Page 123 of Revenge Puck

The one with no talent other than decent grades.

The sister who, in college, guys only wanted to meet so they could meet Declan.

My brother sees it written on my face and curses under his breath, and I watch as a mask of regret clouds his expression.

“Jules,” he says softly, removing his hat to run a hand through his hair. “You’re being ridiculous. You’re beautiful and funny and smart. This isn’t about that.”

He cannot even validate my feelings.

What a dick.

“Then what is it about?” My voice wavers despite my best effort, tears threatening to spill from my eyes.

Declan looks trapped.

He’s stepped in the muck and can’t find his footing.

“You’re right. This is about him,” he says finally.

“In what way?” I whisper.

He hesitates again.

Always with the hesitation.

“He’s competitive,” Declan says carefully. “You know that.”

Big deal.

“So are you. So is Dad. So are all your friends.”

“He’s competitive in a different way.”

“In what way?” My pulse is pounding in my ears now. Nothing he’s telling me is making sense—he’s talking in circles.

Declan presses his lips together. “Sometimes pride makes people stupid.”

I stare at him.

“And you think Aaron isstupid?”

“I think men don’t separate their ego fromotherthings.”

Other things? What on earth is he talking about? All he’s doing is giving me vague warnings and cryptic nonsense, and it’s wearing thin on my nerves.

“Why would I care if he has an ego?” I fire back. “I was literally raised in a house with you.”

He drags a hand over his face again, then settles his hat back on his head, bending the brim like he needs something to do with himself. “Jules. He and I?—”

“Don’t get along?” I cut in. “That sounds like a you problem. Stop projecting.” My pulse is pounding now. “Why does everything have to be about you? Why can’t you be happy for me?”

He opens his mouth like he’s about to argue, then stops himself.

“Either tell me what he did,” I say, standing up, packing up my laptop and charger, “or stop trying to warn me off him with zero information.”

“Jules—”

“Nope.” I shake my head. “Nope, you don’t get to plant seeds of doubt and supply no information.”