Page 264 of Wrong Pucking Jersey

With the help of my dad and his list of connections.

Yet Owens stole it from me. The grand thief of assets and plentiful connections.

It was insulting.

He’d do anything to get my girl’s attention.

But she says she’s not materialistic and isn’t into money.

Bet she is now that the Vipers got those amazing contracts.

Fuckers.

The more I think about the last few weeks and what a disadvantageous ride I’ve endured, the harder it is not to get angry. To rage and shake in a pool of anger because I’m more deserving than all of those guys. More deserving to be on the ice and reach the top spot in the finales where we’d face the Toronto Maple Leafs and fuck them up.

Everyone would have no choice but to bow down to my success.

Contracts would be voided, and people from across the world would be begging me to join their teams and organizations. It would be a bloodbath to gain me, an NHL rising champion, and push me into the playoffs toward acquiring the Stanley Cup.

Mikayla would come back to me then…

I try to take another go at my cigarette, but it’s taken out of my grasp.

With an annoyed groan, I’m ready to face which staff or hospital advisor is here to scold me—one I can just bribe with money to keep their mouth shut—but my opened mouth can’t get the words out fast enough as I register who’s now smoking my cigarette.

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”

My heart skips a beat as I watch the stream of smoke that leaves the lips of my contender.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” My words aren’t close to welcoming.

He can’t be here. Why the fuck is he here?

“Why?” he questions, looking so fucking innocent.

It’s such a mindfuck in so many ways.

Looking at your bloody reflection.

“I’ve always wondered, do you dislike my existence because you hate seeing your younger copy waltzing around the town you’ve manipulated to play to your tune, or has Father imprinted in your brain that my appearance only signifies your replacement?”

He hit the nail on the head.

For both topics.

“I’m pretty sure it’s both,” he mutters with a smug look before taking another whiff of the cigarette. “Nice to see you, Brother. Sucks that it’s due to odd circumstances, but you seem to attract a lot of bad luck lately. I told you I had a good psychic shrink back in Moscow. She probably could figure out why everything bad always happens to you and not to anyone else?”

“That’s just bullshit,” I snap and glare at him. “Don’t speak such rubbish into existence.”

“So, you believe words have power?” he counters instead. “It’s good to see you’re beginning to broaden your spiritual viewpoint of the world. Almost worried you’d continue being a stubborn fool chasing the thrill of dangerous activities in hopes of reminding your mind, body, and soul that you’re still alive.”

“If you’re here to scold me, get the fuck out of my face,” I snap and try to grab my cigarette, but he moves to the ledge of the open sitting area. I have to grab hold of his dress shirt and force him back in haste before anyone sees him.

Or my copy.

“Don’t fuck me up!” I hiss.

“And how would I do that, Jayce?” He counters. “Oh, right. We look identical. Actually, I guess we don’t since your girl was able to see the difference immediately.”

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