Page 38 of Puck Princess

It’s a silent stand-off.

He sits perfectly still on the table in front of me, and I stand perfectly still next to him.

I don’t want to touch him, and he knows.

Being in a room with him is more than enough to trigger an avalanche of memories I’d rather black out.

If I touch him…

I could refuse. I could tell Owen who Spencer is. I could go to Uncle Randy and tell him the truth. I could take my story to themedia and tell everyone that I’m the woman he assaulted back in college. All the rumors are true. Spencer Santos is a monster.

I could put an end to all of it now.

But… I can’t.

Not now.

People are on my side when it comes to Miles. But get one hockey player fired, shame on them. Get two hockey players fired?

The shame is going to be firmly on me.

Everything Owen and I are working to repair, from our careers to our reputations to our relationship, would be destroyed, and I can’t let that happen.

Not to mention, the Scythes desperately need a winger.

So, with a steadying breath, I put my hands on Spencer’s shoulders.

He moans at the contact.

It’s a sound I’ve heard before. A sound that came out of him while I was crying, begging.

The wave of nausea that hits me is enough that I think my knees may buckle.

“As great as that feels, Callie,” he breathes, “that’s not where I need you.”

I glance over at Lance and Dax. They’re too busy talking about some college hockey game to even notice us.

“What do you need?” My words are quiet.

His voice is even lower. “I think you know.”

My heart picks up to a frantic sprint. “No, Spencer, I don’t.”

“Lower.”

I can’t believe this is happening. It doesn’t feel real. He’s using what probably appears to be a normal PT session to torture me. If I make a big deal about it, I’ll look crazy. He’s always been great at making me feel crazy.

Slowly, and as clinically as I can, I move my hands farther down his back.

“Lower,” he says again. “Where it’s tight.”

I swallow hard, keeping a stranglehold on my composure. “Can you show me where the problem is?”

“Come on Callie, you used to be so good at this. But since you asked, it’s my quads.”

Of course it is.

“Lay down,” I grit out.

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