Page 68 of Puck Prince

He nods. “Yeah. CPS. The system is fucked-up, and I’d like to see kids and women in bad situations have a better chance.”

I literally don’t know what to say to that. “Surprised” doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“Speaking of which,” he goes on, “there’s this charity event coming up. Last I heard, the focus is on sexual assault victims. My team and I are making an appearance, and I’d love it if you came with me, Callie Coleman. As my date.”

For a moment, I just stare at him. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was being genuine.

I open my mouth to answer, but he beats me to it. “I was just kidding a minute ago. I’m a center. Of course I know how to work the middle ground.”

I laugh a little, though my heart seems to be caught somewhere in my chest. “Yeah. Fine. I’ll go with you. But only because I signed a contract saying I have to.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

“And because you probably need to polish your image a little after what happened at the last game.”

“A ‘thank you for saving me’ would suffice.”

I shake my head and give him a playful shove, and he catches my hand. And doesn’t let go.

Our eyes find each other.

Our mouths are close enough that if one of us tipped our chin, our lips would touch.

I definitely like the idea of that way more than I should.

Suddenly, his phone rings. We both jump back. When he answers, his voice is husky and choked.

“Yeah?”

I can’t hear what the other person is saying, but the voice is definitely female.

Owen is already on his feet, tearing across his apartment. “I’ll be right there.”

He seems to have forgotten I’m here at all. He’s fumbling with his keys in the hallway when I step out of his apartment, and he yanks the door closed and locks it, still mumbling to whoever the woman on the other end of the line is.

Nothing like being cast aside.

Owen dashes to the stairs, and I slink back to Kennedy’s.

I’m about to open the door when?—

“Callie?”

I turn to see Owen. He’s still on the phone, halfway down the flight of stairs, some unreadable expression on his face.

“It’s Boston Cream Pie,” he explains. “My favorite dessert… Just so you know.”

22

OWEN

The fear in Summer’s voice was enough to yank me out of the moment with Callie (a moment I was very much enjoying) and rush me out the door. I didn’t even explain what was going on—not that I could have. I just ran, which I feel bad about.

But ever since my sister’s baby daddy got her pregnant and left her high and dry, I’ve wanted to dispose of the man in a violent fashion. Even more so if he’s making threats.

He’s coming here,she said.

Guess he wants to die.

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