Alright, you damn lip gloss. If you’re going to call yourself Fearless, do your fucking job and get me through this day.”

Yes, I’m talking to my own reflection in the car mirror and it’s totally normal. Actually, I’m talking to the bright red lip stain I haven’t worn since my first day working with the Scythes, but that’s normal, too.

I’m doing whatever it takes to walk into the arena with my head held high and without black tear tracks down my cheeks.

For the first, Fearless better help me. For the second, I’m wearing waterproof mascara because “not crying” was not an option. There hasn’t been a single day since Owen broke up with me that I haven’t sobbed over my morning coffee.

That is also normal, I’ve decided. Because the alternative is too damn depressing.

I walk into the arena with my Owen blinders on. I keep my eyes focused on where I need to go. People smile and wave, and I greet them quickly and keep moving. One of the cleaning ladies even gives me a hug. People are being sweet, but I am on a mission.

My directive: get to my office without being stopped by Uncle Randy or seen by Owen. Waterproof or not, I don’t know if this mascara can handle a face-to-face meeting.

If it’s not already clear, I haven’t been doing great.

The keys to my new place have been hanging on the keyring in Kennedy’s apartment since I got home from the hospital. I don’t touch them. I don’t look at them.

Well, maybe I look at them. I might stop and stare at them longingly from time to time, but again—normal, not at all red flag behavior.

I know I should move out and start over, but there is a part of me that can’t stand the thought of the memories in that place. I was so excited. Not just to finally have my own place, but also, my mind was starting to roam down that winding yellow brick road to the future. A future with bottles drying by the sink and a nursery full of stuffed toys and a mobile hanging above a crib. Everything would smell like cotton and powder with tiny outfits hanging in the closet.

And maybe… just maybe, there would be someone else to share all of it with.

But obviously, that was a sugar-rimmed, silver-lined thought in a world where everything is bitter and the clouds are just gray.

I put my hand on my stomach as I round the last corner before my office. I’m sure I have RBF that could kill, but good. I’m in the home stretch now. No more interruptions. Plus, a scowl is exactly the expression you’re supposed to wear with this shade of stain.

The air leaves my lungs in a small shriek when I’m suddenly tugged to the side steps before reaching the training room. Sheer panic and fear dump into my veins, making my pulse race fast enough that I’m sure my heart will stop altogether.

I expect to see Spencer.

Or maybe Owen. Both have a history of yanking me into the shadows, but with very different results.

The very last person I’m expecting is?—

“Summer?”

The figure in front of me, dressed in black yoga pants and an oversized Scythes hoodie lifts their sunglasses.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. But I have to talk to you.” Summer wrestles with her hood and her zipper, and I realize the bulge under her jacket is Nicky. He’s strapped into his carrier, sleeping soundly.

“Summer, you shouldn’t be here.” I glance around to see if anyone else is nearby, but we appear to be alone. Then again, I thought I was alone five seconds ago.

“And Summer wasn’t here. I’m a ghost.” She waves her hand in front of her face like she’s John Cena. “One janitor might have seen me, but he looked about a hundred and thirteen years old. I don’t think he can hear a thing.”

“Summer, seriously. Owen would flip if he knew you were here.”

“That’s exactly why I came.” She puts her hand on Nicky’s back, unzipping the hoodie enough for him to stick his chubby face out.

“To piss your brother off? I think he’s strung up enough as it is, don’t you?”

“I’m not trying to piss him off. I’m trying to help him. Callie, he loves you.”

I laugh a little at the absurdity—Summer in her stealth outfit and the “intel” she came to deliver. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“Laugh all you want, but it’s true. Owen is a guarded man,”

“Now that I believe.”

“And he doesn’t have the most relationship experience,” she continues.

“Also, not shocking.”

Summer isn’t fazed by my sarcasm though and presses on. “But I know him, so believe me when I say, I know when he’s holding a candle for someone. And he might as well be holding an Olympic torch for you. A bonfire. A forest fire!”

“Then I’m Smokey the Bear. Because the only thing Owen is holding for me now is a grudge. If it wasn’t for the baby, I think he’d wash his hands clean of me.”

“That’s the thing, Callie,” she starts. Her voice cuts off while a group of people walk by. She waits until they disappear to continue. “I don’t think he’s upset with you at all. I mean, yeah, he feels a little betrayed by the omission part of it all. But trust me, no one knows better than I do what you are feeling right now.”

I bite my lip, trying not to push my waterproof mascara to the limit. “It’s complicated.”

“Enough with the ‘it’s complicated’ from you two. It’s not! You’re scared, right? Worried? Overwhelmed?”

Check, check, check.

I blink, not looking at her, and nod.

“But you’re also so very, very in love with this little person. In love enough that it doesn’t matter how it came to be, you want them. You want them with your whole heart like you’ve never wanted anyone or anything before.”

I dab under my eyes with my fingertips. “Okay, so maybe you do get it.”

Summer grabs my arm, squeezing gently. “But here’s the thing, Callie: you don’t have to end up like me. My ex was a monster, but Owen isn’t. And yes, he’s acting unhinged right now. He’s so obsessed with protection that he thinks being absent is the best way to keep you and the baby safe. But if I had to guess, he’s not going to be able to stay away from you for long.”

“Why do you say that?” I sniffle hard.

Summer’s face softens.

“Because he loves me?” I guess. I sigh. “Summer, I don’t know about that. I’m not sure if Owen told you everything, but?—”

“Are you talking about your ruse? Yeah, he told me. Y’all are crazy as fuck. You’re also crazy about each other. That’s why I mean it when I say it doesn’t have to be this complicated. It would still be a shitshow for sure. I mean, celebrity relationships are never normal. But they can be real . And whether it was a game or not, I think it was real between the two of you. Even if you didn’t intend for it to be.”

I want to believe Summer. I’ve been crying myself dry for days because I want to believe the fantasy world she’s spinning.

But I’m the one who watched Owen walk away from me. When he left, my heart shattered. My hope crumbled. And I won’t survive a second round.

Summer seems to read my thoughts and offers a sad smile. “Just think about it. Please? I know him, and I’ve never seen him like this?—”

Summer stops cold. Her eyes are fixated on something— someone —behind me. The look of absolute horror on her face is enough to make my own blood run cold.

I look over my shoulder, and, at the end of the hall, several of the guys from the team are heading from the locker rooms into the gym. It’s Dax and Heath and Miles. Dax and Heath make their way through, but Miles hangs back, bending to tie his shoe.

Summer stares at Miles’s profile, her face pale and her eyes wide. She looks like she is about to scream.

She’s hugging Nicky to her chest as though she needs to protect him. Like she will at all costs. And while she’s trembling, she inches back against the wall.

I don’t even need her to explain. I don’t need verbal confirmation. I whisper the truth into the air between us.

“Miles is Nicky’s father.”