Page 94 of Goalie's Obsession

And just like that, we're moving in slow, easy circles while the world fades around us.

Her cheek brushes mine. Her perfume curls through my chest. And my heart is busy doing fucking backflips in my perfectly tailored suit.

I hold her tighter, inhaling the smell of her hair.

“You know, Lucy Lou… I was just thinking…” I murmur against her soft locks. “This might just be the best night of my life.”

She laughs softly, resting her head against me. “I swear I've heard you say that every time you win a hockey game.”

“Yeah. But the Cup’s not in my arms right now, is it?”

She makes a sound like a half-laugh, half-sigh. One of those sweet little noises that ruins me.

“I don’t care about the cameras,” I whisper. “Or the awards. Or the gala, or the league, or any of this.” I pull back just enough to meet her eyes, and fuck, they’re shining in this light like they could tear me open. “I care aboutyou. That’s it. That’s the whole list.”

She stares at me, lips parted. I keep going—because when you love someone like this, youhaveto say it. Youhaveto let it spill. Because you might not get another chance.

“I love you, Lucy. So damn much it hurts sometimes. I didn’t even know it was possible to feel this way. I used to think forever wasn’t for me.” I shake my head. “But now I can’t stop picturing it. You. A house in the hills. Kids who talk too much and ask too many damn questions. I can see the peach rings on the floor, stuck to the soles of my socks, my shoes... the things are fucking everywhere.”

She chokes on a laugh, but her eyes stay glassy.

“I’m proud of you,” I say. “Of everything you’ve fought to become. I know this world—the cameras, the spotlight, all of it—is everything you tried to fight off. But you’re still standing. Still shining.”

Her fingers tighten at the back of my neck.

“And if you want this life—really want it—I’ll give it to you. All of it, no problems. But if you want to run, Lucy…” I swallow. “I’ll run with you. I’d go anywhere, so long as it’s with you.”

She doesn’t say anything right away. Just sways with me, forehead resting against mine, while the music winds around us like silk.

And for a few stolen minutes, I let myself believe this moment will last forever.

The song ends too soon, but I don’t let her go right away. I press one more kiss to her hair, just above her ear, and I swear she melts into me like she’s ready to stay here forever.

Then the lights shift, a new song thumps through the speakers, and the bubble bursts. Reality seeps in on a wave of bass and champagne clinks.

“Come on,” Lucy says softly, her voice still thick with emotion.

I lace my fingers with hers, leading us toward the bar, which is already swarmed with overgroomed sports agents and trophy wives comparing diamond engagement rings.

Lucy is still glowing, either from that dance or a few too many champagnes. I order us another round anyway, admiring how her cheeks are dusted pink, those beautiful eyes soft like she’s let her guard down just a little.

Then a voice from the side of us, all honeyed and sharp, instantly makes Lucy’s spine go bolt straight.

“Lucinda, darling!”

We both turn as a woman in a floor-length navy gown approaches, silver-blond hair swept into a sleek chignon, diamonds glittering like she’s trying to blind the entire NHL roster.

I feel Lucy's fingers tighten around mine—just for a second—before she pastes on a perfect, effortless smile.

“Celeste,” she says smoothly, like she hasn’t just been sucker-punched by her childhood. “It’s been a while.”

Celeste Worthington air-kisses both sides of Lucy’s cheek, then draws back just enough to give me a once-over, eyes flicking over my suit, my stance, probably my soul.

“And who’s this handsome mystery man?”

“This is Connor Walsh,” Lucy says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Cup-winning player for the Iron Ridge Icehawks.”

I offer a polite nod. “Nice to meet you.”

---