Puck Princess (Houston Scythes Hockey #2)

42. Callie

42

CALLIE

“Braxton Hicks.” The OB wraps her stethoscope around her neck and peels off her gloves.

“Who’s that?” Owen asks, his hand strangling the life out of mine.

I know he’s here to support me, but the death grip he’s got on four of my fingers tells me he’s as much of a mess as I am. I’ve never seen someone drive so fast, yet so carefully to a hospital before in my life.

But the words that just came out of my doctor’s mouth make me want to sob. For the first time all night, they’d be happy tears.

“Not a who, a what,” she laughs. “False contractions. I know sometimes they feel like the real thing, but you are not in labor and everything looks great with baby. You have nothing to be concerned about.”

“Thank God.” Owen deflates in his chair like a balloon.

“They felt real,” I say, half embarrassed and half disbelieving. “I’m sorry.”

“Never apologize for coming in to make sure everything is fine. Better safe than sorry,” she assures me. “But everything looks great. You’re doing everything right.”

If only that was true.

She makes her way out of the hospital room to give us some privacy, and the moment the door closes, we’re left in the thick silence of exactly how un-right things went tonight.

I look at Owen. He looks at me.

I know he’s happy that I’m okay and that the baby is okay… but he isn’t happy with me. I can’t even blame him.

My lip quivers, but I hold back tears. I’m not the one who deserves to cry right now.

“I’m sorry.” My voice is barely audible.

He doesn’t respond.

“I know I should have told you, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt and?—”

“So you put yourself in danger, instead. To do what?” he snaps. “To protect me from the truth? For Christ’s fucking sake, Callie.”

“It wasn’t just about me or you. Kennedy?—”

“I don’t give a fuck —” His voice raises nearly to a yell on the last word, but he reels it back in, “—what Kennedy thinks about all of this. What I care about is that you lied. I mean, fuck Spencer Santos? It was Spencer Santos this whole time, and you didn’t think that maybe I should know? He was working in the same building as you.”

“I wanted to tell you, but I knew how you’d react.” Maybe I lied, but I had my reasons. Good reasons. He might be mad, but I’m putting a foot down that I didn’t do any of this thoughtlessly.

“Oh, did you? And how would I react?”

I sit up, fighting with my thin hospital cape to stay shut. It’s kind of hard to argue with someone when your tits are hanging out. “I don’t know. Let’s think about that for a moment—” I press a patronizing finger to my lips in rehearsed thought. “You’d get mad. You’d lose your temper, beat the shit out of him in the locker room—maybe in an alleyway. Hell, maybe you’d just do it on the ice. Because why not? Then, all because of me, you’d lose your job and your reputation.”

Owen shoves himself to his feet, the chair falling backwards behind him. “Because I love you, goddammit!”

“And I love you , you jerk! Which is exactly why I don’t want to let my problems ruin your life.” I match his volume, but while his is driven by anger, mine is brimmed with emotion.

“You’re my fiancée, Callie. Your problems, both future and present, are my problems, too.”

“Even at the expense of getting cut from the team? Of losing everything you care about?”

Owen steps forward, cupping my face in his firm but soft hands. “You are everything I care about, Callie. You and the baby. My career, the team—the game of hockey itself—will now and forever take a backseat to you. Period.”

Tears roll down my face.

“Do you understand me?” he asks.

I hear him. I comprehend what he’s saying.

What I’ll never understand is how I deserve him.

“Things were going so well,” I sob. “You dealt with Miles, and I just wanted you to be happy.”

“And I want us to be a team. To be partners. We can’t do that if we’re hiding things from each other. We have to work together and learn to rely on each other. You need to trust me. Can you do that?”

I nod again, and Owen sits down on the bed with me. “Promise me you’ll trust me, Callie?”

“I already do,” I whisper. “I always have.”

He hugs me close and kisses my temple. “Then let me take care of you.”

We step out of the elevator to find Kennedy waiting outside our apartment door. She is leaning against it, typing something on her laptop. But she jumps up when she sees us.

“Oh my God, Callie. Are you alright?” She pulls me against her before I can even answer, smashing my face against her shoulder.

“I’m fine,” I mumble into her shirt. “I’m okay.”

She pulls away enough to put her hand on my stomach. “Munchkin?”

I can’t help smiling at that. “Munchkin is fine, too.”

“Munchkin?” Owen’s face twists into a disgusted look of disapproval.

Kennedy scowls at him. “Auntie privileges include nicknames. Deal with it.”

Owen sighs. “I am too tired to fight you on it. Tonight, anyway.”

Hard same. I’m exhausted. As if the contractions and Spencer cornering me weren’t enough, I also got to spend a few painful minutes not sure if Owen would ever speak to me again. Just the thought of him not being able to forgive me was draining. When we curl up in bed tonight, I’m going to hold onto him like I never plan to let go.

Because I never do.

Kennedy releases me, but steps between me and the apartment door. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Owen straps a protective arm around my waist. “Kennedy, can it wait till morning? It’s been a long day.”

She bites her bottom lip as she shakes her head. “It won’t take long. And it’s important.”

I kiss Owen on the cheek and pull out from his grip. “I’ll be there soon. Can you make a cup of tea for me? Chamomile?”

Owen seems reluctant to let me go. His hand flexes at his side like he’s going to snatch me up and steal me away into our apartment. But he sighs. “Fine.”

