Page 131 of Revenge Puck

The revenge plot.

“In Aaron’s defense,” Storm says carefully, “I’d also like to date your sister.”

“Shut the fuck up, Storm.”

He lifts both hands in surrender. “I’m just saying. She’s off limits, I get it. But objectively, she’s a solid ten. I understand the appeal.”

“This isn’t funny,” Declan snaps.

“No,” Storm agrees, dropping the humor. “It’s not.”

Declan’s stare never leaves mine. “You think I don’t see what you’re doing? I get caught, and suddenly you’re real interested in my family.”

Storm studies me over the cage on his mask. “You gotta admit. The opticsaren’tgreat.”

Declanhuffs. “Optics? He walked in on me and Bailey, and now he’s conveniently dating my sister. That’s motive.” His frown gets deeper. “My sister is not a pawn.”

Storm exhales. “Fuckin A this is messy.”

Declan leans in. “If Juliette gets hurt because you’re trying to make a point?—”

“I’m not making a point,” I lie.

“Then what the fuck are you doing with her?”

I don’t have an answer fast enough.

Kennedy shoves me, gloves planted in the center of my chest, pushing with the kind of force that shows he’s all but forgotten we’re in the middle of the goddamn ice. In front of thousands of people.

I damn near lose my balance when he shoves me a second time.

“You motherfucker,” I yell, desperate to shove back.

Storm plants himself between us again, shoving a glove into each of our chests.

“Christ, enough already! Whatever unresolved revenge drama you two have going on, it can wait until after we win.”

Declan tries to sidestep him. “I’m going to end you.”

“End me for sleeping with Juliette?” I taunt with a laugh. “You looking to lose more teeth, Kennedy?”

His nostrils flare behind his face mask. “Say her name one more goddamn time.”

I smile. “Juliette.”

Storm groans. “Oh my god, you assholes.Stop.”

He glances toward the stands, straight to the family section designated for parents, wives, partners, children, and friends of players, and gives a low whistle.

Declan and I follow his gaze.

And there she is.

Front row of that section.

Laughing at something the woman next to her is saying, bright blue knit hat on her head, jersey pulled down over a hoodie, mittens wrapped around a beer, oblivious to the fact that her name was weaponized at center ice.

“What are you going to do?” I laugh, leaning on my stick. “Ground her? Take away her car keys?”