Page 108 of Goalie's Obsession

My legs give out, and I crumple into my favorite armchair. The oversized blue one by the window where I've spent countless hours hiding from the world. The leather catches my tears as they fall.

"They're all gone," I whisper, my voice breaking. "Every single one of them."

Emma kneels beside me, her hand finding mine. "What happened?"

"My parents—" I choke on the words. "I finally stood up to them. Told them I was done with their perfect family act."

A bitter laugh escapes me as Emma hands me a cup of tea.

"And Ethan? He's drowning in gambling debts that could destroy everything I've built with the Icehawks."

Emma squeezes my hand, but I'm not finished.

"And Connor—" His name tastes bitter in my mouth for the first time ever. "He tried to shut me out. Like I'm some delicate flower that needs protecting."

Fresh tears spill down my cheeks.

"Just like everyone else."

"Oh, honey." Emma pulls me into her arms, and I break.

All those years of being the good daughter, the supportive sister, the perfect Daniels heir… in a matter of hours, they've crashed down around me. I sob into Emma's shoulder, letting go of everything.

"I have nothing left," I whisper. "No family. No Connor. Nothing but this chair and you."

Emma strokes my hair like she has so many times before, when life got too heavy and I needed somewhere safe to fall apart.

"You have me," she says firmly. "Always."

But even her unwavering friendship can't fill the Connor-shaped hole in my chest, or erase the look on my mother's face when I walked away, or fix whatever broke inside Ethan so long ago.

I'm alone.

And for the first time in my life, I don't know how to fix it.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Connor

Idropmyduffelwith a thud and sink onto the nearest bench, dragging my hands down my face like they might erase the memory of Lucy storming out last night.

I didn’t sleep. Not really.

I kept replaying it over and over in my head. The way her voice kept cracking, her eyes glassy with betrayal as they bore into me with tears spilling over. The way she looked at me like I’d joined the list of people who let her down.

And maybe I did.

Because even if my heart was in the right place, I still made the one move I swore I never would—shutting her out. Just like the people she’s been fighting against her whole damn life.

Nice going, Walsh.

I lean back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling tiles like they’ve got answers buried between the seams. I keep thinking about the last thing she said before she walked out.

“You don’t get to decide when I matter.”

And fuck if that didn’t split me clean open.

The locker room still smells the same as when we left for the offseason tour. Cedar polish, sweat, and the ghosts of a hundred games.

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