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15

Luke

P resent

Lennon watches me like I’m a wounded animal she’s scared of spooking, and it makes me want to break something. It’s the same way Elle looked at me after the incident. Pity, sadness, trepidation. She didn’t know what to do with that version of myself.

I didn’t either.

I’m still learning to.

“You tried to come back after it?” she asks, genuine curiosity coloring her question.

I nod once. “Only made it through one practice on the ice before I knew it was over.” It sounds like I didn’t try, like I didn’t give it enough time, but when you know, you just do.

“What happened?”

“I couldn’t track the puck.” I lean against the weight rack, letting it shoulder some of the burden. “One of the effects of my concussion,” I clarify. “That’s gotten better over the years, but at the time, it was insurmountable.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda important for a goalie.” Lennon laughs softly, and despite everything, a smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.

“It is.” I smirk. “And I have some vision loss, which doesn’t help either. On the ice that day, the realization hit that I’d never be back at the level I was. And if I couldn’t be, then I didn’t want to play at all.”

“It would’ve been more painful to stay than walk away,” Lennon muses.

I blink at her, surprised at her response. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“I understand,” she says. I see it reflected in her eyes. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“It is what it is. Can’t change it.”

She leans forward, and for the first time I notice the lightest smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and apples of her cheeks. They add a youthfulness to her.

Well she is only twenty-one.

“I’m still sorry. That sucks.”

Her validation feels strangely…good. “Thank you.”

“And truly, I hope you don’t feel like I invaded your privacy or anything.” She bites her lip. Have they always been so pink? “I was just curious.”

“I get it. I know I haven’t been the most approachable person.”

Lennon waves me off. “It’s understandable. I’d like for us to start fresh, if that’s alright.”

“Start fresh?”

“Yeah.” She nods, running her palms down her bare legs. “No more backtalk, no more online searches, just work. If you’re willing to uphold your end.”

Of making her the best player she can be.

“If that’s what you want,” I agree.

She smiles and it brightens her entire face. “Good. Maybe this is how everything was all meant to be.”

“What?”

“Us losing last year and you coming here to coach,” she says like it’s obvious.

I frown.

“I like to think everything happens for a reason,” she clarifies.

“Like, religiously?”

“No.” She chuckles. “But I think that everything in our life happens to get us exactly where we’re supposed to be. Like clearly, you don’t want to be here, but you are. And maybe there’s a reason for that.”

“Hmm.” I mull that over for a second while Lennon’s eyes narrow on me. “I guess if that helps you sleep at night.”

“It does. Otherwise, I think life is a whole lot more complicated to try to piece together.”

I shrug. “Fair enough.”

There’s a lot of shit in my life that I wouldn’t like to chalk up to some bigger meaning. Like am I really supposed to believe that my mom’s cancer diagnosis was for some bigger purpose? Bullshit. It was cruel and devastating and unnecessary.

But the smaller things, like Alice offering me this position in a time where I was fading into nothing? A lifeline that I didn’t want but maybe was exactly what I needed?

Maybe.

Just maybe Lennon is onto something.

And just maybe she’s wrong about one thing, though. I didn’t want to be here. But this morning when I overslept my alarm, I got up in a rush and swept out the door without stopping for a shower or breakfast because I knew Lennon was here waiting for our workout. And I didn’t like the thought of letting her down.

Haulton University was the last place I wanted to be last month, but slowly, it’s becoming the highlight of my otherwise dull days.