“Her name was Lynn. She was supermom,” I say with a smile. “Never missed a game for me or my brother, got us to all of our practices on time and with all the equipment we would leave scattered around the garage and house.”
Lennon leans her elbows on the table, and the way she gives me her undivided attention like me talking about my mom is the most important thing in the world to her…it forms a lump in my throat.
“She got sick when I was a senior in high school. Got treatment, thought it worked, but no such luck. Four years later, long enough to see me get drafted, she passed away.” I’m grateful that we knew our time was winding down with her because it gave us time to savor each and every moment. Have those final conversations, make those last memories. “She died being held in my dad’s arms with me and my brother holding each of her hands.”
That final day used to be so raw, so painful, I pushed it to the recesses of my brain and left it untapped for so long. But as theyears went on, each day I learned how to carry the burden a little better, and I slowly let it seep back in and take comfort that in her final moments, she was surrounded by the thing she loved the most.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Lennon says, unshed tears shining in her eyes. “I can’t imagine losing a parent.”
“You almost did,” I say, remembering what she said about her dad being in a car accident.
She nods gravely. “I guess, yeah.” She glances around the room. “I don’t know, nights like tonight, hearing your story like that, it puts things into perspective.”
“Like what?”
“Like winning the Frozen Four. It’s been all-consuming on my mind for almost the entire last year of my life and been making you put in so many extra hours with me. And I just wonder, is it even that important?”
“Don’t lose your drive. Don’t diminish your goals and the value they hold to you just because there are objectively more important things that others are worrying about. If it’s important to you, then it’s important.”
Lennon looks down at her hands, hiding her reaction from me. “I won’t.”
“You won’t what?”
“Lose my drive.” Her voice is barely a whisper.
“Good. It’s one of my favorite things about you.” The confession slips out before I can stop it. Lennon flicks her eyes up, looking at me through her lashes, and I don’t want to take it back.
“Really?” She sounds so damn hopeful.
I nod curtly, thankful that the lights begin to dim and Alice grabs the microphone from the stand onstage. Lennon looks like she wants to say more but instead directs her attention toward the front of the room like everyone else. She moves to stand nextto me so she doesn’t have to crane her neck, and I get a whiff of her sweet perfume.
It smells just like my sheets after the morning she left.
“Thank you all for coming out tonight, not only to support our incredible university and women’s hockey team, but also an amazing foundation that is driving breakthroughs in breast cancer research every single day.” Alice pauses as the room applauds. “It is my honor to introduce the founder and leading researcher of the On and Up Foundation, Dr. Helen Guong.”
Dr. Guong steps elegantly onto the small stage, her dark hair swept up in a practical up-do and sharp eyes scanning the room. She takes the microphone from Alice, thanking her for the introduction, before she faces the audience.
“Many of us have been touched by breast cancer in some form in this room, whether it be yourself, a mother, daughter, sister, aunt, grandmother, or friend. It has robbed so many things from so many people, and I will spend the rest of my life, if I have to, trying to find a cure to this disease.”
More applause echoes around the room before Dr. Guong can continue.
“But research isn’t free, and it’s because of people like you that are making it possible. One person in particular has shown a spotlight on breast cancer research, and has contributed not only his money, but also his notoriety in helping bring more awareness to our cause. Haulton’s very own, Luke Holloway.” She gestures toward me, and suddenly every head in the room turns my direction. My spine stiffens, and I give a small dip of my chin in acknowledgment. Lennon shifts next to me, clearly unsure of how to react being thrust under a microscope.
“Luke’s mother, Lynn Holloway, sadly passed away from breast cancer after a four year battle. In the year following his mother’s death, Luke donated an entire contract year’s salary to our charity in her name and has been a consistent donorever since. It is our honor to be here tonight, alongside him in this new phase of his career, and to be here with you all.” More cheering and clapping commences, further drawing out the headache residing behind my eyes.
Lennon’s eyes widen, and her mouth forms a perfect littleOas she glances at me.
“What?” I whisper.
She takes a moment to collect herself, before she says softly, “That’s incredibly generous of you to have done.”
I shrug it off, the suit jacket restricting my movement.
“No, seriously,” she says and places a hand on my forearm that rests on the high-top table. I jolt at the contact and the way it instantly causes a stir in my gut. She quickly pulls it away, obviously thinking better of our surroundings, and where she once was touching me is suddenly ice cold. “Sorry.”
I clench my teeth to keep myself from saying something stupid. I stare straight ahead and try to pay attention to the rest of Dr. Guong’s speech. But instead I’m just hyper aware of every single movement of Lennon’s. When she takes another sip of her drink and her throat bobs with the movement. When she leans on the table and it pushes her ass out. When she adjusts her earring and the movement brushes the hair off of her shoulder, giving me an unobstructed view of the length of her neck.
It’s suffocating. Being in this room full of people but only having my focus stolen by one. My fucking athlete.
