Page 24 of Puck Princess

“Good morning,” she says, yawning through a sleepy stretch. Then she clocks my expression. “Or… not a good morning?”

“Up until five minutes ago, it was the best morning I’ve had in weeks.” I hand her my phone.

She scrolls through the article. “Jesus. Is he alive?”

“Unfortunately.”

She gives me a look. “I know we don’t like him, but killing him would cause a lot more problems.”

Callie starts to read. “Immediately after Solomon was found, a restraining order was filed against him by an unnamed woman.”

“Summer.” I hold my hand out for the phone and continue to read. “A photographer, who would like to remain nameless, told our reporter that Miles hired him months ago to track down this same woman, for reasons unknown. He was paid to photograph the woman’s family members, as well. Knowing what he does now, the man regrets not reporting the odd behavior to the police.”

“Would that be the photographer who was following us?” she asks.

“I don’t see who else it could be.”

“So the press was hounding us because they were trying to find Summer for Miles?” She shakes her head. “Tangled web.”

“I mean, I don’t think you getting pregnant scared any reporters off, but yeah, it sounds like it wasn’t really about us.”

“So…” Callie pinches her bottom lip between her teeth. “Is it over? Miles’s image is shot to shit. Summer has a restraining order on him and the proof to back it up. And if anyone had questions about why you beat him up yesterday, they won’t anymore.”

“I guess so.” I’m gonna need to sit with all of this for a second. I need time to process.

The whole reason I walked out of Callie’s hospital room was to protect her from me, but now…

Callie is watching me, her eyes warm. “I bet you’ll suit up for the next game.”

“Probably. Speaking of, I need to go.” I pad to the closet and tug on a t-shirt. “What about your job?”

“My job?”

“Yeah, that thing where you come to the arena and yell at immature hockey players about stretching more and not running their human bodies into the ground?”

I peek over my shoulder, and Callie is staring down at her lap. Everything about her is unsure, and I get it. Miles made that place hell for her. It’s no surprise she doesn’t want to rush back.

“Or you could get a job as a PT somewhere else? Somewhere quieter with less arrogant athletes.”

Callie lets out a sigh. “I don’t know, Owen. I’m questioning everything about myself right now.”

“Everything?”

She rolls her eyes. “Noteverything.”

I bend and give her a kiss, still amazed that we found our way back to this easy place.

“But I don’t know… maybe I should look into another field. I could be a podiatrist or something.” The way she wrinkles her nose tells me that’s not what her future holds.

I want to grab her face and tell her she’s the best damn PT most of the guys on the team have ever had. She’s good at her job. Shelistens to her patients, but she still makes the hard calls when someone is injured and has to ride the bench for a few weeks. Even when we hate her for it, no one can ever really hate her for it.

But I can tell now isn’t the time to dig into any of it. Right now, she needs to know that there’s no rush.

“I have to get to work, but today, your job is to relax.” I kiss her back into the pillows, desperate to crawl under the blankets and stay with her. “Stay here as long as you want, Cal. You look good in my bed.”

At the arena, the shitstorm blows as soon as I walk in the door.

I don’t even have to eavesdrop on all of the whispered conversations as I pass to know that everyone is talking about me. Yesterday, it might’ve set me off. Today, everything seems to be going my way. I don’t give a shit.