Puck Princess (Houston Scythes Hockey #2)

47. Callie

47

CALLIE

“Why isn’t he here yet?” I ask, shifting on the hospital bed. The scratchy blankets scrape against my skin and the thin mattress makes my lower back ache.

I think staying here is doing more harm than good.

No matter how many times I told Kennedy I was fine—that Spencer didn’t actually hurt me—she insisted that we go to the hospital. All I want is to go home.

I don’t even know if we can get back in the building.

The more I think about it, I’m not even sure if I want to. Not after what just happened.

The feeling bouncing around my chest is telling me to find home, to get somewhere safe. But that isn’t a place. It’s a person.

It’s Owen.

“He’s coming.” Kennedy checks her phone with pursed lips. “Lance said they’re on their way right now.”

I look at the clock on the wall. The clock on my phone. The clock on the corner of the muted TV screen that is playing a rerun of Friends .

But I can’t relax. I can’t watch TV or drink the little plastic cup of juice or do anything but pick at the tape on the pointless IV they jabbed into my arm because Owen isn’t here yet and Spencer is running free.

I drum my fingers on my thigh, my foot twitching with energy I shouldn’t have. It’s late. I should be asleep. I should be exhausted. But my body is humming.

“Did Lance say how far out? Should we call them? Maybe we should?—”

“He literally just texted me that they’re close.” She turns off the TV and puts a hand on my leg, stilling me. “It’s going to be okay, Callie.”

I let out a shaky sigh. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

Tears clog my throat. We haven’t actually talked about it yet.

“Jumping onto my balcony and blazing through my door with your taser.” A watery laugh bubbles out of me. It’s still way too soon to find any of this funny, but if I don’t laugh, I’ll cry.

“Don’t thank me for that. I’d do anything for you, Cal, but tasing Spencer Santos in the balls would be like a reward.” Her phone buzzes with another text, and she sighs. “You could thank me for coordinating with Lance Craven, though. That is a sacrifice.”

“Why do you even have his number?”

“Emergencies. Like my cousin stabbing her ex-boyfriend after he breaks into her apartment, for example. The usual.”

“Or because you guys used to be a thing?” I prod.

“Nice try. But a near-death experience isn’t going to soften me up enough to walk down that memory lane.”

“Come on, Kenny. Distract me. I need?—”

“ Oh my God!” She jumps up, and I think I might’ve finally pushed Kennedy too far. I didn’t think it was possible, but I broke her patience. But she turns her phone towards me. “Spencer was arrested.”

I sit up straight. “Wait, what?”

“He’s been taken into custody for breaking and entering, assault and other pending charges.”

Hot tears burn the back of my eyes.

They got him. The police found him. They know what he did, and he’s where he belongs—locked away and unable to hurt me or my baby or anyone else ever again.

It seems too good to be true. I don’t trust it just yet. Not until I hear more.

Just then, Lance and Owen walk through the door.

Owen radiates anxiety. He’s tense, his eyes wide and searching. The moment they land on me, the floodgates open.

I collapse forward in a sob, and suddenly, Owen is there. His arms band around me and his mouth settles next to my ear, whispering things I can’t hear yet because I’m too filled with relief.

“Finally,” Kennedy snaps. “What the hell took so long? I called you an hour ago!”

“We came as fast as we could. We just had to… take care of something,” Lance says cryptically.

Owen pulls away from me, his hands never leaving my body. He outlines the shape of me, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” I nod, reaching for him, but he still holds me away, still assessing.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No.”

He doesn’t seem to trust me. His gaze scrapes over me again before his shoulders finally sag. Before he blows out a ragged breath and cradles me to his chest. “Come here.”

The first hug was for me, but this one is for Owen. He kisses my temple and smooths a large hand down my back. “It’s okay. I’m so sorry. But I’m here. And I’m never leaving your side again.”

“What could you have possibly needed to take care of that was more important than this?” Kennedy asks.

“It wasn’t a what,” Lance says. “More like a who.”

The room goes quiet.

I pull away from Owen this time. Kennedy and I take turns looking back and forth between the men before Owen finally nods, admitting what we already know.

“We found him.”

“And beat him within an inch of his life.” Lance slaps the bow on that package proudly.

Kennedy pumps a fist in the air before she claps Lance on the back. “Yeah, you fucking did.”

I’m still processing. Still trying to understand how tonight happened at all—how any of this is real. “Where was he?”

“A bar,” Lance answers.

Kennedy snorts. “The man threatened to kill someone, got stabbed, and then his first instinct was to go do a round of shots? Fucking typical.”

