Page 63 of Puck Princess

And, over the last few days, between avoiding anything Spencer-related with Owen, avoiding Spencer himself at work, and avoiding my nosy cousin who has only the best intentions, I managed to come to a conclusion.

I think.

Hopefully.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” I say after we’ve had a moment to dig in. “About talking to Owen… or Uncle Randy.”

Her sushi roll nearly slips out of her chopsticks. “Did you finally tell them?”

“No. Not yet.”Maybe not ever.“Spencer has been…” I search for the word. “Behaving.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means I’ve hardly seen him. I don’t know if he’s just busy on the ice or with publicity or if he’s avoiding me.” I think on that for a second. “He’d be smart to avoid me.”

But he isn’t smart, so I’m still not sure what he’s up to. I’m not sure I want to know. As long as he stays out of my way, I’ll stay out of his. I take a spoonful of broth, savoring the warmth of it.

“Andyou’dbe smart to report him, no matter how well he’s ‘behaving.’”

I sigh. “It’s not that simple.”

Kennedy looks at me.

“But I will if anything changes,” I add.

The look goes deeper.

“I swear I’ll tell someone if he even looks at me wrong.”

After a long, judgmental beat, she points her chopsticks at me. “I’m holding you to it.”

I don’t know what that means, but it’s enough for her to drop the topic and let me enjoy my lunch, which I’m grateful for. It’s hard to feel soothed by soup when Spencer is on the brain.

The next day at work, I scan the VIP parking lot for Spencer the way I always do. Ever since San Francisco, he’s been quiet. There have been a few showboaty videos of him on the team’s socials, but Owen hasn’t mentioned anything about Spencer poking that bear. And he hasn’t cornered me into massaging his quads again.

He really does seem to be keeping his distance, which only makes me more sure that I’m making the right choice. What happened between us is—well, not ancient history, but it’s in the past. Maybe, just maybe, I can let this go.

The waters are so smooth recently, and I don’t want to be the one to stir them.

And I’m not.

As with almost every other time in my life, the one cannonballing into the smooth, peaceful waters of my life is Kennedy, who I hear shouting from the side of the arena.

I jog down the sidewalk and round the corner to find Spencer standing on the sidewalk, chest puffed and jaw tight, glaring down at Kennedy. She’s standing in front of him, half his size and ready to absolutely tear him apart by the looks of it.

“Kennedy!” I shout, running towards them.

“Get your trashy little body guard out of here,” Spencer snaps at me.

Kennedy gasps. “Trashy?”

“This is a VIP area. How did you even get in here?”

“My dad is the coach!” She gets on her toes so she can get right in his face. I grab her arm attempting to pull her back, but her feet are practically cemented to the ground. “And he could get your ass fired for everything you’ve done.”

So much for smooth waters. We’re in a whirlpool.

“Kennedy, leave it.” I pull her back, but she’s surprisingly strong.

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