Page 3 of Goalie's Obsession

"Lucy! Where are you?" Ethan's voice cuts through the line, sharp enough to make me flinch.

Something's wrong. The words tumble from his mouth too fast, too harsh. This isn't my smooth-talking big brother who can charm his way through any situation.

"Why aren't you at the party?!"

"Well, hello to you too." I force lightness into my voice, even as my stomach knots. "And before you take Mom's side, you weren't there either!"

A scoff crackles through the speaker. "I had... business to take care of when I landed in Iron Ridge. I'm here now. Where the fuck are you?"

Emma leans closer, her brow furrowed.

I press the phone tighter against my ear, trying to decode what's different about his voice.

"Hiding," I say finally, because despite everything, despite the radio silence and missed birthdays and unanswered texts, he's still Ethan. Still the person who knows all my secrets. Understandsourworld like no one else.

"Perfect. I'll meet you there."

I blink at the empty air. My heart stutters because of course he knows exactly where I am. How many times did he find me curled up in this same corner of Chapter & Grind when things got too much? How many times did he bring me hot chocolate and sit while I ranted about Mom's latest schemes?

"Um, okay."

I stare at my phone, mind racing as Ethan hangs up.

Three months of silence, and now Ethan's rushing to meet me? Something doesn't add up. My brother doesn't do anything without a reason, and whatever this is, it feels urgent.

"He's coming here?" Emma whispers, eyebrows raised.

I'm about to respond when the bell above the door chimes. My eyes dart up automatically.

And my heart stops.

It's not Ethan.

Fuck.

It's worse than that.

Connor Walsh, championship winning Goalie for the Iron Ridge Icehawks strides in, all six-foot-three of him, shaking snow from his messy hair. His leather jacket hugs broad shoulders, and that goddamn playoff beard he's been growing is wilder than ever.

He scans the café with devastating amber eyes—the same eyes that miss nothing on the ice.

Then his gaze locks with mine.

His lips curve into that smirk that's been irritating me ever since I started working for the Icehawks a few months back. The one that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners, the one that's graced countless magazine covers and haunted my dreams for years.

And he's walking straight toward me.

Emma looks at me. I look at her.

And then, before I can even process what’s happening, Connor drops into my chair like he owns the damn thing.

I make a strangled noise beneath his weight. "Connor!"

His very large, very muscular frame presses against mine, trapping me between six-foot-three of smug hockey player and the armrest that is currently my only lifeline.

He grins, stretching his arms behind his head like he’s on a beach somewhere, completely ignoring the fact that he is literally on top of me.

"Missed me, sunshine?"

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