Page 10 of Pucking Secret

“Okay, so our teacher, Miss Sybil, wanted us all to get to know each other,” Millie begins. “So we had to go around and talk about ourselves and our families.”

“Oh, that sounds interesting.”

“Yeah! And when it was my turn, I talked about you and Gram, and everyone was really excited when I told them you work for the Night Hawks… but then they asked about my dad, and I didn’t know what to say. I told them I don’t have a dad, but all my classmates said I had to have one because you can’t be born without a dad. Is that true?”

My heart sinks as she gazes up at me in confusion. I should’ve seen something like this coming. Little kids have no filter, so of course her friends would ask questions about her dad.

“Sweetie, we’ve talked about this before,” I say, pulling her up onto my lap. “Of course you have a dad, but he’s not able tobe with us. He lives far away, but that’s okay. Sometimes dads aren’t always around. Sometimes moms aren’t always around. You have me and Gram, and all your friends here with the Night Hawks. That’s pretty special, right?”

She purses her lips and appears thoughtful for a moment before she nods. “Yeah, that is special. It’d be nice to have a dad, but I like having you and Gram and everyone on the team, so that’s okay.”

She hops off my lap and hurries toward the door, her mind already somewhere else.

“Can I go skating now?” she asks, reaching for the door handle.

I have to swallow back the lump that rises up in my throat before I can reply. “Yeah, baby. Let me get your skates and we can go to the rink.”

Standing, I pull the tote bag I have her skates tucked away in from under my desk and follow her out the door. She skips down the corridor, chatting away about other aspects of her day, but I’m only half-listening. There’s a pang in my chest as I watch her, and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to have her father here with her. What if Owen had stuck around, or made any sort of effort to know her?

Not having her father around isn’t such a big deal to her now, but I know it’s going to become more important as she gets older, and I don’t know what I’ll tell her then. I can only hope that, when the real, hard hitting questions about her father are asked, that I have a better explanation than he abandoned us to go to Canada and never looked back.

CHAPTER FOUR: VANCOUVER

OWEN

Anger turns my vision a hot,burning red.

I don’t think I’ve felt this enraged since Gerald dragged my mom and I up here to Vancouver without giving us a real choice in the matter. He tore me away from my life in Wisconsin, and… her. The only girl I have ever loved. Back then, I was a kid and didn’t have much power to say what happened to me. Now, I’m an adult. I should be able to make my own decisions. There are some choices that shouldn’t be decided for a person without their input.

Like who I’m fucking marrying.

I slam open the door to my mom and stepfather’s luxurious house, with its crystalline chandelier and shimmering marble floors. I storm through the foyer.

“Gerald! Where the hell are you?”

The housekeeper, Mrs. Kirk, scurries down the hall from the kitchen, her brow furrowed and her mouth pressed into a thin, irritated line.

“Mr. Scott, what is the meaning of this?” she demands to know, blocking my path further into the grand house with itsvaulted ceilings. “You can’t just barge in here and make such a commotion?—”

“Where the fuck is he?” I snarl.

She appears startled by my show of temper, which I can understand. I never express my feelings so vividly. I always try to keep a level head and not make a scene, but I can’t control myself right now. He’s gone too far this time!

“There’s no need for that kind of language, Owen,” a deep voice pierces the air, bringing me to an immediate halt.

Clenching my jaw, I turn my glare up to Gerald, my stepfather. He stands at the top of the grand staircase of the house, scowling down at me. He’s a tall, slender man, with gray hair that is always slicked back, a thick mustache, and cold brown eyes. I’m actually several inches taller than he is, but he still takes every opportunity he can to look down his nose at me, so I don’t forget that he’s the one who’s in charge. He’ll position himself on the stairs like he’s doing now, or any other raised floor to put himself above me.

He’s an arrogant, narcissistic bastard.

I cross to the bottom of the stairs and dig my phone out of my pocket. Bringing up the article inThe Vancouver Sunthat triggered my anger, I wave my phone in the air.

“What the fuck is this?” I demand to know.

Arching his brow, Gerald descends the stairs. His expression is impatient, as if I’m a mosquito he’s ready to swat.

“What are you talking about?” He stops on the stair just above me. “What about this situation has caused you to behave in such a deplorable manner?”

I thrust the phone into his hand. “Why is Elise Richardson texting me asking me if I know anything about the two of us being engaged? We aren’t even dating!” Gerald barely glances at the phone and Elise’s text. She and I have known each other for about four years now, and we’re friends, but neither of us haveever expressed any romantic interest in the other. She’s not my type. I’m not hers.

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