Page 121 of Goalie's Obsession

The camera zooms in during a timeout, and Connor, ever the showman, blows a kiss directly at the lens. His lips form words that make Ethan sit up straight.

"Did he just say 'hello, my fiancé'?" Ethan's eyes go wide. "Wait. Are you two—?"

I sigh, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the ring I've been carrying around like a damn lead weight all morning. The diamond catches the light as I slide it onto my finger.

"Lucy Daniels!" Ethan's jaw drops.

Ethan stares at my ring like it might disappear if he blinks. When he finally does blink, his entire face transforms into pure, unfiltered joy.

"Holy shit, you're engaged?!" His voice cracks on the last word, drawing amused looks from James and Pete.

I can't help but laugh at his reaction. "We haven't told anyone else yet. I wanted you to be the first."

Before I can react, Ethan launches himself at me, wrapping me in a bear hug that squeezes all the air from my lungs. I feel wetness against my shoulder and realize he's crying.

"Easy there, big brother."

He sniffles but doesn't let go. "Sorry. Just—you're getting married. To Connor Walsh. My best friend and my little sister."

"And you'll be standing right there with us," I say, finally extracting myself from his grip. "So get better and come home."

Ethan's face lights up. "Already on it. Emma and I talked last week during visiting hours. I may have promised her a complete business plan for her coffee start up. Emma's coffee empire could use a reformed finance guy, right?"

"Of course," I roll my eyes. My throat tightens. "I'm proud of you, Eth. Really proud."

On screen, Blake scores off Connor's perfect outlet pass. The crowd erupts as Connor slams his stick against the glass, grinning directly into the camera—at me.

"I still can't believe I get to keep him," I whisper, touching my ring.

***

After arriving home from visiting Ethan, I'm curled up on Connor's oversized leather couch, drowning in his Icehawks hoodie while flipping through Emma's wedding planning notebook.

The pages overflow with her loopy handwriting and magazine cutouts—all accumulated since I texted her a ring photo hours ago.

My tea steeps on the coffee table, filling the apartment with chamomile. I trace my finger over a sketch of a dress, smiling at how Emma's already planned half my wedding before I've even announced it.

Just as the butterflies start to flutter in my belly again, Connor bursts through the door, still in his game-day suit, hair damp from the post-game shower. His eyes lock onto me and his whole face lights up.

"Ah huh. There's my fiancée." He drops his bag and crosses the room straight for me.

I squeal as he scoops me up, notebook flying to the floor. "Connor! You're crushing me!"

"Good." He kisses me hard, then pulls back with a frown. "You showed Ethan before I could do my big reveal."

"Sorry." I wrap my legs around his waist. "But you did propose the night before I was going to visit him."

Connor’s laughter fills the room, that low, gravelly sound I feel all the way down to my toes. His eyes glint with mischief as he kicks the bedroom door shut behind us.

"You know," he murmurs, voice deep and lazy. "I've heard that engaged couples have the best sex. Something about the anticipation. The build-up."

I roll my eyes, but the grin pulling at my mouth gives me away. "Oh yeah? Where’d you hear that?"

He shrugs, sauntering toward me with that slow, predatory grace that makes my knees threaten mutiny. His fingers slide beneath along the hem of my shirt, teasing bare skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"Just some locker room wisdom," he says, slipping one hand further under the fabric. “Blake says it’s all about the emotional connection. Logan says it’s adrenaline. Ryder says it's roleplay and whipped cream.”

I snort. “God help his future wife.”

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