Page 17 of Goalie's Obsession

I wonder if Lucy will notice.

I haven’t thought this hard about how I look since senior prom—and even then, I didn’tcare.Teagan Miller wanted the perfect couple photo. I just wanted to make it to regionals.

She left me the second my stats tanked and the scouts stopped calling. Taught me real quick that love is conditional, and no one stays when you’re losing.

Since then, I’ve kept things simple: don’t get attached, don’t let anyone in, and never change for someone.

And yet here I am.

Wearing cologne. Shaving my jaw. Wondering what Lucy fucking Daniels will think when she sees me tonight.

“Alright, alright.” Ryder flops back onto the couch and grins. “Let’s take bets. What’s Walsh gonna go for tonight? Twenty grand? Thirty?”

“Is this real life?” I mutter, grabbing a beer and leaning against the wall.

Logan flips a page in the auction program. “You’ve got the top fan engagement score on socials this season. You’re basically auction gold.”

“Didn’t Blake used to be the golden boy?” Coach Brody asks from the bar.

“Yeah,” Blake says, holding up his phone to show a background photo of him and Sophia. “And then I gother.”

Ryder groans and throws a bottle cap at Blake. “Big Mike and Greglikethat you’re off the market. It’s part of your brand now. Walsh, though?” He gestures at me with a wing. "With Walsh all cleaned up like this? Come on."

Logan grunts. “Please. Half his fanbase thinks he lives in a cave during the season.”

Blake leans back, eyeing me. “Yeah, well. Women love a redemption arc.”

Hunter raises an eyebrow from across the room. “And what exactly is he redeeming himself from?”

Ryder answers for me. “The beard."

"And the attitude," Logan chips in.

I shake my head and drain half my beer. “You’re all idiots.”

“Hot ones,” Ryder adds, not missing a beat.

The music shifts, bass bumping low from the built-in sound system, and someone opens the front door just as headlights sweep across the wide circular driveway.

Hunter glances out the window. “Ride’s here.”

Outside, a black stretch hummer rolls up like we’re a bachelor party about to hit Vegas. The league sent it as part of the promo package for tonight’s event.

Ryder’s already halfway out the door yelling, “Dibs on the tunes!”

Blake grabs another wing and strolls out like he’s heading into battle.

I linger for one last second in front of the mirror, fingers brushing the edge of my clean-shaven jaw. If Lucy’s really planning to outbid everyone… I might as well make this auction worth the money.

Yeah. I hope she notices.

***

The ballroom at Icehawk HQ looks nothing like the place where we usually do media days and end-of-season interviews.

Tonight, it’s dripping in gold.

Literal gold—soft uplighting glowing from beneath sheer curtains, candles flickering in crystal holders, champagne flutes sparkling on mirrored trays. The Icehawks logo is embossed on everything from the cocktail napkins to the massive centerpiece floral arrangement at the front of the room. Above us, golden chandeliers glitter like we’ve stumbled into the NHL’s version of a royal wedding.

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