Page 23 of Goalie's Obsession

The mood changes. Less wild. More focused. He walks up like a soldier to a mission—calm, collected, expression unreadable.

The bids come slower. More refined. Until, from the corner of the room, I see my best friend from Chapter and Grind, Emma, raise her paddle.

I choke on air.

Sophia shoots me a look that tells me she's as shocked as I am. I shake my head fast, swearing to God that I knew nothing of this.

Emma stays expressionless, her paddle steady as the bids climb. Until someone from the VIP table—some guy with a designer suit and Silicon Valley aura—raises it to fifteen-five and takes the win.

Emma lowers her paddle without a flicker of emotion. Logan leaves the stage looking less than thrilled.

Ethan gives me a look and raises a brow. "What's all that about?"

“I have no idea. But you bet I’m gonna unpackthatlater,” I mutter.

“Next, we have THE SILVER FOX HIMSELF. THE STRATEGIC SEX GOD. THE MAN WHO INVENTED THE SMOLDER—COACH HUNTER BRODY!”

Natalie hides behind her hands as Hunter walks onstage, stoic as ever. There are cheers and whistles as Coach Brody shakes his head and waves of the unwanted attention.

The moment the emcee says 'dream date,' a woman bathed in jewelry screams, “I’ll pay twenty thousand!”

Another shouts, “Thirty!”

Hunter holds up a hand, his cheeks flushing bright red. “Thirty-five. I’m bidding on myself.”

Troy Starbeam staggers. “I—what? Can we allow that? Wecan? Oh. Okay. Well. Coach Brody has bought himself!”

Natalie’s cry-laughing in the front row. “That’smyman, ladies!”

Then the lights shift again. The music changes.

Dramatic. Tense. Theatrical.

“AND NOW—THE MOMENT YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOR. THE MAN WHO COULD BLOCK YOUR HEART AS EASILY AS A SLAPSHOT. THE ONE, THE ONLY… CONNORRRRRR WALSHHHH!”

My entire bloodstream evaporates.

Connor steps into the light, adjusting his cufflinks like he hasn’t just turned my body toash. The crowd goeswild. Screams. Cheers. Champagne glasses raised.

Beside me, Ethan leans in with a devilish grin as he rubs his hands together. “Oh boy. This is gonna be fun.”

I narrow my eyes. “You better hope you brought your wallet.”

He raises a brow. “Planning to back out?”

I grip my paddle. “Not a chance. I’ve got one goal tonight.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

I don’t blink. I just look my brother in the eyes and say, “To win the auction—and rub my hands all over that clean-shaven face like it’s my birthright.”

Ethan snorts so deep he nearly inhales his champagne through his nose.

Connor reaches the center of the stage, giving the crowd one lazy, devastating smile. My paddle's in my hand, ready as Ethan stumbles to regain his composure.

Round One of this stupid sibling rivalry goes to me.

The auctioneer spins on his glittering high-heeled boots, arms flung wide like he's presenting a Broadway finale. "Iron Ridge, are you READY for your MAIN EVENT?!"

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