Puck Princess (Houston Scythes Hockey #2)

31. Callie

31

CALLIE

“Remind me again why we are doing this?” Owen stares down at the flute of OJ and champagne. “You can’t even drink.”

“Kennedy says there’s never a bad time for mimosas.”

“Unless you’re pregnant.” He chuckles and then looks up at me. “Sorry. For real, though, what is this for?”

I lift my glass of juice and ginger ale in a toast. “It’s symbolism. No matter last night’s storm, the sun can still shine in the morning. ”

He downs half the flute in one swallow. “Did you get that off a fortune cookie?”

“No!” I take a sip of mine. “It was one of those daily inspo calendars on the receptionist's desk at my dentist’s office.”

He laughs and it’s unbelievably good to see him like that.

We haven’t talked about what happened last night. Though, the bruised hand resting on the table is a frequent enough reminder. His hand looks awful, and I swear I catch glimpses of the same weary pain I saw last night every so often. But we slept cuddled together all night, and when I suggested going out, Owen just grabbed his keys and asked, where to?

Maybe, after the storms we’ve both been through, this can be our sunshine. Maybe we can be each other’s safe place to hide.

We finish our drinks and walk, hand in hand, around downtown for a while. I make a point of stopping in every shop with baby things, from toys to outfits. He makes a point of wanting to buy all of it. I tell him less is more and he tells me not where his kid is concerned.

Eventually, we make our way home, and I’m ready for a nap. He’s ready for something else.

“Just a quickie.” He kisses me in the elevator. Both of us have our hands full of bags.

“Owen, I'm tired,” I giggle into his mouth.

He nips at my bottom lip. “You’re also sexy. I’ll make quick work of you, I promise.”

“I mean, that is the definition of a quickie.”

“Is that a yes?”

I step out of the elevator first, slamming to a stop when I see someone leaning against the wall next to our door.

Owen, however, stumbles out of the elevator after me, catching himself on my hips. His lips whisper against my earlobe. “You can’t walk around looking this sexy all day and then leave me in cold sheets.”

I feel the second he looks up and sees his sister and nephew waiting by our door.

His mischievous grin fades. “And just like that, I’m not horny anymore.”

“Nice to see you too, brother.” Summer’s face crinkles in disgust. “I don’t know what happened in that elevator, and I’m happy to never know.”

“What are you doing here?” I kiss Nicky on the top of his head. He gurgles and kicks his feet in excitement.

“I actually have a favor to ask.”

We go inside, and once I’ve dropped all the bags, I reach for Nicky. As soon as he’s out of her arms, I realize Summer is dressed up. It’s nothing wild, but the simple black dress and heels is a big step up from her typical leggings and oversized shirt ensemble.

“You guys didn’t have plans tonight did you?” she asks with a wince.

“Not at all.”

I don’t even want to look at Owen. I’m not lying, we don’t have plans. Me wanting a nap and him wanting sex don’t count as plans, no matter what he might think.

“Amazing, because I was wondering, maybe, if you all didn’t mind?—”

“Today, Summer,” Owen sighs, padding to the fridge for a beer.

“I wanted to see if you all could watch Nicky for me,” she finishes.

Owen finally takes her in, his eyes shifting back and forth and up and down. “While you do what exactly?”

Summer rolls her eyes. “I knew you were going to be a pain in the ass about this.”

“You’re going on a date, aren’t you?” I blurt, already bouncing with excitement.

“I am.”

“Wait, what?” Owen practically does a spit take.

“Who is it? Wait, is it the one with the long hair that kind of looks like Harry Styles? Or is it the one that likes metal music? Edward? God, I was always team Jacob, but that is kind of hot.”

“I know, right? And yes, it’s Edward.” I can’t remember the last time I saw Summer this giddy.

Owen stomps out of the kitchen with a scowl. “Who the fuck is Edward? Since when are you dating again?”

Summer turns to her and lifts her chin. “Since I realized I can. Since Miles lost his grip on me, and I looked in the mirror and decided I want to start over.”

“Where did you even meet Jacob?”