“I love you.” I kiss him, holding it for an extra beat.

His thumb strokes my jaw. “I love you too.”

I follow Kennedy into her apartment, and she closes and locks the door. We pad our way over to her couch where she sits down and starts typing on her laptop again. Before I can ask what this is about, she hands it to me.

My eyes scan over what appears to be a social media page.

“Read the handle.”

“JusticeforSantosVictims.com?” I look up at her. “Who did this?”

Kennedy gives me a cute smile before raising a hand in the air.

My heart is racing again. This whole night has wreaked havoc on my blood pressure.

“ You did this? Why?”

Spencer could come after her. His father will definitely be gunning for her.

The video…

But Kennedy isn’t worried. The smile on her face and the way she lifts her chin tells me she is the opposite of worried. She’s proud.

“I did what we should’ve done a long time ago. I told my story. It started with a clip on TikTok. I knew it could be dangerous, but I did it anyway. And people connected with the story. I know I wasn’t nearly as victimized by Spencer as you were,” she goes on. “But people take revenge porn seriously now. You and Summer are bringing Miles down, and I figured Spencer needed to be brought to justice too.”

“Is a social media dump the best way to do that?” I ask. “Seems a little risky. I mean, considering who he is and who his dad is and all. Why not just turn him in like we did Miles?”

“I thought about it.” Kennedy takes the laptop from me, clicking on one of the links. “But—and this is a safe space, so I’m going to be honest—I was a little drunk and a lot angry. I was so pissed about the way he gets to treat everyone like shit and get away with it. So, I made a post. And guess what?”

“We’re getting sued?” I’m kidding, but also, not really.

“No!” She laughs, but quickly turns serious. “Not yet, anyway. But no, what I realized super quickly is that we aren’t the only ones.”

“Aren’t the only ones what?”

“We aren’t his only victims.”

She pulls up the comment section of her original post. I expect people to be supportive, maybe even enraged on Kennedy’s behalf. Instead, what I see are people who have actually, real life experiences with Spencer Santos.

The worst thing about Spencer is the way he makes you feel like he wants you. Then it turns into a game you can’t quit.

Finally, someone is saying something. DM me for my story. #f*ckSantos

Not even daddy’s money can save him now. I should have posted this years ago. #youareme

Spencer has done this before. I wasn’t his first victim. And Kennedy is proof I wasn’t his last.

“These comments were rolling in, so I checked my DMs, and there are other people he’s hurt, Callie.” Kennedy clicks to her DMs and scrolls through an endless amount of messages. “So many others. There are stories from way back when he was in high school. Spencer has been a dick since he discovered he had a dick.”

Kennedy stops scrolling, so I take over. I skim the handles, trying to imagine all of these women in the same room. Trying to imagine what it would look like for this many people to stand in front of Spencer and speak out.

“These women…” Emotions clogs my throat, and I swallow it down. “These women were all taken advantage of by Spencer, and they want to speak out?”

Kennedy nods and turns the laptop back towards her. She clicks a link in the bio. “So many wanted to share their stories that I created an official website where allegations could be posted.”

I can hardly believe it. Not just the fact that Spencer hurt this many people—that part is incredibly believable—but that women are bravely coming forward. There are written stories and videos of women describing their interactions with him. It’s a treasure trove of shitty behavior and comeuppance.

“Jesus…” I breathe.

“That’s who Spencer is gonna need if he wants to stay out of jail.” Kennedy snorts. “Even still, I think the Big Guy would be on our side. We got him, Callie. There’s enough here to take him and his Richy Rich daddy down.”

Panic claws up my throat. “They’ll come for you, Kenny. He has the video. And they’re so rich.”

“Well, so far, the page is anonymous. Yes, I made that drunken post about him, but I took it down after my DMs exploded. He probably didn’t even see it. And as for the web page, my name isn’t on it. Even if it was—even if they figure out who created it—what would they do, Callie? Look at how many women are standing up against him. These women are ready to go to court with their stories. And with your story, I don’t think he’s going to have a fighting chance.”

My attention snaps over to her, nearly giving me whiplash.

But Kennedy grabs my hand. “I know it’s a lot. I mean, shit, Owen just found out. And if I had to guess, that wasn’t a walk in the tulips. If you’re not ready to come forward against Spencer, that’s okay. But when you are, I’ll pull the trigger and throw my name and face out there, too. We do it together, Callie. And behind us is an army of women ready to rip the Santos men to shreds.”

I don’t know how to feel about it. On one hand, it’s amazing. On the other, I am terrified.

Either way, I can’t believe she did this. I blink back tears and pull Kennedy into a hug. “I love you.”

“And I love you!” She squeezes me back.

I slowly pull away, taking a deep breath. “But I don’t know if I’m ready.” She opens her mouth, but I charge ahead. “Not because I don’t want to make him pay. But because whatever is going on, it’s big. I want facts. I don’t want to jump the gun. I want proof that will, without a doubt, bury him alive.”

I want to make sure that when we slam the pile of statements on the lawyer’s desk, it’s tall enough to scrape the goddamned ceiling.

I’m worried Kennedy will be upset with me. She’s decisive, an action-taker. When she is motivated, she doesn’t slow down.

But her face twists into a smile that should scare Spencer to his very core. “I like the way you think.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Spencer Santos should say some extra prayers tonight.” She scrolls through the site again, biting back a laugh. “Because he is so unbelievably fucked.”