Page 191 of Revenge Puck
“Hmm?”
“Don’t make me regret this.”
THIRTY-ONE
JULIETTE
It’s been two days since I saw Aaron at work.
Two days since we texted.
Two days since he promised he’s going to make things right with Declan.
Ugh, my brother.
If I have to hear one more time from Blaire what a mess his personal life is, I might scream.
Yes, he cheated.
Yes, he didn’t seem to care about anyone but himself in the situation.
Yes, he deserves for someone to put him in his place.
But this cryptic text?—
Meet me at the rink. After hours.
—feels like a new level of drama for Declan. So much so that I almost don’t go. Why should I? He and I have so much unfinished business.
Instead, I find myself turning into the practice facility parking lot at exactly 8:00 p.m., because that’s when I wastold to be here and, apparently, I am incapable of ignoring my brother, even when I probably should.
The lot is nearly empty when I pull in.
It’s eerie.
The giant gray-and-blue Ice Wolves banner stretches across the front of the building, flapping lazily in the wind. The whole place looks abandoned.
It’s dark, no players walking to their cars, no security directing traffic, no people milling about. No fans hanging around the entrance for autographs, no sense of life.
It feels so wrong.
The rink is never this quiet. Even on off-days there’s someone inside—trainers, interns, equipment guys.
Tonight?
Nothing.
I inhale the scent of ice and sweat that’s still there, but it’s faint, like an echo of itself. No music pumping through the speakers. No smell of popcorn or stale beer.
Just the hum of the Zamboni.
I follow the sound toward the rink and push through the heavy doors to the stands, standing at the top and looking over the arena.
There are lights on over the ice.
And there’s the big, blue Zamboni, circling slowly, smoothing the surface in lazy, methodical lines.
I scan the arena for my brother, stepping down the concrete steps to the rows of empty stands, arms folded against the chill. The air is cold enough to bite at my cheeks.
