Page 267 of Wrong Pucking Jersey

“How do you know all this shit? You’re not supposed to be here.”

“You’re right,” he admits. “But I have a committed photographer of my own who loves to overanalyze social media like a plague and connect the dots.”

He seems almost proud of such a predicament, leaving me to wonder if this individual is the photographer, Iris.

“My puck bunny from Moscow owes me, and what better way of returning that favor than by blackmailing my own brother?”

“Blackmail?” It’s my turn to laugh. “With what evidence?”

“With a few cartridges full of footage that could be dropped on one social media account and spread like wildfire, so everyone knows the truth of what you’ve orchestrated.”

“Why aren’t you defending me?” I snap at him. “You’re my brother! You’re supposed to be supporting me!”

“I am,” he argues. “I’m supporting you by delaying that photographer from exposing you. All in exchange for helping her with her stupid intern assignment that’s centered on me and the ways of building a noob hockey team into a champion-worthy one. Boring shit for a final assignment, but if it means she’ll leave me alone now that she has my autograph, I’ll be forever grateful.”

“Autograph? As if you’re fucking popular. Who would want that shit?”

“Pucking,” he corrects me, knowing that stupid term grinds my gears. During the two years dating Mikayla, I forced myself to use that dumb word, and look where it got me.

Being teased by my fucking younger brother.

“Fuck you.”

“Admit it. The idea of me getting asked for a pucking autograph like a celebrity grinds your gears because you haven’t achieved a quarter of what I have. It also proves that I’m ten times more popular in Moscow than you are here in North America. Yet you’re the apparent favorite of the family, and I’m the ‘clean up after my brother, who can’t even keep a hockey position without fucking it up for all the Winchesters.’”

“That’s not fucking true.”

“And yet your whole career is on the line if I let Siri release those photos.”

He really is blackmailing me.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“That’s not what you want to say,” he counters. “The sad reality of your comment is that I would, older brother.” Suddenly, he spins around, attempting to walk away.

“Where the fuck are you going?” I don’t realize I’ve already stopped him by grabbing his arm firmly.

“Hmm? Didn’t you say I wouldn’t ruin your life by getting Siri to release all the photos she’s been gathering of you and your whereabouts since coming to North America? Apparently, she’s fascinated at the idea of fucking up your life and helping me get what I want.”

Who’s this Siri chick? Is she the same as the Iris photographer?

“What do you want?”

I get his attention when he looks over his shoulder to see the hint of desperation in my eyes.

“If I really told you what I wanted, you wouldn’t give it to me,” he admits.

“Try me!”

That makes him smile so wide, it’s sickening to see what it looks like on my spitting image.

“I want to be captain of a North American team,” he reveals. “By any means necessary.”

He wants my place.

“No.” I shake my head at the idea. “Take Maddox’s place.”

“Is that why you tried to stop him from entering the building?” he asks and turns around so I can’t hold him back. “Wished the collision would have fucked up his limbs, so he’d be out of commission? You like to do that often. Act upon that spiked force of anger that your plans are going to be spoiled and tackle shit. If you’re not tackling, you’re punching and revealing people’s dark secrets in front of mass crowds, so your tantrum is used as ammo against those who infuriate you.”

---