Page 11 of My Pucking Valentine

I burst out laughing.

My shoulders shake. It’s a huge belly laugh because Eli is fucking ridiculous. Although he’s not completely wrong, at the same time, he totally is. Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I stand up, clutching my phone in one hand, and reach out to wrap my fingers around his shoulder with the other.

I knew this would be the reaction if anyone found out, which is why I wanted to keep everything under wraps until the day I died. I didn’t want to deal with any of it. I just wanted to be with Clara and play hockey. The rest of the world didn’t need to know our business.

“She’s my stepsister,” I announce.

They all stare at me with blank faces as if they’re still computing my words. It’s Henry who clears his throat and speaks first. He’s wearing an expression of confusion on his face as he does, though.

“But your stepsister, she’s still your sister?”

“By marriage, not by blood.”

Eli shakes his head once slowly. “My stepsister is very much my sister, Luke. I’m sorry, but this is wrong, and it’s blowing up in a bad way.”

Letting out a frustrated sigh, I place my balled-up fist on my hip. “I didn’t meet her until my parents got married. I was eighteen. I never lived in the same state with her, let alone the same house, until she moved to Cleveland for work a year ago.”

I can tell there is no way to justify this relationship with them. They clearly don’t understand it. Eli and his stepsister were raised as siblings together for years. I virtually had a text message relationship with my father from the time I was fourteen years old. I didn’t even visit him for holidays because all of them were during hockey season, and summers were for conditioning. I also didn’t want to visit him.

So, I met Clara when I was eighteen and she was sixteen. We only met that one time, at our parents' wedding, and then I didn’t see her again until I was twenty-four and she was twenty-two. We were strangers who hit it off like any other two strangers.

“Nobody else in the whole fucking world is going to look at it that way. They could have your contract nullified for this,” Pavel states.

He’s right.

This is reason number one fucking million why I didn’t want this to become public. “I fucked up,” I say. “I should never have taken her into that closet.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Eli hisses. “You shouldn’t have been fucking her at all. She’s your fucking sister.”

And that’s it.

Enough.

Taking a step forward, I dip my chin slightly and look down my nose at him. “Say anything else about Clara, and I’ll knock your goddamn head off,” I growl.

“Let’s all cool down,” Daniel calls out, holding his hands up. “We need to talk about this objectively.”

Stepping back, but only half a step, I narrow my gaze on Eli. He’s going to piss me the fuck off, best friend or not. Clara is off-fucking-limits, and they all need to understand that right goddamn now.

“I’m calm,” I grind out.

Pavel chuckles but, thankfully, doesn’t have anything to add to the conversation. Eli is the first to turn around and walk out of the room. The rest of the men follow behind, and I grab a pair of sweats off the floor before I do the same.

They are all waiting for me in the living room, and it seems as if we’re going to have a strategy meeting or something because they all look ready to work. Except Eli, who stands with his back against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest.

“The first thing you need to do is read the article I just sent you. From there, we’re here to help,” Henry murmurs.

Article. Fuck.

Ignoring all the notifications on my phone, I open the text thread between me and Henry and touch the link he sent me.

It’s a picture of me and Clara in that goddamn closet. Thankfully, it’s only from the chest up and not our hips, where we were connected. I should probably be fucking grateful for small miracles. But it’s the heading. The fact that even this article in one of the most popular gossip news places is calling Clara my sister.

Fuck.

I’m fucked.

I don’t think there is any walking this back.

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