Page 170 of Revenge Puck

Don’t let it bother me?

He casually suggested to me that the man I’m—What? Falling in love with? Sleeping with? Risking my job for?—might be using me to get back at my brother.

But sure!

No big deal!

I cannot sit at this desk, pretending to care about policy language from corporate, while players in the locker room are gossiping about my relationship with details I don’t have.

I want to throw up.

I want to cry.

I need to leave.

I grab my phone first, fingers clumsy around it. Then my purse. My laptop bag. The zipper snags, and I nearly lose it right there, jaw clenching as I tug it free.

“Hey,” Garrett says, alarm creeping into his voice now. “Jules?—”

I shrug past him.

Literally shoulder him aside, checking him on my way out, mind already trying to solve the riddle before the pieces have finished falling, words ricocheting around my skull like loose pucks, slamming into the boards, rebounding, coming at me from every angle.

Dick swinging contest…Revenge…Get back at your brother…Direct hit.

Aaron would never.Would he?

I pursued him.

Didn’t I?

If Aaron is using me?—

If this has been some sick, twisted revenge plot?—

I don’t know which would hurt more: losing him…

Or realizing I never had him at all.

TWENTY-EIGHT

AARON

There’s a knot in my chest that will not loosen.

It’s small but manageable, brought on by self-reproach and, yeah, okay—shame. Guilt.

My phone sits face-up on the bench beside me while I lace up my skates, and for every minute that passes with no reply, the knot tightens.

Three texts sent.

Zero responses.

No read receipts, no bubbles from typing.

You need to tell her all this before someone else does…

I squash Sutton’s cautionary warning down because, hours from now, I may be sitting across a table from Juliette, her hand tucked in mine, finally telling her everything.