Page 104 of Goalie's Obsession

And much like that day, she’s barely looking at me.

My father follows, buttoning his coat like he’s got somewhere far more important to be. He glances up at me then looks straight back down at his phone, like I’m a meeting he forgot to cancel.

Like he hasn’t seen me in months and didn’t even notice I was gone.

“Lucinda,” my mother says, shutting the door behind her. “Ethan’s gone off the radar again. If you're looking for him, we don't know where he is.”

I arch a brow. “Oh, hello to you too, Mother.”

She smooths her blazer like my sarcasm is just lint she can brush away. “I assumed you weren’t here for pleasantries.”

“I’m not,” I say evenly. “And you don’t need to worry. I already found him. He’s at Connor’s.”

That name makes her mouth pinch like she just tasted something sour.

“Well no wonder he's getting into mischief,” she mutters.

I feel the irritation spike in my chest, but I school my expression. Just like I’ve always done. Because that’s what you do around people like them.

I grip the strap of my tote bag tighter, fingers aching.

Mother adjusts her watch. “And how long were you planning on hiding him? Until the media circus arrives at our front door?”

I blink. “I’m sorry—what?”

Dad sighs, like I’m a child who failed to carry out basic instructions. “Your brother’s choices are his own, but they reflect on all of us. You know how this works. Just go about your day, Lucinda.”

Of course I know how 'this' works.Legacy above all.

“I’m not hiding anything,” I say. “I came to make sure he was okay.”

“Well, clearly he’s not,” my mother says, eyes scanning the estate like it's her only pride and joy in this world. “He’s made a spectacle of himself again. And now you’re back here, stirring things up, dragging this family’s name further into the gutter—”

That stings.

But I don’t flinch.

Not anymore.

“I didn’t draganything,” I say, voice even. “I'm helping mybrother.Yourson.”

My mother lifts her chin. “That’s the problem. You alwayshelp. Always insert yourself into situations that should’ve been handled discreetly. Like an adult.”

“Discreetly,” I repeat. “Right. With lawyers and hush money and a new PR agency on retainer.”

“If that’s what it takes,” my father says.

“Weraisedyou better than this,” my mother adds, lips curving into that perfect, practiced smile. “You were always so emotional. Always trying to save what can’t be saved.”

And there it is. The line that's carefully constructed in my parents fucked up mind to gut me. To put me firmly back in my place.

And maybe that used to break me. Maybe I used to twist myself into knots, chasing their impossible approval.

But not anymore.

I square my shoulders and look my mother dead in the eyes.

“No,” I say, calm and certain. “I’m strong because I care. I’m strong because Idon’twalk away.”

---