Page 5 of Revenge Puck

I am emotionless.

“Well.” I clasp my hands, eyes locking on Declan. “Hope she was worth our friendship, you backstabbing piece of shit.”

He isn’t my brother anymore.

“You wanted to fuck me over?” I step back out the door, lowering my voice, holding his gaze. “Congratulations. I willnotforget this.”

ONE

JULIETTE

I have a big girl job.

A shiny, grown-up, brag about it job.

On Monday I will officially be the Player Engagement Coordinator for the Michigan Ice Wolves, which sounds so very polished and important and comes with a title. But more than that? This job is meaningful.

It means mental health resources, community outreach, charity partnerships, family support, education programs. I get to give back on a large scale—with the funding and reach of a massive organization that can affect real change.

Better yet?

My brother plays for the team, which makes it more personal. Plus, I’ll get to see him more often.

Declan is always traveling. Alwaysbusy.

Skating, lifting, exercising. Playing, practicing. Spending time with his teammates. Which means I rarely get to spend time with him. Sure, we text—but that’s not being present.

Hockey has always been a part of our family’s DNA; as soon as Declan could walk, our parents had him on skates. As soon as he was old enough to join a club, he was trying out. He’s been chasing a championship as long as I can remember.

Hockey isn’t just his job or his hobby.

It’s his identity.

This job puts me in his world—not only as his sister, watching from the family section, but as someone who understands the structure, the pressure he’s under, the weight of it all.

I’ll be in the building, and I’ll get to see him more often, and now we’ll have more in common!

Not to mention, the charitable aspect of it.

Giving back to the community. To children.

To families in need.

I cannot wait to make a difference in people’s lives.

The thought sends a thrill down my spine, and I’m here to raise a glass and toast to my cubicle and benefits and expense account and a company laptop and?—

“Earth to Juliette. Wherefore art thou, Juliette?” A male voice cuts into my musings, interrupting my thoughts, and I glance up at Preston Bradly, the man I’ve been seeing for a month.

Tall.

Polished.

Effortlessly confident in a way that feels oddly forced, but I give him a pass for it. The loafers he wears without socks? Debatable. Collared, button-down shirts.

Great hair.

Smells expensive.