Page 52 of Goalie's Obsession

She blinks. Nods. "I’ve stayed in places like this before."

Yeah. That’s what I was afraid of.

The door swings open and the driver announces our arrival like we’re royalty returning from exile. I step out first, shielding my eyes from the sun—and the cameras—then turn to help Lucy out of the limo.

She hesitates, just a beat, then easily slides her hand into mine.

Her skin is warm. Soft.

And even though this is all fake, I don’t let go.

The moment we step into the lobby, it’s like someone pressed the upgrade button on reality.

Chandeliers hang like ice sculptures from the ceiling, soft light reflecting off marble floors that gleam so bright Natalie pulls her sunglasses back down to stop the glare.

Everything smells like citrus and money—polished, pristine, pretentious.

At my side, Lucy freezes in place, one step over the threshold.

Her lips part. Her eyes scan the gold accents, the orchid arrangements, the sweeping staircase that curves toward a mezzanine filled with glass-walled business suites that are hosting corporate functions.

I stop beside her. “Let me guess… reminds you of your childhood.”

She doesn’t look at me. “Only if we’re counting the time I got grounded for sneaking downstairs during a fundraiser and hiding shrimp cocktails in my pockets.”

An actual laugh pumps from my chest upwards. “Fuck. You totallywouldbe the pocket shrimp girl.”

Her eyes flick to mine, but the usual fire’s missing. It’s subtle, but I feel it in my gut—she’s tensed up. Pulled inward.

This world? It's hers. At least, it used to be. But she walks through it like someone trying not to wake ghosts.

Behind us, the rest of the team spills through the entrance like a bunch of oversized frat boys. Ryder whistles low and wide.

“Dude, is that a chocolate fountain?”

Sophia snorts. “No, that’s Logan’s nightmare. He hates sticky fingers.”

Logan growls something unintelligible under his breath while Blake mutters about checking the bed for glitter bombs.

“Nice place,” Natalie says, looping her arm through Lucy’s as Coach Brody disappears from her side. “Maybe this won’t be such a drag after all.”

Lucy gives her a faint smile and nudges Natalie with her elbow, murmuring something that makes them both laugh softly as they drift toward the fountain in the center of the lobby.

I glance over at the front desk, where three valets and a very serious concierge are already deep in conversation with Coach Brody. The man is rubbing his temples like he just realized he has to spend ten days managing adult toddlers.

“We are NOT recreating the Vegas hot tub incident,” I hear him bark at Ryder.

“No promises!” Ryder yells back.

Coach groans. “I’m too old for this.”

Ryder slides up next to me as the rest of the team starts to scatter around us.

“Coach just said we’re doing beach training tomorrow,” Ryder whispers to us, like it’s top secret intel. “Bonding exercises, sunrise session, the whole shebang.”

I snort and shake my head. “Fuck. Of course we are.”

Ryder shrugs. “Said we need to ‘recenter’ after the charity auction chaos. Whatever the hell that means.”

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