“Edward,” Summer sighs. “And dating apps. I would think you, of all people, would know how to network.”

I bite back a smile, and focus on Nicky, taking him over to the table to rifle through the things we bought for the new baby. He takes interest in a teether, and I crack it out of the packaging for him.

“I don’t network. I actively avoid people. Unfortunately, they barge in unannounced.” He smiles at her snarkily.

“Don’t listen to him.” I swat at Owen. “We’d love to watch Nicky while you go out with Edward. Where are you meeting him?”

“Surf’s Up? I think it’s a beach-themed bar.”

“I’ve heard of that place! They have cocktails out of a pineapple. Get one and tell me all about it. I want to live vicariously.”

“Hang on a second,” Owen cuts in. “You don’t know this guy. You’ve only talked to him on an app. But you’re just going to meet him at a bar?”

“That is usually how online dating goes, yes.”

Owen ignores her sarcasm. “How do you know he’s not a creep?”

“We’ve been talking for about a week. He seems really cool.”

“Edward the death metalhead will probably seem really cool, right up until he’s tying you down to his altar.”

Summer groans. “Never took you for a believer in the satanic panic, O. If he tries to play any Led Zeppelin albums backwards, I promise I’ll plug my ears and sing a hymn.”

“I don’t think you should just go out with the first guy you talk to on some app.”

I sit down on the floor with Nicky, pretending I’m not listening in on their conversation as closely as I am.

“He’s not the first guy I’ve talked to. He’s just the first to not care that I have a kid and not care about what is splashed in the media about me. He also doesn’t watch hockey, which is kind of a nice perk, no offense. I need my own life. Separate from everything I have been through in the past two years.”

I glance at Owen. I can tell that, while he doesn’t like it, he knows she’s right.

“Pin your location as soon as you get there,” he says gruffly.

“That really is a good idea,” I chime in.

“And send an SOS if he tries anything stupid.”

Summer kisses Nicky on the cheek and gives her brother a thumbs up. “Roger that. And thank you both. I’ll text you when I’ll be home.”

“If you come home,” I call out after her.

I hear her whoop from the hallway, but Owen doesn’t look as pleased when I turn around.

He watches from the window as she climbs into her Uber. “I don’t like it.”

“I don’t think it matters whether or not you like it. I know you want to protect her, but she’s doing really well.”

“I’m not worried about her. I’m worried about the guys.” He slides off the couch to sit on the floor with us. Nicky crawls over to him, pulling on Owen’s jersey. Owen smiles and picks him up. “But I guess if my sister is out at some tiki bar with a metalhead, at least I have a good distraction in front of me.”

He leans in to kiss Nicky on the cheek, but then recoils back. At the same time, we look down at Nicky’s clearly loaded diaper.

He holds him in my direction. “I think this is a you thing.”

“I think this is an Owen’s-going-to-be-a-dad-soon thing.”

The look on Owen’s face is enough to make me burst into laughter.

“You’re kidding, right?”

I toss a diaper and a package of wipes at him. “You wish. Now lace up, Sharpe.”

He lays Nicky down on his back who is clearly not amused and tugs at the Velcro on the diaper. As it unfurls, he stops and covers his mouth with his wrist.

“You might want to hold your breath.”

“Weirdly, I figured that out on my own,” he spits back.

Despite his hesitation, and the fuss he makes over the mess Nicky made—honestly, I think he does it to make Nicky laugh because the more he hems and haws, the more Nicky lays still for him, giggling—Owen doesn’t seem like a rookie. He has him wiped, powdered, and diapered in only a few minutes, and then Nicky is happily crawling away, digging into the pile of toys again.

I give him a slow clap. “Wow.”

Owen grabs the dirty diaper off the floor and struts his way to the kitchen where he sinks it into the trashcan like a basketball. “Piece of cake. We are going to kill it at this parent thi?—”

Owen’s words are cut off when Nicky starts to fuss. We both turn to see him throwing the teething rings at the TV.

“Yo!” Owen rushes over. “Chill there, little man, or Uncle Owen’s very expensive flat screen is going to be in the dumpster with your nasty diapers.”