Owen smooths my hair away from my face and drops his forehead to mine. “I can’t believe you stabbed him.”

“He was gonna…” My throat tightens around the truth, but I force it out. “He said he wanted to kill me. He was going to. I didn’t?—”

“I’m glad you stabbed him,” Owen clarifies. “And the more I think about it, the more I can believe it. You’re tough, Callie Coleman.”

For the first time in hours, I manage a small smile.

“Callie stabbed him, and then I came barging in with a taser, wearing nothing but a Harry Styles shirt and underwear,” Kennedy adds. “Just ready to kick any necessary ass.”

“As one does in a Harry Styles shirt and underwear,” Lance teases.

Owen ignores them and pulls me against him. “I’m so sorry this happened.”

“It’s not your fault. If I’d come clean the first day he walked into the arena, none of this would’ve happened.”

“Those Santos men are snakes, Cal. They would’ve wormed their way out of any accusations, and we still would’ve ended up here,” Kennedy points out. “Maybe it took setting fire to our lives and then going all thrasher on him for things to work out the way they did.”

“Plus, now we know how unbelievably badass you are.” Lance smirks. “The fact you fought him off is very impressive.”

Owen envelopes me in the warm familiarity of his arms. “Now we know you can fight off an attacker, but you also never have to worry about it again. Because we took care of him.”

Kennedy gasps. “Did you kill him?”

“If we did, you just told the entire hospital,” Lance whisper-shouts. “But… no. Owen over here let him live.”

Kennedy pouts. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

“Because he needs to pay for what he’s done. To everyone,” I answer for Owen. He agrees by pulling me even farther into his chest.

“We fucked him up a bit and then called the police,” Owen explains. “After a bit of poking and prodding, they found a non-lethal wound?—”

“Damn.” Kennedy shakes her head.

“And then they arrested him. They have a mountain of evidence against him, and there is no way he’s getting away with this.”

I don’t even realize I’m crying until Owen takes my face in his palms. “You don’t need to worry anymore. You are safe. It’s over.”

Safe.

What even is that?

It’s a new word in my day-to-day vocabulary, but I hope I can believe in it.

But the one thing I know I can believe in is Owen. I sink against his chest and sigh. Home .

On the other side of the room, Kennedy and Lance keep eyeing each other.

He offers her a lazy smile.

She bites back a smirk.

Finally, she throws her hands up with a sigh and crosses the room. “Fine! Thank you.”

She hugs him, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Lance light up the way he does when Kennedy’s arms are around him. “Anytime.”

She pulls back and holds a finger in his face. “But this changes nothing.”

“Of course.”

“I still hate you.”

He grins. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She shoves him away, and the room goes quiet. For the first time in as long as I can remember, there’s nothing to do. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to plan.

“I need to get out of this hospital,” Kennedy blurts. “It’s bumming me out.”

“I can order an Uber,” Lance offers.

She narrows her eyes at him. “We aren’t going to the same place.”

“We could be.” He grins. “I need a drink.”

“So do I,” she admits grudgingly.

When Lance arches a brow, Kennedy rolls her eyes, but doesn’t argue.

“What about us?” Owen whispers against my ear. “Should I get us a hotel room? We can’t go back to the apartment tonight.”

“I don’t even want to. I just want to be with you.”

Owen nods, kissing my hair. “I’ll get us somewhere with a hot tub and a masseuse. Somewhere you can relax.”

I squeeze him closer, breathing in the sweet, spiced scene of him. “As long as you’re there, I’m happy.”

“That I can do.”

The room is perfect. It’s a suite on the top floor with a walk-in shower, a monstrously large bed, and all the privacy we could ask for.

After a long, indulgent shower, Owen pampers me with a massage. He smooths lotion into my skin and works out my knots one at a time. It’s wild how such a simple gesture helps me feel human again. I melt into the goose down comforter and let out a sigh I’ve been holding in for hours.

“We are going to be okay,” Owen says, his voice low and soft.

“Are you sure?”

He nods, kissing me on the lips. “I’m positive. I swear it. Because I love you and I love our daughter and I’m never going to let anyone hurt either of you. You are mine.”

“Forever?” I ask, sleep threatening to carry me away.

Owen pulls the comforter up to my shoulders, snuggling me in. “And ever and ever.”

Right now, it’s still hard to believe it could be over. But I know it’s true.

As I lie here with him, my hand on my belly, I’ve never believed anything more in my life. After years of trying to find my way, I finally belong somewhere. To someone. And it’s the most beautiful thing in the world.