Page 97 of Goalie's Obsession

“Oh good,” she mutters. “At least you’re both vertical. Barely.”

Connor mumbles, “Not quiet verticalyet,but thanks for ruining that.”

I smooth my hair and sit up straighter. “Um, not that I don't love you all. But is there a reason we’re throwing an impromptu team meeting in our suite?”

Blake drops the tray on the coffee table. “Just wanted to check in before we fly out. One last hurrah before we’re back in Icehawk land.”

“Where grown men wear matching green jerseys and yell about sticks,” Ryder adds, shoving a muffin in his mouth.

Connor grabs a coffee and takes a long sip like he’s pretending the last five minutes didn’t happen. “If this ‘hurrah’ doesn’t come with pants and privacy, I’m officially filing a complaint.”

I lean against his shoulder, trying to laugh along as Logan stares at his phone while smashing down another muffin.

But even through the chaos and caffeine, I can feel it.

Something’s different.

Their smiles are tight. Their eyes are scanning more than usual. There’s tension buried beneath all the banter, like they’re circling something they don’t know how to say yet.

They're all scattered across the suite like we're not about to pack our bags and board the private jet out of here.

Coach Brody is the only one who hasn’t said much. He’s standing off to the side, arms crossed, that familiar gruff expression on his face—the one he usually saves for locker room speeches or chewing out refs.

Something about the way he keeps looking at me makes my stomach tighten.

Connor notices too. He shifts beside me, his thigh pressed firm against mine as he shifts in and lays an arm around my shoulder.

But it’s Logan who finally breaks the noise, setting his coffee down with a heavy grunt and glancing around like someone needs to say it before it festers too long.

“Fine. I'll fucking start," Logan says, the heavy tone in his voice making my stomach drop. "Look, Lucy, turns last night wasn’t just champagne and selfies.”

Coach Brody nods, finally stepping forward. “There was talk. About Ethan.”

Connor’s hand squeezes mine but I still feel the way the room tilts sideways.

“What kind of talk?” I manage, my voice trying to stay even.

Coach Brody exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “It wasn’t just one person. A couple agents. A guy from the Rangers front office. Even some of the players from Toronto.” He looks straight at me now. “There’s a rumor going around that he owes money. Big money.”

I nod slowly.

Yeah. What else is new?

My brother’s financial fuck-ups could probably fund a mid-tier expansion team at this point.

But I keep my voice steady as I meet Coach’s eyes. “Okay. But what’s that got to do withyouguys?”

“They said he’s been seen near a few betting lounges. High profile sports lounges. One guy mentioned he’s been seen hanging out near the back entrances of the Seattle and Chicago arenas with… not exactly clean company.”

Ryder shifts uncomfortably on the bed. “Someone said his name’s been whispered around a few well-known hockey bookies. Quietly, but still.”

Blake adds, “No one’s going on record or anything, but it’s… out there.”

"And with you on board, we find ourselves bordering on the line of conflict-of-interest territory," Coach Brody says finally.

They're the words that hit the hardest. I feel my chest tighten like a steel corset just cinched in three notches too tight.

This isn’t just about Ethan making bad choices anymore. This is about the Icehawks.

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