Page 46 of Goalie's Obsession

He’s scared I’ll become her anchor instead.

I sit on the edge of the couch, elbows on my knees, heart still pounding. That fight—it wasn’t just a fight. That was a final blow. A friendship torn in half, right down the middle, the split marked by blood and history and everything we never said.

But then, like an angel senses the doom… finally, my phone buzzes and I see the only name I've ever wanted to see flash on my screen.

Lucy:Burn the suit, Walsh. It's horrid.

It’s not much. Just six words.

But they hit me harder than Ethan’s fist ever would’ve.

I grin. Shesawit.

And more than that… sheanswered.

Goddamn, I want to reply with something charming, cocky, borderline filthy. I want to send her a photo of what I’m actually wearing underneath the suit—a plain white T-shirt I stole from the team’s laundry stash. I want to ask if she’s still thinking about what almost happened in her office.

But my thumb hovers over the keyboard, and all I type is:

Me:So you do want me to look good for you?

No reply.

I stare at the message. At her name.

She’s probably packing right now. Probably choosing outfits that’ll haunt me for the next ten days. She’s probably wearing that oversized sweater she always curls into when she’s trying to disappear at the book shop. Probably not thinking about how badly I still want to kiss her again.

I sit back, my chest tight, head spinning.

I should stay away. Should honor whatever friendship Ethan and Iusedto have. Should draw a line in the sand and keep my distance.

But how do you stay away from the only person who makes you feel like your whole world’s been waiting for her to show up?

How do you walk away fromthat?

Fuck.

The next ten days are going to be hell.

Chapter Ten

Lucy

IronRidgeAirportlookslike it mated with a sports bar and gave birth to a reality show.

The entire front terminal is crammed with fans waving homemade signs, reporters with camera crews, and enough noise to make my ears ring before I even get through the sliding doors.

To the side, someone’s blasting the Icehawks victory chant from a portable speaker. There’s a food truck outside selling "Walsh Waffles," complete with powdered sugar goalie masks. Another’s slinging "Blake’s Burritos" like they’re giving away gold.

I am two seconds from turning around and crawling into the nearest luggage carousel.

“Smile,” Sophia sing-songs next to me, nudging my arm as we push through the crowd. “You’re the face of a franchise now.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Too late,” Natalie adds, adjusting her duffel bag over one shoulder. “You’re already trending on TikTok. Again.”

My stomach flips. I haven’t checked social media since yesterday, and frankly, I’d like to keep my delusions intact for a few more minutes.

---