Puck Princess (Houston Scythes Hockey #2)

14. Callie

14

CALLIE

“It’s the same fucking guy!”

I don’t even get a greeting out before Kennedy is streaming through the phone, her voice echoing off the tile walls of the arena bathroom.

I wouldn’t usually take a call while using the restroom, but it’s Kennedy. She’s burst in on me in the bathroom enough times that our shame meter is nonexistent. Plus, I’m always in the bathroom these days. The first trimester, it was to throw up. Now that I’m in the second, I can’t even look at a glass of water without needing to pee.

“Who is the same what? Where?” She might have shattered my eardrum because I don’t actually know what she said.

“The guy on the Scythes social media page. From the video. He’s the same!”

“The same as who?”

My failure to understand her shrieks might also be from exhaustion. I haven’t slept well the last few nights. Owen finally coaxed me back over to his bed, but he was out late one night at some kind of college tournament, scouting out future talent. Another night, there was a fundraiser. I was supposed to go as Owen’s date, but the thought of spending an evening in the same room as Spencer after barely managing to dodge him at the arena all day didn’t sound appealing. I claimed I was nauseous and stayed in Owen’s bed. I was asleep by the time he got home.

And this morning, I was roped into being emergency triage for an ice skating lesson gone wrong. The Scythes rent out the rink when they aren’t using it, but three-year-olds on ice skates should be illegal. I bandaged so many chubby shins and dimpled elbows this morning that my eyes were starting to cross.

This bathroom break was the only two seconds I’ve had to myself all day, and now Kennedy is on the other end of the phone having an aneurysm about some guy.

“The guy I was dancing with that night at Pour Boys! It’s Spencer!”

I drop my face, pinching the bridge of my nose with a sigh.

Oh, right. That guy.

“He’s on the team, Callie!” she continues, somehow getting even louder. “He’s the new winger!”

“Yeah, I know.”

“He was giving some interview for the Scythes socials, talking about hockey being his life and some shit like that, and he was wearing Scythes gear. I looked him up and— Wait !”

There it is. I count to five while Kennedy processes.

“What do you mean you know? What do you know?”

“I know everything.”

There’s another five seconds of processing before?—

“And you didn’t tell me? This guy hurt you and ran you out of your last job, and you didn’t think it was important to mention that you now have to feel him up on the regular?”

“I’ve barely seen him the last few days,” I point out, failing to mention that the last time I saw him, he did make me feel him up. That fact won’t earn me any points here. “I didn’t keep it from you on purpose. I actually didn’t know he’d be here, either. I knew he was following me, but I thought he was just parading around the arena because he’s a big face in hockey and his dad’s money got him through the door. I had no idea your dad hired him to replace Miles.”

“And now that we know, we’ll tell my dad to fire him! In fact, I’ll do it right now. Hold, please.”

“Kennedy, no!” I shoot up from the toilet, realize I’m now the one yelling . Luckily, no one else is in here. I’m the only person who needs to occupy the bathroom six to eight times a day.

“Just… leave it alone.”

“Owen knows, right? Please tell me Owen knows who Spencer is.”

I flush the toilet and unlock the stall door, walking over to the sink to wash my hands.

“Of course Owen knows who Spencer is. Even if he’s a giant dill weed and his face makes me want to throw up, he’s a big name in sports, as far as rookies go. Plus, he’s got his daddy’s money behind him.”

“But does he know who Spencer is ?”

There’s a beat of hesitation before I answer. “He doesn’t know what happened between us, no.”

“Callie!”

“I know!” I lower my voice. I really don’t want to be talking about this here. The acoustics are great, and I have no idea how far my voice might carry down the hall. “He knows my ex has been following me around and watching me. He knows a little about what happened in the past. He just doesn’t know that Spencer is that person.”

“He needs to know,” she drills into me.

“Kennedy, he can’t. He’d kill him. And then imagine what would happen.”

“I am imagining it. It looks like swift, bloody justice. I like it.” When I don’t say anything, she groans. “What’s your plan, Cal? Just peacefully co-exist with both of them every day? I don’t see how that could possibly work. Also, this is giving me déjà vu, if you know what I mean.”

I know exactly what she means. It’s like a repeat of Miles except worse. I cut off the head of the sexually-deviant hydra and an even nastier one grew back.

“I don’t expect him to last here, to be honest. The team needs a winger, so he’s filling that role for now, but he’s a shitty team player and a puck hog. Your dad won’t stand for that long. Not only that, I don’t think the guys like him much. It’s not going to work, and he’ll have to leave.”

“Unless his wallet is fat enough.”

I stop, looking at myself in the mirror. There are black circles like bruises under my eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, my dad isn’t shallow, but with all the negative press lately, Spencer’s TV-ready face and the money behind that face are probably looking pretty good to the higher ups. I wouldn’t be too sure Spencer is going anywhere anytime soon.”

I’m worried she’s right, but before I can say anything, I hear people in the hallway. I wait until the voices are gone before I lower mine. “I can’t talk about this at work. I can’t risk anyone knowing who Spencer is to me. Besides, we kind of came to an agreement.”

