Page 139 of Puck Prince

“I’ll feel better after a shower.” I snatch my clothes out of an actual dresser drawer and head down the hall to his second bathroom—the luxurious perks of living with Owen never end.

“Callie, I don’t mind?—”

“What?” I shout a bit too loud, pulling the bathroom door shut. “I can’t hear you. I’m already in the shower.”

He’s shaking his head in obvious disapproval when I slam the door closed and lock it.

Honestly, I’m with Owen on this one. I’m getting close to the second trimester. I would’ve thought the morning sickness would be easing up by now, not getting worse. Part of me wants to call into work and then go to the doctor after Owen leaves. But there’s every chance he’ll stay back to take care of me if I call in, and I’m not about to have him sitting there when the nurse says, “It’s normal for pregnant women to throw up. Are you taking prenatals?”

I take a ripping hot shower, trying to let the hot water and steam breathe some color into me, but when I get out, I still look like I’m answering the casting call for the next Tim Burton movie.

After applying a little mascara and a lot of concealer, I decide it’ll have to do. I just have to make it through the day without getting sick again.

For the most part, my day is quiet. The guys run their drills in the morning, and then go out for lunch together, so I don’t see much of anyone. It gives me time to hide in the training room and get paperwork done. While I haven’t spewed since this morning, I still don’t have much of an appetite. I force myself to pick at a deconstructed turkey sandwich. Fine, bread. All I can stomach is bread.

I’m enjoying my deconstructed sandwich when the door opens. When I look up, I stop mid-chew.

“Well if it isn’t Owen’s domestic partner.” Miles is grinning as he saunters into the training room.

I force myself to swallow and work hard to keep my expression neutral.

I haven’t spent any time alone with Miles since the charity ball, which has been absolutely on purpose. When I saw him walking towards the training room the other day, I almost ran in the other direction. When Miriam asked where I was going, I mumbled something about a “smoke break.”

Maybe I’m being overly dramatic about him. He didn’t actually do anything. Not really.

But as he closes the space between us, close enough that I have to take a step back, I feel like I should go with my gut.

I’m getting the same hair-raising, tingly spine feeling I got when I saw Spencer at Pour Boys.

“I’m pretty sure ‘girlfriend’ is the commonly accepted term.”

Miles mindlessly rifles through the supplies I have spread across my desk. “Just how serious are the two of you anyway?”

“Didn’t you hear? The wedding is this Saturday.” I keep my tone light, but I take a step back, putting the massage table between us.

He laughs, tossing a roll of KT tape in the air and catching it. “Move-in-together serious, it seems.”

Even if the guys on the team are some of Owen’s best friends, he’s a private guy. I doubt he just barged into the locker room and announced he was shacking up with the physical therapist.

I don’t respond, but Miles doesn’t need my input for this conversation.

“Meet-the-family serious, maybe? Although—” He clicks his tongue like he’s disappointed. “Owen doesn’t have a lot of family, what with his mom being dead and his dad being an MIA sperm donor.”

I don’t need anyone to know exactly how little I know about my new roommate.

“Did you need something?” I ask.

Miles’s mouth is tipped with slight amusement.

Suddenly, I feel sick again.

His eyes slip away, and he paces the room slowly. His hands are in the pockets of his gym shorts, but I don’t feel any safer. I feel like I’m locked in a cage with a predator.

“No, I guess you’re right. He has some family. Siblings, I think? I just can’t quite remember?—”

“He has a sister,” I blurt out. As soon as I do, I realize I probably shouldn’t have. I just want to give him whatever he’s fishing for so he’ll get out.

Miles looks at me, the smirk back. “A sister. That sounds right. Have you met her?”

---