Page 2 of Goalie's Obsession

Mostly.

When they're not trying to marry me off to this weeks flavor of the week.

But the thing about being a Daniels is that you're never just yourself. You're a legacy, a portfolio, a carefully curated Instagram feed without the fun filters.

"You know what the worst part is?" I say, breaking the silence as Emma sorts through the new arrivals over by a large bookshelf. "There were a hundred people in that room tonight, and not one of them knows anything real about me. They know my family's net worth, my father's golf handicap, and which sorority I was in. But if someone asked what makes me happy..."

Emma raises an eyebrow. "Besides escaping to my bookstore?"

"See!Youget me," I laugh, but it fades quickly. "Even Ethan wasn't there tonight."

My brother. My once-upon-a-time partner in crime. Mom's golden boy who taught me how to climb trees in designer clothes and sneak extra desserts during formal dinners.

All of that before he saw the dollar signs and crossed over to the dark side.

"He was supposed to fly in yesterday." I frown, picking at a loose thread on my sweater. "Dad said he had 'work commitments' that kept him in Monaco, but..."

But Ethan hasn't returned my texts in three months.

His Instagram shows yachts and champagne and beautiful girls, but I see more than that. I see how my brother's eyes look hollow in every photo. The world which has consumed my parents is slowly taking him too.

And it breaks my heart.

"When was the last time you actually spoke to him?" Emma asks, her voice gentle.

"A few months ago? Maybe three?" I stare into my mug. "He called at 3 AM, sounded weird. But, anyway…"

Emma nods and I'm about to dive into my book when my phone buzzes against the side table. The screen illuminates with a photo of my mother in her garden, looking immaculate as always.

For the fourth time tonight… I decline the call with a fast swipe.

I can picture her exact expression right now. That pinched look that says I'm ruining years of careful social engineering.

"Your mom again?" Emma asks, glancing up from where she's arranging a new series of romantasy books with gold glittered edges.

"Who else?"

I sink deeper into my chair, lifting my book back up to eye level. The heroine is about to tell off the brooding hero, and honestly, I need that energy in my life right now.

My phone buzzes again, and I nearly ignore it, assuming Mom has switched to her favorite tactic: rapid-fire calls until I answer.

But something in the corner of my eye makes me glance at the screen.

The book slips from my fingers.

I sit up so fast I nearly spill what's left of my mocha. My heart jumps into my throat, and I must look like I've seen a ghost because Emma immediately abandons her books and crosses the room.

"Lucy? What's wrong?"

I stare at the screen, at the name I haven't seen light up my phone in months. The profile picture shows a younger version of us—Ethan with his arm around my shoulders at my college graduation, both of us grinning like we had the world figured out.

"It's... Ethan."

Emma's eyes widen. She knows all about my brother's disappearing act, knows how worried I've been beneath my casual mentions of him.

The phone continues to buzz in my palm, and for a second, I'm frozen.

My thumb hovers over the green button. I press accept.

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