Page 70 of Golden Goal

Ronan straightens, his entire focus now centered on Sutton. It's as if she holds all the answers to his future, and he's hanging on every word. "Do you really think so?" he asks, a distant look shimmering in his eyes.

Going against my natural instincts, Sutton tilts her head and clucks her tongue. "Yep. I know it."

I can't help but throw my head back and groan. "Jesus, Sutt."

Sutton's eyes widen, and she gazes up at me with a hint of nervousness. "What?" Her tone carries a tinge of remorse, as if she believes she's done something wrong.

"I appreciate your positive attitude," I admit, my voice tinged with skepticism, "but you can't know that for sure."

She counters firmly, "You know what? I do know that for sure." Sutton extends her arm across the table, clasping Ronan's hand. "I promise, good things are coming soon."

Ronan's face lights up. "You're incredibly supportive. Will you be my new best friend?" he asks, his enthusiasm palpable.

Sutton responds with a sickly-sweet smile that stretches across her gorgeous face. "No."

I can't help but bark out an unexpected laugh. Damn it, I think I'm in love.

Ronan quickly yanks his hand away from Sutton's, scowling in my direction. "You're sick in the head, man. You only laugh when someone is mean to me."

I manage to force out a response between my laughter. "I can't help what I find funny. And right now, what I find funny is you."

I take a moment to settle down, making sure that Ronan isn't genuinely upset, but Sutton is still giggling into my bicep. He's joking around, but beneath his smile, there's a hint of seriousness.

In an attempt to offer some genuine advice, I decide to cut him some slack. "You should focus on hockey, and everything else will fall into place when you least expect it."

A wave of emotions dances across his face. "All I do is focus on hockey and school. When is it my turn to be happy?"

Sutton chimes in with a thoughtful question. "Maybe you need a hobby?"

Ronan considers her question, pondering aloud, "What kind of hobby?"

Sutton responds with another question, "I don't know. What do you like to do?"

He directs his next question at me. "I like playing hockey. What else do I like to do?"

I can't help but roll my eyes. It's becoming clear to me why these two rarely get anything done efficiently – they ask too many questions. Nevertheless, I decide to play along. "You enjoy being outside, attempting to cook, and any situation that allows you to talk."

"You do pay attention to me! Should I take a cooking—"

I cut off his crazy talk, asserting, "You don't have time for a hobby right now. We barely have time for anything other than hockey or school-related stuff, so you should just chill out until the season ends."

Sutton lets out a resigned sigh, nodding in agreement. "All of that is probably true, but what you want is most important, Ro."

All of Ronan's previous emotions have vanished, and a wide grin splits his face. "It's too much to think about. Right now, I want a slice of cheesecake and to go back to your house to watch a movie."

I groan, emphasizing my point. "Dude, go home after this."

But Sutton jumps in, pleading, "No, no! We can watch a movie." She looks up at me with a pout. "Right?"

I release a breath, relenting as I throw my arm around Sutton's shoulders, pulling her closer to me. "Yeah, sweetheart, we can watch a movie." I cast a pointed look at Ronan. "But you can't spend the night."

"Can I stay the night if I sleep in your brother's old room?" I glance at Sutton, and her encouraging nod seems to convey her awareness of my reluctance. It's not something I should agree to, especially after the conversation we just had.

Reluctantly, I relent. "Yeah, of course, Ro."

Ronan's face lights up at the news, but it's more about the server approaching our table, promising both a movie and dessert. After Ronan places his order, the conversation takes a lighter turn, and Sutton and Ro dive into a discussion of their favorite TV shows. Sutton gives me a knowing side-eye, a silent assurance that she's safeguarding my secret of indulging in reality television.

The server returns, delivering Ronan's dessert and the check to me. As I examine the total, Sutton's hand boldly rests high on my thigh, momentarily distracting me before she swipes the bill from my hand and inserts her card. The server whisks it away before I can protest.

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