Page 188 of Revenge Puck

“I thought?—”

“You thought going to HR would suddenly make what you did less shitty?”

No. “Not for a second. But I thought it was a start.”

“A start?” she repeats. “Oh, so we’re rewinding to the beginning now?”

When I don’t answer, she studies me for several long moments, then sets her hands on the table.

“Okay,” she says, leaning toward me. “If this is your big reckoning, let’s do it properly.”

My stomach drops.

“I want the ugly version,” she continues. “This entire situation, all the not knowing, has had my stomach in knots. I’ve been sick about it, so the least you can do is give me the gory, gross details. Leave nothing out.”

I nod.

“Great,” Juliette says. “When did you decide?”

“Decide what?”

“To date me because you were mad at my brother.”

The air leaves my lungs slowly.

This is more painful than I thought it would be. “The night I was at your apartment and saw the pictures of him on your wall.”

There.

I said it.

Her lips part. “Wow, Aaron.”

Jesus Christ, I’ve never felt more like an asshole in my entire, miserable life.

“You were standing in my hallway.” She’s getting angry. “Looking at pictures of myfamilyand that’s when you thought—Oh, perfect! Revenge vehicle acquired! I’ll screw Juliette over!”

The words sting because they’re not wrong.

“I had walked in on him and Bailey,” I say slowly, choosing my words as wisely as I can. “I was humiliated. Bitter. My ego was crushed. And then I’m in your place, looking at those framed reminders that he’s everyone’s hero.”

Her chin lifts. “He’s my brother.”

“I know.”

“You saw pictures of us growing up, and that made you want to use me?”

“It made me want to hurt him,” I correct quietly. “This wasn’t about you—this started because I was angry at him. For a minute, you were the easiest way to get back at him.”

“For a minute,” she repeats.

“Yes.”

Her arms cross defiantly across the front of her baby-blue short-sleeve sweater. “And how long is a minute in Aaron Bishop time?”

“A few days,” I admit.

One. Two, tops.