Page 106 of Goalie's Obsession

The same boy who used to steal cookies for me when I cried. The one who held my hand when I was scared of the dark. The one who stopped coming home because he was too ashamed to look me in the eye.

I step forward before I can second-guess it.

He tenses like he’s expecting a punch, not a hug. But I wrap my arms around him anyway, tight and fierce, my face pressed into his shoulder like I can still find the pieces of him I used to know if I just hold on long enough.

He freezes.

Then slowly, his arms come around me. His chin drops to my temple, and his chest rises with a shaky inhale.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“I know,” I breathe. “Me too.”

Connor clears his throat softly behind me. When I pull away from Ethan, he’s standing just a few feet back, watching the moment unfold with that quiet, storm-eyed look of his.

“Come inside.” He opens the door and holds it for me. “It’s cold as hell out here.”

I nod, brushing at my cheek as I step past him. Ethan follows without a word, and together we shuffle into the familiar warmth of Connor’s apartment.

Connor heads toward the kitchen, muttering something about grabbing drinks, but the second he opens the fridge, he lets out a low groan.

“Are youkiddingme?” he grits. “Ethan, did you drink all my beer?”

Ethan flops onto the couch with a guilty shrug. “I was stressed. I'll buy more, I swear.”

I raise a brow at him. "With what money exactly?"

Ethan shrinks under my scrutiny as Connor shuts the fridge, straightens, and turns back toward us. He walks slowly toward the couch, rolling up the sleeves of his hoodie, and then exchanges a long, loaded glance with Ethan.

Oh no.

I know that look.

“We’ve been going over the details,” Connor says carefully, coming to a stop just a few feet from me. “And we might’ve figured out a way to handle this.”

“What kind of way?”

I move to sit beside Ethan on the couch, waiting for the rest. Waiting to be looped in, like always.

Connor steps forward and gently places a hand on my arm. “Lucy,” he says softly. “Why don't you let us handle it this time? We’ve got it.”

I blink up at him. "What do you meanwe'vegot it?"

Connor glances at Ethan again. Then back at me. “Me and your brother. We’ve got a plan.”

Something splinters low in my chest. “Aplan,” I repeat.

He nods in a way that's apparently supposed to be calm. Reassuring. Like that tone of his is supposed to fix everything.

I pull my arm out from beneath his hand.

Ethan shifts awkwardly, like he's sensing my rising temper better than anyone ever has. “We weren’t trying to—”

“Weren’t trying towhat?” I snap. “Involve me in my own life? In myfamily’sdisaster?”

Connor frowns. “We didn’t want to drag you deeper, Luce. You're already stressed.”

I stare at him like I don’t even recognize the man standing in front of me.

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