Page 116 of Revenge Puck
“The usual brother-sister thing,” she says. “Declan has always been competitive—no one forced him to play hockey. He likes winning awards. Big personality. Always learning the hard way.”
“He’s still all those things.”
She smiles faintly. “What can I say, he likes to win.”
“That so?”
“Yeah.” Shehuffsa quiet laugh. “If Dad told us to take out the trash, he’d race me to the curb. Full sprint. Like there was a trophy waiting by the mailbox like an idiot.” She shakes her head. “It used to drive me insane. Now, I’m used to it.”
None of this information surprises me.
“Do his girlfriends mind?”
Juliette mulls this over. “He hasn’t had many.”
“Really?”
She nods. “He’s intense. Hockey comes first—as you very well know. Being the best comes first.” Her fingers twist together in her lap. “I think most girls figure out pretty quickly that they’re second to all that.” She pauses. “Blaire can’t stand him.”
I like this Blaire chick already.
Juliette chuckles to herself. “She says he sucks the oxygen out of every room and that he’s a garbage human.”
“Why would she say a thing like that?” My curiosity is piqued.
“This goes back to high school,” she says. “She had the biggest crush on him. I mean—massive. She even took skating lessons so they’d have something in common.” A sad smile tugs at her mouth at the memory. “Blaire finally got the courage to ask him to the winter dance and he said sure.”
“And?” I am hanging on her every word.
She nibbles her lip. “And he forgot.”
“He forgot?”
What a self-absorbed prick.
She nods again, slower this time. “He double-booked himself with a team dinner—I don’t remember the excuse. But he didn’t show to pick her up.” Her voice softens. “She waited for him at her house for over an hour.”
Jesus.
“And he just what…What did he do then?”
“He texted later,” Juliette says quietly. “Apologized. But of course, the damage had been done and now she hates his guts.”
Hates his guts.
Sounds familiar.
I clear my throat. “That’s brutal.”
Her head bobs. “Yup. Try being in a room with both of them at the same time…”
“And you?” I lightly run my fingers through her silky hair. It’s straighter now that it’s drying. “Were you the golden child with all this golden hair?”
“Hardly,” she says. “I was the quiet one. I didn’t need as much attention. It’s not like I was headed to a D1 school to play a sport.” A tiny shrug. “Everyone kind of knew early on Declan was going to go pro.”
Same.
I hate how easily I can picture it. The praise. The house, orbiting around the golden boy with a stick in his hand. Especially knowing what a bag of shit the dude is and how he treats women.