“What kind of agreement?” Kennedy is skeptical.

“He said we should be civil. … Friends.”

Honestly, even as I say it, I know it sounds stupid. Spencer doesn’t want to be friends with me. But I also know that whatever game he’s playing, I have to play along if I want to keep the peace. And I really want to keep the peace.

“So, now you’re wheeling and dealing with the Devil? Callie, you can’t be serious.”

“Things are going so well, Kenny. For the first time, my job feels right. I have a boyfriend. I’m having a baby. I know this is where I’m supposed to be, and I just don’t want anything or anyone to fuck it up, you know?”

I exit the bathroom and make my way to my office.

“You can’t trust him. I know you want to leave your past behind, but this guy is your past and he’s literally all up in your face right now.”

I fake smile at people I pass on the way to my office, keeping my voice artificially cheerful as I respond. “We’re usually on separate ends of the building. It’s not like I see him every day. And when I do my job right, the players don’t get hurt, I don’t see them much at all.”

“He’s a liar. Liars fake injuries to make sure they get to see their stalking victim as much as they want.”

“If he’s that injured, he needs someone with more experience than me. I’ll pass him off to Miriam. If I’m lucky, I’ll never have to touch him again.”

Suddenly, my office door cracks open, and Owen pokes his head in. “You better not be talking about me.”

My heart speeds up. How much did he hear?

“But you aren’t lucky, Cal! You had sex with Owen once and got a bum condom. Your life is tragicomedy, at best, so?—”

“I gotta go,” I blurt, hanging up before she can say anything too incriminating.

I drop my phone on my desk and smile at Owen. “Hey, you.”

“Hey yourself. Are you busy? I was thinking—” I cut him off by wrapping my arms around him and kissing him.

His quick reaction time comes in handy as he instantly bands his arms around my waist and pulls me tight, deepening the kiss until I’m lightheaded.

I pull away, breathless. “I missed you.”

“Me too. It’s been crazy this week. Coach is running us pretty hard, trying to work out our dynamic now that you-know-who is gone.” Owen’s jaw still clenches at any mention of Miles. It flexes again as he adds, “The new kid is a piece of work, too.”

I don’t want to talk about Spencer, so I kiss Owen again. This time, my body melts against his. Our hips grind together.

Owen moans and then picks me up. He carries me to my desk and lays me down, knocking everything but my laptop out of the way.

“Owen!” I fist my hand in the front of his shirt, trying to keep my voice down. “What are you doing?”

“Finishing what you started.” He hovers over me, kissing my neck, his fingers slipping under the hem of my shirt. “You can’t rub your sweet little self all over me and then pump the brakes.”

“We can’t do it in here!” I whisper yell.

“Why not? The door locks.”

“And the coach has a key.” He’s still devouring my neck while his hand is moving quickly across my ribs towards my chest. If he makes it there, turning back will be even harder than it already is.

“Uncle Randy would knock first.”

“Owen!” I giggle, shoving him back.

Owen braces his hands on the desk, his chest already rising and falling in waves of heated adrenaline. “Alright, alright. Then let’s get out of here. We can break in the new Benz.”

“The what?” I ask.

He pulls me to my feet and takes me to the window overlooking the VIP parking lot. Then he hits a button on a brand new key fob and the lights to a shiny blue Benz flicker below us.

“When did you get a new car?”

“When I got tired of driving the rental.” He kisses me again. “What do you say? Want to christen it with me?”

“You want to dirty the new leather?”

“For you? Anything.”

My heart flutters, but I push him away again. “I’ll let you take me for a ride, but no parking lot sex.”

“Fine.” Owen sighs in disappointment. “I’ll drive you home, you can ride me when we get there, and then I’m driving you back to work tomorrow morning.”

“Can I drive?”

Owen lets out a laugh. “Cute, but not a chance.”

We walk hand in hand through the arena, saying bye to people as we pass. Owen has no reservations about making it obvious that we are a couple. He didn’t before either but now, it’s different. It’s real. It feels real. And it feels right.

I don’t know who all is watching. Or if people are whispering as we make our way out. I don’t really care. Nothing, and no one, is going to ruin this.

We drive with music playing softly through the speakers. I look around at the gigantic screen, the sleek dash, the heated seats and the sunroof. I hate to admit it, but it’s a really nice car. And I don’t hate riding shotgun in it either.

Owen takes my hand and kisses it, smiling over at me at a stop light. “I had a good day.”

“Really? I’m glad.”

“It was long and hard work. The coach has been relentless lately. But it’s over, and I’m with you. That’s all that matters.”

I smile at that.

“How was your day?” he asks.

Terrible. Scary. Stressful. A nightmare attempting to happen.

“It was good. Productive.”

I’m not lying. I’m just leaving a lot out. Like the part about Spencer being a huge landmine that I am going to have to dance around very gracefully if I want to keep everything intact.

But Owen doesn’t need to know about Spencer. Not yet, anyway. Owen is finally starting to relax with work and Summer, and I don’t want to ruin that for me. This day might have been hellish, but it’s over, and the evening is looking promising.

That’s all that matters.