And it begins…

We spend the next couple hours chasing Nicky around the house. Between his grabby little hands, his impressively fast crawling, and our lack of gates and baby proofing, he is getting into everything.

“Is this normal?” Owen asks, desperately snatching a pair of ice skates out of his duffel bag before Nicky reaches for the blade.

“You want the truth?”

“I want to swaddle him in bubble wrap!” he says as Nicky tries to crawl up on the couch.

“Do you even know how to swaddle?”

“If it would make him stay still, I’d learn. Fast.”

He’s wrestling with a small infant, trying to keep his squirmy little body in his arms, and my heart warms. Owen is frantic, but he’s going to be a good dad. I can feel it.

Owen sets him down in front of the pile of toys, but Nicky has lost interest. The fussing turns to a full meltdown.

“I think he needs a nap,” I say. “You want me to take him in the other room?”

We’ve cleared most of the things out of the spare room except for one or two sentimental jerseys Owen has on the wall. I haven’t told him yet, but I think they should stay. Hockey is a gender neutral theme if you aren’t a sexist asshole.

We haven’t furnished much yet, but we do have a glider chair and a crib that Uncle Randy gifted us.

Owen scoops him up with one arm and grabs a blanket out of the diaper bag. “You make the bottle. I’ll put him to nap.”

“Teamwork,” I announce, heading into the kitchen for the goods.

While Owen waits, he paces, bouncing and rocking Nicky. I hear what might be singing, but it’s impossible to tell over Nicky’s ear-piercing shrieks.

Wordlessly, I hand Owen the bottle, and he heads into the other room.

For a very long time, nothing changes. It’s unbroken, unfettered crying. I keep waiting for Owen to pop back out with Nicky held at arm’s length, demanding a swap. But the door stays closed.

Finally—slowly—the crying softens and fades. I can hear Owen talking to Nicky, soft and low. After a few quiet moments, I chance it and open the door to peek in.

Owen is rocking Nicky in the glider, a contented smile on his face. My heart nearly explodes at the sight.

“Is he out?” I whisper.

Nicky’s eyes are closed, the bottle dangling limply from his mouth. He’s snuggled into Owen’s chest. Cue a second round of heart explosions for me.

Owen slowly gets up and lays Nicky in the crib.

We both tip toe out, closing the door as silently as possible behind us. We don’t breathe a word until we’re back in the kitchen.

Owen takes one look at the dopey smile on my face and arches a brow. “What?”

“Nothing. Nothing. You just…” I’m practically fanning myself. He had ideas in the elevator earlier, but I’m the one with plans now.

“Your ovaries are exploding, aren’t they?”

I swat at him, prepared to lie through my tough—but only until Owen drags the truth out of me with his mouth and his hands.

But his phone starts to buzz in his pocket. He pulls it out and his smug grin fades. “It’s Summer.”

He answers. “SOSing already?”

“Owen?” Summer’s voice is delayed. Slurred. His brow furrows, and I step closer to hear what’s happening.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t… I don’t feel right.” She sounds wasted, but she wouldn’t get drunk on a first date.

“Are you still at the bar?” I ask.

“Are you still with him?” Owen adds.

“I’m at the… swim bar. The surf place. Bar.” She snorts out a laugh, but nothing about this is funny. “I feel like I’m swimming. But I’m in the bathroom. Shh. Don’t tell him.”

“How much have you had to drink, sweetie?” I ask as slowly and clearly as I can.

“I don’t… not much. But that one he brought to our table was a doozie. He wants me to come home,” she mumbles. “But I don’t really want to go with him.”

She literally sounds like she’s going to pass out.

I gape up at Owen. I can’t see anything past the massive red flags waving.

He drugged her? I mouth to Owen.

“Summer, you need to stay in the bathroom,” Owen demands. “I’m going to come get you. Do you understand me? Stay in the bathroom. And do not get in the car with him.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.” She cackles again.

Without another word, Owen grabs his keys and is out the door.

With Nicky asleep in the other room, all I can do is sit on the couch and worry.