Page 102 of Puck Prince

My stupid thumb print won’t take because my phone is too busy trying to vibrate apart. “Who’s Jaxon?”

“My PR guy. He only contacts me directly when something is royally fucked up.”

Finally, I unlock my phone and I have a zillion texts from Kennedy. It’s a string ofAre you seeing this? Holy shit. This is a mess. Callie? Callie!

“What happened?” I mumble, scrolling to the top of the thread, trying to get caught up.

“Photos leaked.” Owen reads out robotically.

“Photos?”

“Goddammit!” Owen grits out, turning away and raking his hands through his hair.

“Photos of what? Of us?” I ask, still sifting through Kennedy’s texts.

I’m still lost. The two of us being out together at events, kissing and dancing—that is literally the point. There were photographers outside the apartment as we left. We knew there would be pictures.

“No, not us. Summer.”

“Summer?” I’m repeating him like a stupid parrot, but that’s how I feel.

“Someone snapped pictures of Summer the day she was here with Nicky. Her face isn’t fully visible, but what is visible is me holding her and ushering her into my apartment…”

“Oh, shit.”

“‘Oh, shit’ is right.”

Owen is livid. And I can see why.

“If they knew she was your sister, then maybe?—”

“Callie, if they know she’s my sister—and that my sister is single with a baby—they’re going to dig. It won’t take long before all our family’s dirty laundry is waving in the wind for all the world to see and smell. Just run it up the fucking flagpole while you’re at it.”

“Well, the alternative isn’t better.” I scroll through my phone. “Because right now, the headlines surrounding you—or us—are ‘Family Man’ and ‘Baby Fever.’”

Owen’s face shifts as he reads the next one. “‘Star center for the Houston Scythes just might be hanging up his skates for fatherhood.’”

My heart nearly stops. Obviously, it's all a big misconception, but still, it’s hitting too close to a reality he is unaware of.

“We’ll fix it,” I try to reassure him. “We’ll set them straight somehow and?—”

“Oh, don’t worry. I am going to put them all in their place, that's for fucking sure.” Owen shoves his door open before adding, “I’m not hanging up my skates for anyone.”

With that, he disappears.

I’m numb as I step inside Kennedy’s apartment. I leave my heels by the door and shuffle to the couch, trying to wrap my brain around what just happened.

Owen’s last words echo in my head.

I touch my hand to my stomach and am on the verge of tears. But just before the dam breaks, the front door opens.

“Thanks for the ride, Lancelot. Now, go hang out with King Arthur, and I’ll see you—well, hopefully never.” Kennedy slams the door literally in Lance’s face. She turns and gives me an exasperated look before kicking her heels off.

I sniffle. “What did Lance ever do to you?”

“Unimportant.” She strides into the kitchen and pours the last of a bottle of merlot into a glass. “But what I want to know is where you ran off to tonight. One minute, I see you on the dance floor with Prince Charming?—”

“Can we not call him that?” I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting off a sudden headache.

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