Page 27 of Goalie's Obsession

“Miss Lucy Daniels, Icehawks royalty in the making, just dropped a coolfifty thousand dollarsto claim our man of the hour—Connor Walsh!”

The lights feel too bright. My lungs too small. Connor's handway too steadyon my body.

“I need air,” I mutter, trying to pull back.

Connor doesn’t let go. If anything, his grip tightens.

“Oh, come on, baby,” he murmurs, voice dipping low and smug as hell. “People might start thinking you actuallywantme.”

I go completely still.

Then turn to glare up at him. “This is a publicity nightmare.”

He leans in, smiling for the cameras like we’re in a toothpaste commercial. “Relax, Lucy Lou,” he says, voice all velvet and heat. “Just enjoy your prize.”

Before I can say something that mightactuallyget me fired, Tony chimes in again.

“I think it’s safe to say,” he says dramatically, “that Mrs. Walsh has entered the chat!”

The roomerupts.

I choke. “Oh my god.”

Connor laughs, full-bodied and unbothered, like this is the best night of his life.

“You’re turning red,” he says. “Cute.”

"I am not cute. I'mdying."

Connor is still talking—something teasing about our “honeymoon plans”—but I don’t hear a word.

Because right now I’m being eaten alive by the moment, by the eyes, by the fact that my brother just walked out like I stabbed him in the chest. Like our little game was a betrayal of something that runs deeper than just sibling rivalry.

I look towards the door where Ethan stormed out and the noise around me fades. The lights blur and the entire rooms starts fucking spinning.

"Connor, I need some air. I'll be back."

I twist out of Connor's grip, ignoring his surprised plea as I duck under his arm. Crossing the room, Sophia reaches for me, concern etched on her face, while Natalie calls my name, but I weave through the crowd like I'm running drills.

The exit sign glows ahead of me. I burst through the heavy doors, gasping as the cold night air hits my face.

It's sharp. Icy. Real.

Normally, I don’t even feel the cold, not really. That's what happens when you spend your life in Iron Ridge.

That's also what happens when all you can see is your brother, pacing halfway down the stone steps, broad shoulders drawn tight, fists jammed into his pockets like he’s holding something back with everything he has.

“Ethan!”

He looks over his shoulder at me but keeps walking.

Goddammit.

My heels skid a little on the edge of the step as I hurry after him. The gala noise blurs behind me. Cameras still flashing through the windows. Somewhere inside, Connor’s probably posing like he’s the latest celeb.

But out here? Out here, it’s just me and Ethan and a night that suddenly feels too damn quiet.

“Ethan, stop!”

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