Page 116 of Goalie's Obsession

The crowd roars as Ryder executes a perfect spin move around Logan, who's pretending to defend while simultaneously taking selfies with fans through the glass—and plucking sachets of Emma’s coffee from his jersey pocket like a magician handing out candy canes.

It's beautiful mayhem.

A mix of retired pros with their beer bellies hanging over their pants and current players showing off like peacocks. Even Coach Brody is smiling from the box where Natalie appears to have taken reigns of the tactics board for the night.

But in amongst the fun of the charity event, my eyes keep drifting back to the goal, where Connor stands guard.

He's wearing a new mask, apparently freshly painted for tonight. When he turns to take a drink, I catch sight of the backplate and my hand flies to my mouth.

There, tucked into the design, are my initials - "LD" - with tiny peach-colored hearts on either side. My favorite candy, transformed into a permanent declaration on his most personal piece of hockey equipment.

My knees nearly buckle.

Hepainted meinto his armor. Like I’m part of what protects him now.

"You're grinning like an idiot," Ethan says, nudging my shoulder.

"I am. I can't stop." I laugh, just as Connor drops into a dramatictwirlbefore sliding into a save with one leg stretched out like he’s auditioning for figure skating nationals. The puck hits his pad, ricochets into the air, and he casually catches it behind his back like this isCirque du Soleil.

Then, he's got the audacity to blow me a kiss through the cage of his mask.

"He's an absolute idiot," I mutter, smiling so hard my face hurts.

Ethan laughs with me, like we're back on the couch as kids again, watching cartoons without a care in the world.

Everything about tonight - the charity game, the way Connor orchestrated this whole thing, how he found a way to make something good out of our mess… it's all just so…Connor.

Ethan leans closer. "You can stop being mad at him now. He's a good man, Luce. A good man who was just trying to protect you."

"I know," I say quietly, certainty settling in my chest as I watch Connor make an unnecessarily dramatic save that has the kids in the crowd screaming with delight.

"Then stop being mad," Ethan says. "Go get your man. Be happy. Be loved. Because of all the people in the world who deserve that,youdeserve it most."

“You coming down after the game?” I ask Ethan, voice casual, like I'm not ignoring his words because I'm on the verge of crying right now.

He winks. “Nah. I’ve seen enough swooning for one night.”

I roll my eyes, but my heart’s already halfway down the stairs.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Connor

Theroarisgonenow.

The crowd cleared out over an hour ago, the lights dimmed, the rink stripped back to quiet reflections and half-melted patches of ice.

I step out of the locker room with my gear bag slung over one shoulder, hair still damp, shoulder screaming from a charity-game-level slapshot I definitely didn’t try to block with my actualbody.

Totally worth it, by the way.

Because tonight was everything I'd hoped for.

And the first thing I see when I step out into the silent corridor…

Lucy.

She stands at the far end of the hallway, framed by the soft glow spilling from the mural wall. The new giant print of the final playoff win in Vegas last season, the Icehawks all frozen mid-celebration, faces full of grit and glory.

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