Page 108 of Puck Prince

We tie up the game and, with less than a minute to go, I’ve never felt calmer.

Heath gets control of the puck and passes it to Lance. Without even trying, I find the opening. Lance passes it to me, and as if it was choreographed, I sink the winning shot.

32

CALLIE

I can’t believe that just happened. That I just did that.

I’ve never done anything like that before.

Let me rephrase: I’ve never given a guy a handjob in public before. And I have definitely never given a guy a handjob at work in an arena loaded with twenty thousand people before.

Part of me is shocked. It was reckless. And unprofessional. I’m already on parole as far as workplace romances go and that little stunt would get me booted out of the Scythes organization before Owen could say,You happened.

I chew on the corner of my mouth to try to stop from smiling, but it’s no use. Because the other part of me—the part that knows this is different—can’t stop smiling.

Owen is not Spencer.

I clean up the table and go to the stands to watch the rest of the game. Owen is unstoppable. I think he’s an idiot for going out on the ice with a possible sprain, but I cheer and clap and shout along with everyone else as the boys turn the game around.

My phone buzzes, and I pull it out.

It’s an unknown number with a website link. Spam, probably. Someone trying to gain access to the dozens of dollars in my savings account.

I’m about to block the number and move on, but then I catch a familiar name in the article title.

I click on the link without breathing. The arena around me goes silent as I’m redirected to the newspaper of the university where I used to work.

“Rumors at an all-time high over whether or not Spencer Santos is guilty of sexual harassment after a staff member allegedly left the team this season. No one has come forward with any solid allegations against Santos as of yet, but…”

I think I might be sick. I think I might pass out. I think I might be sick and then pass out. But before I can sit down or run to the nearest trash can, another text comes through from the same unknown number.

UNKNOWN:Long time no see. I think it’s safe to say you need to be a little more careful, sweetheart. People are getting nosy. I suggest you keep your mouth shut.

I can’t seem to find my breath. My heart is slamming against my ribcage. It’s Spencer; I know it is. My eyes sweep around the arena, wondering if he’s here. If he’s watching me.

I left my job. I left town. I thought it was over. I tried to move on, but apparently, he hasn’t.

When my phone buzzes again, I flinch.

UNKNOWN:If you even think about saying anything to anyone, it’s going to get ugly. You’ve gotten close to people since we were together. I would hate for something bad to happen all because you couldn’t put a muzzle on the pretty little mouth of yours.

“Callie!” Kennedy’s voice makes me jump again. “Are you really on your phone while your boyfriend is killing it out there?”

I slam my phone screen against my chest and then shove it into my pocket before she can see.

My heart is lodged in my throat, but Kennedy just smirks and nudges me in the side. “I knew you were looking at pics of your man. That’s okay, everyone else in the state of Texas is, too. You're the envy of Houston.”

I don’t know what she’s talking about—I can barely think about anything at all—until I glance around the stands. There are some people fully turned away from the ice so they can look at me.

Is he here? Can he see me?

Suddenly, the crowd erupts as Owen makes the winning shot.

Everyone is looking from him on the ice to me in the stands, waiting for my reaction. I slap a smile on my stunned face as Owen high-fives his teammates before turning in my direction. His eyes lock on mine. A grin spreads across his face, and he leaps over the rails, trekking his way up to me.

I have to admit, in the middle of everything that just happened, I am relieved to see him heading in my direction.

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