All Chapters of PUCK ME, STEPBROTHER: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Playing along.Julian's POVI wake up the next morning feeling like someone drove a truck through my skull. My head pounds with every heartbeat, my throat feels like sandpaper, and my stomach churns in ways that make me want to stay in bed forever.“What the fuck happened” I mutter.Memories of last night flash back slowly, pieces fitting together like a broken puzzle. The business dinner. Dad is showing up and talking to Bryson. Me dragging some blonde girl into a corner and letting her blow me just to get the image of my stepbrother out of my head.Then the after party. I'd gone with a group of business brats - kids whose parents run half the city and who always know how to throw the kind of parties where money feels like water. I'd drowned myself in expensive whiskey, eager to forget hockey drills and the suffocating weight of everyone's expectations.For a while, I'd even managed to let loose. Played drinking games with kids who understand what it's like to have fathers who demand

Protective InstinctsJulian's POVI keep my silence at the party when Jasper asks about Bryson's game. The words stick in my throat, and I can't bring myself to say anything. Part of it's because I'm conflicted about whatever weird bond we have, and part of it's because I don't want anyone figuring out we're stepbrothers.But when Bryson's face falls and he walks out, something twists inside my chest. Something that feels uncomfortably like guilt."Where are you going?" Jessica asks, sliding closer to me. She's been flirting with me all night, making it pretty clear what she wants."Bathroom," I lie, already moving toward the door.“Let me come,” she says, jumping off her chair.“Nah, I'm good,” I say, letting her know I'm not in for shit this night.I follow Bryson outside, keeping my distance at first. The campus is quieter now, most people are either at parties or studying. I'm about to call his name when I see someone else approach him.An older guy, disheveled and rough-looking,

Losing ControlJulian's POVThe second period begins and I skate out feeling sharp and ready, my muscles coiled with energy from the intermission. But my mind is buzzing with anger that I can't seem to shake. Marcus is on the opposing line, and every time we pass each other during play, he leans in close enough that his breath fogs against my helmet."Looking a little slow out there, Jules," he mutters during a line change, his voice carrying that familiar mocking tone that used to make my stomach twist in high school.I try to ignore him and focus on the play. But his voice cuts through everything else - the crowd noise, my teammates calling plays, even my own heartbeat thundering in my ears."Remember when you used to be good at this?" Marcus says as we skate past each other near center ice, close enough that I can see the smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "What happened to that guy?"My jaw clenches so hard I can feel my teeth grinding together, but I keep skating, forcing

Off the IceJulian's POVI come to practice with a heavy heart, dragging myself through the doors like I'm walking to my own execution. Coach suspended me from the ice, but he still expects me to show up all week for off-ice training. Something about how the main season is around the corner and they don't want me completely out of rhythm.Each day, someone from the team gets assigned to join me, which is basically a punishment for them too. A way to make sure I don't slack off while I'm banished from real hockey. I hate it. I feel angry and resentful, and mostly I keep to myself, counting down the days until this nightmare week is over.At least I don't have to sit on the bench watching everyone else skate circles around Bryson like he's the new team hero.I arrive early and grab a corner spot in the locker room, shoving my headphones in before anyone can try to talk to me. The music helps drown out the noise when my teammates start trickling in, loud and careless like always."Mornin

Talent and desires.Julian's POVMy body betrays me while I'm spotting Bryson during his squats. The closeness, the way he moves under the weight, the small sounds he makes when he's pushing through the hardest reps - it all hits me in ways I don't want.By the time he finishes his last set, I'm half-hard in my shorts, and the realization makes my stomach twist with disgust and confusion. That's why I turn away so quickly when he tries to thank me, walking to the other side of the gym before he can notice anything.I grab my water bottle and pretend to check my phone, waiting for my body to calm down. When Bryson finally leaves for the ice, I'm still dealing with the tension in my shorts that won't go away no matter how much I try to ignore it.It's just adrenaline, I tell myself.Hours later, I pack my things and head toward the exit. But as I pass the rink, something makes me stop and look through the glass.Bryson is out there skating with his helmet off, his dark hair messy and ch