Page 268 of Wrong Pucking Jersey

I’m biting my bottom lip so hard, I swear it’ll break and bleed any second.

He’s getting under my skin with the truth revolving around my behavior since I was a kid.

“Or maybe you were being a good captain, stopping your fellow captain from committing suicide by running into a burning building. I mean, you still love him, yes?” he offers and doesn’t wait for me to counter him before adding something I’m not expecting. “Just like you love Wolfgang.”

“I DON’T LIKE EITHER OF THEM!” I scream and punch into his chest. “I’M NOT GAY!”

“Your obsession for six years tells me otherwise,” he argues and laughs. “Not to mention the way you look at Maddox on the ice. You know there are TikToks dedicated to your behavior when you watch their games from the stands or practice in the same rink as the Vipers. I’m intrigued that you haven’t picked up on Gaytok putting you and Maddox together. You even have a hashtag.”

“Shut. Up. Now!”

I can’t think about that now.

Or else I’d have to call Dad and get that hashtag shit wiped off every social media platform created.

“Let me guess. You’re thinking of how you can get Daddy Dearest to do more bidding for you, am I right?”

“Stop reading my fucking mind!” I snarl at him.

“Sadly, I can’t. We’re twins. The only difference is that you have a way harder time predicting me than I do you.” He turns around again. “I’ve talked too much. I’m leaving. Better clean up after yourself because your ex-girl and that mini crew are onto you, Jayce. Won’t be long before they find the can of worms. At least, before I let those photographs be posted.”

“I can’t give you my captain position!”

“Then find another way to get me what I want,” he argues. “Shouldn’t be hard. You got ‘connections,’ as you always like to boast. That’s why you’re the favorite. Why you’re in North America and have the privilege of permanent residence instead of me, who almost got blocked from entering this country over a stupid visa. You have so many privileges, yet you step all over it. It’s insulting if you ask me, who shares the same blood as you. Why do you get all the good things, and I’m left with nothing but trash? It’s something I ask myself every day.”

He’s leaving now, and I know he has every intention of leaving me hanging.

The words leave me before I can process them.

“I swear if you don’t stop that photographer from releasing shit, I’ll just get Dad to deal with—”

Everything happens in a blur. My eyes widen to full capacity while my head is pounding from the smashing force of it hitting the cement wall behind me. I can’t get a single breath out, the death grip around my throat making it almost impossible to do so.

My lungs are burning in seconds, the mere idea of not having oxygen sending me into an internal frenzy of panic. My eyes lock on the lethal ones staring up at me, and now I see what the world sees when I’m angry.

The version of me that sees nothing but red when I lose it.

Only Jamie’s more frightening.

“You dare lay a dirty finger on my Siri, and I’ll ruin you so fast, you’ll have to fucking kill yourself to get out of the pit I’ll leave you in.”

My whole body is frozen as I hang in his hold, his grip only tightening as he growls menacingly at me.

I suddenly get it. His reaction tells me two things.

Iris and Siri are the same person, the photographer from Moscow with the pucking autograph bullshit.

My brother is totally smitten with her, to a level of possession greater than how mine was with Mikayla.

I want to think of this as some sort of advantage, but I can’t when I’m seeing black spots.

This man would kill his own twin brother for this girl.

“?? ???? ??????.”

Can’t breathe.

He drops me the next second, my body hitting the ground loudly as I gasp and cough.

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