Page 91 of Puck Princess

“All of it.”

I smile, massaging the rough palm of his hand with my thumb. “Does it scare you?”

He thinks about it. “Yes and no. I know I want this. But whether or not I’ll be good at this… That’s something else.”

As much as my life feels unstable—everything so uncertain from my job to how I’m going to juggle being a mom in a very new relationship—the one thing I don’t question at all is Owen.

I lift my head and look down at him. The room is dim aside from the city lights. His skin is a silvery blue in the moonlight comingthrough the blinds. But I want to look into his eyes when I say these next words.

“Your childhood and the demons you’ve fought in the past are the reason you are cut out for this, Owen.” He swallows hard, but I keep going. “You were dealt a shitty hand in life, but you rose above it. You took what should’ve been a negative and turned it into your biggest strength. You take care of the people around you. You do it with everyone—the team, your sister, your friends, me and the baby. You have nothing to worry about. You’re going to be a great dad.”

He raises his hand, stroking my face and smoothing my hair back. Even as he smiles, I can tell he doesn’t believe it just yet. If this is the one place in his life where Owen Sharpe doubts himself, I’m all too happy to be his hype woman.

He may not believe it, but I’ve seen the truth. As he shows me more of who he is, I know he’s not just the man I want to raise this baby with, but he’s the man I want to spend my life with.

30

OWEN

The number that pops up on my phone is vaguely familiar. I’ve called it before. Once and only once to find out where Summer was. Why I thought Summer’s useless father would know a thing about what was going on in her life, I have no idea. He was useless then, and now, he has my number.

For a second, I consider dismissing the call and blocking him. But enough skeletons have worked their way free of the closet recently that I should probably take it.

“Yeah?” I answer with little to no expression in my voice. I’m headed home for the day. The plan, as of ten seconds ago, was to get in my car and head straight to Callie. Now, I have no idea what will come next.

“Owen? I didn’t think you’d answer.” Jack’s voice slurs through the speaker. He sounds even shittier than the last time we spoke. Back then, it took him five minutes to even remember who I was.

My mother sure knew how to pick them.

“That makes two of us. What do you want?”

“Alright, so we’re cutting right to it. Straight shooter. I like that about you, kid. Speaking of straight shooting, you've been killing it on the ice recently.”

Jack is Summer’s father, but he was never anything to me. We don’t talk hockey. We don’t keep in touch. He stuck around longer than most of the men she dated—long enough for her to deliver Summer. But it wasn’t long before he bailed, too.

I say nothing, forcing him to get to the point.

“I’m looking for Summer.”

There it is.

“Why?” The word shoots from my mouth like a bullet.

“Because she’s my daughter.”

“She’s been your daughter her whole life and that never mattered before. I don’t see what would be different now.”

“I want to meet my grandson.”

I go quiet again just to make him squirm.

“I just want to know if she’s okay,” he adds. “It’s been a long time.”

That’s the truth, but nowhere close to the whole truth.

Jack was a wheeler and dealer even back when he maintained the facade of having his shit together. He was a car salesman. His paychecks, his nice house, and his trophy wife were the reason the court slid in his direction when he wanted full custody of Summer. My mom, single and broke with one small mouth to feed already, didn’t have a chance.

Once that fight was over, he got into wheeling and dealing of other, less legal, sorts.

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