Page 11 of Goalie's Obsession

"It wasexcruciating. She asked for my autograph on her arm in permanent marker. Pretty sure it's tattooed there now."

Ethan shakes his head and sets his empty glass down with a soft clink.

“Well,” he drawls, smirking as he stands. “Guess if someone bids on you at the auction this year… it’ll keep you from making my sister your personal recliner again.”

He stands, tossing a few bills on the bar before slapping my shoulder. "Don't be a stranger, Walsh. Catch up again soon."

And just like that, I've gone fromhe can't know,to…

Shit. He fucking knows.

Chapter Three

Lucy

TheballroomatIcehawkHQ smells like polished wood, money, and just a hint of panic.

Kind of like my mother's house whenever she's hosting a party, now I come to think of it.

I stand in the center of the Icehawks’ newly renovated event space atThe Nest—a section of the arena that’s been transformed into a glittering, gala-ready dream all thanks to the sparkling trophy that overlooks the room.

Gold uplighting shimmers along the floor-to-ceiling drapes, the Iron Ridge Icehawks logo glows against the far wall, and sleek black cocktail tables gleam under the dimmed chandeliers.

It’s givingaward show meets luxury lodge, and honestly?

I think I've nailed it.

I tuck my hair behind one ear, take a slow spin, and breathe in the sweet, linen-crisp scent of everything going exactly according to plan.

Okay, so maybe I don’t know what I’m doing with mylife… but this? Branding. Aesthetic. Perfectly-angled sponsor signage?

This I can do in my sleep.

“Okay, where do you want the paddles?” Natalie’s voice calls from behind me, followed by a series of chaotic thuds.

I turn to see her and Sophia stumbling in with two full boxes each, faces flushed from hauling them across the icy parking lot.

“Set them near the welcome table. We’ll sort by number later,” I call, already halfway to the AV table to triple-check the lighting presets. Again.

“Ugh,” Natalie groans, dragging her box the last few feet. “I swear, this auction better be worth it. I mean, at least every time I see Hunter, I just…sigh. Have you seen that man in a suit?”

I spin back around with a look of mock horror. “God, please don’t start.”

Sophia grins, flicking her long blond ponytail over one shoulder. “You’re just mad because you don’t have a hockey boyfriend of your own to bid on.”

I toss a pair of gold-edged place cards at her. “Yeah, becausethat’swhat I need. To spend my own money on more testosterone in my life.”

My stomach does a weird little somersault, probably still recovering from the painfully awkward family dinner my parents hosted the other night.

Ethan showed up forty minutes late, Mom interrogated him like she was auditioning for the FBI, and Dad spent the entire meal polishing his wine glass and pretending not to be scandalized by my career insocialmarketing.

The vibe was less 'reunion' and more 'hostage negotiation with canapés.'

“Careful,” Natalie warns, tugging her sleeves down. Her engagement ring glints under the lights as she gestures dramatically. “That’s how it starts. One sarcastic comment, and then boom—you’re planning a wedding with someone who calls youdarlin’during press conferences.”

My chest squeezes—not in a bitter way, just… wistful.

Natalie and Hunter are disgustingly in love. Sophia and Blake are a chaotic, slow-burn dream team that's never going to end.

---