Page 80 of Goalie's Obsession

Connor exhales, his jaw tightening. “And he dropped thelook after youline?”

I nod.

“He always did have a flair for dramatics,” I murmur, my voice a little hoarse. “God, Connor. I think I’ve been gone from that life for so long I forgot how heavy it really is when shit goes pear-shaped.”

He touches my arm gently. “You’re not there anymore. You don’thaveto carry it all. He got into this mess, he can get out of it. He's a big boy now.”

I look around the suite. The candles, the leftover chocolate, the champagne flute tipped on its side like a little ghost of the girl I was five minutes ago.

That world feels miles away now.

“I don’t want to go back to it,” I whisper. “But I don’t think I have a choice. When we get home, I'm going to have to help him, Connor.”

Connor wraps me in his arms, solid and warm and safe.

“Then we’ll go. Together.”

His eyes close for a second, and when they reopen, I can see the restraint there. He wants to say something. Probably a lot of things. But he doesn’t.

“He’s never called me like that before,” I whisper.

Connor's arms shift, wrapping around my waist after adjusting his hoodie. His chin rests lightly on my shoulder. “I’m guessing you’ve never heard him sound like that, either.”

“No,” I admit, blinking back tears. “Not since…”

I trail off, but the memory pushes through anyway.

I remember the frantic phone call at 3 AM, Ethan's voice cracking as he begged me to wire him more money.

"Just a temporary loan, Luce. I swear I'll pay it back."

I'd send it without question - every damn time.

"He lost everything once before," I whisper. “This won't be the first time. He's got a track record—Macau, some sketchy crypto thing, Cayman ‘startups’ that were actually just yacht parties with a fancy business label. He’s a one-man financial cautionary tale.”

My fingers trace absently on Connor's forearm.

"And now… he sounds like a ghost of that young man with the world at his feet. Broken and completely unraveling. Without his parents there to guide him. And the worst part is… I don't know if there is anything else I can do to help him."

Connor’s hand smooths over my arm as he presses a kiss to the back of my head. He spins me on the spot and grips either side of my face, pulling my blurry eyes to meet his.

“Hey, listen to me. We’ll figure out what’s going on, alright?” He kisses my forehead repeatedly. "Don't worry your pretty little face over this. You’re the strongest person I know—and now you’ve got backup."

I nod, but I don’t move.

My body is frozen in the moment, suspended between panic and disbelief. It feels like the walls are thinner now, like this whole trip was a terrible mistake.

“I should’ve asked more questions,” I murmur. "I should have just stayed home instead of storming out on him."

“You tried, baby. We both did,” Connor says.

I turn in his arms, pressing my face to his chest. He’s warm. Solid.

“Hey,” he says gently. “Stay here. Lay down for a second while I make some calls and get some people to check in on him, alright?”

I nod and grab a tissue, stumbling to the bed as Connor disappears into the bathroom.

When he returns a few minutes later, he’s carrying… a bar of soap?

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