Page 25

24

Luke

G od, I hate wearing a fucking tie. This thing feels like it’s trying to squeeze the life force right out of me. I had to dust off this suit after hanging in the back of my closet for years. Thank fuck it still fits like a glove, although the material feels staunch and stiff.

Or maybe that’s just a result of standing in a ballroom full of similarly dressed people, schmoozing and conversing over expensive champagne and hor d’oeuvres that I’m convinced everyone is lying about actually liking. What’s wrong with a slider or a Swedish meatball on a stick?

“Whiskey, please,” I tell the bartender and drop a twenty in the tip jar. He slides my drink over moments later, and I accept it with a nod. This guy is about to be my best friend tonight.

“Not your typical scene?” Jenna’s voice comes from my right, and I turn to find her dressed in a simple black gown. It complements the lightness of her hair, although it’s a fairly understated look for what I would’ve expected of her.

“Nope.” I take a long drink. “What gave me away?”

She chuckles brightly. “You may as well have fuck off written on your forehead.”

“Didn’t seem to stop you.” I soften my jab with a small grin, and Jenna scoffs playfully.

“Good thing Alice and I are here to charm the donors, and we’re not relying on you. Although I will say, Alice told me why you pitched the charity this year, and I wanted to say I’m sorry for your loss.” Her face shines with honesty, and I accept her regards with a clink of my glass against her own.

“It was Alice’s idea,” I say, not wanting the credit or attention.

“Well, it’s a great cause, and I’m glad the turnout is so good.” We scan the crowded room, and she’s right. It’s a sold-out event. “If you’ll excuse me, I better go make the rounds. And I’m assuming you don’t care to join me?”

“Nope.”

“As I thought. See you later.”

She takes off to mingle and I finish my whiskey, immediately ordering another one. I linger by the bar for as long as socially acceptable but realize I should probably try to talk to at least a few of the people who paid to be here tonight for a good cause.

I take a deep breath, hyping myself up to be social, when suddenly all of the air is sucked clean from my lungs the moment I hear her laughter across the room. I turn to see Lennon talking with a group of women. Her tight body is encased in an emerald silky dress that drapes down her every curve. Black strappy heels peek out from a slit that hits mid-thigh, showcasing the hours she puts in for her sport.

My feet move on their own accord as I cross the room toward her. As if sensing my attention, she flicks her eyes over to me, and they widen before her lips part slightly. Heat overtakes her face, and suddenly I’m happy about the dress code tonight. My pants suddenly feel too tight, too restrictive, as my cock twitches at the sight of her.

Fuck, am I goddamn teenager right now? I discreetly give my belt a little tug and hope that no one can see what she’s doing to me. Not here. Not anywhere.

“Oh, our guest of honor!” one of the women says as I enter their little circle. I was so distracted by Lennon that I didn’t even notice Dr. Guong. She immediately steps forward, cutting Lennon out of my sight momentarily, and embraces me. I return the gesture, although it’s stiff.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” I say as we break apart. “I’m no guest of honor. Trust me, just ask Alice.”

Dr. Guong and the other women laugh, but noticeably, Lennon doesn’t. She eyes me warily.

“Without you, I wouldn’t be here tonight accepting yet another donation that you helped arrange, so in my eyes, you are.” She smiles warmly at me and extends an elegant hand toward Lennon. “I was just talking with one of your athletes here. She had nothing but positive things to say, which surprised us all,” Dr. Guong teases.

I arch a brow at Lennon. “Surprises me, too.”

She distracts herself with a sip of her drink, and when she pulls the glass away, there’s an imprint on it from her red lipstick. Fuck, the color looks tantalizing on her, and I want to smear it across her face with my fingers and mouth. Her eyes are framed in bold dark lashes and between the makeup and color of her dress, the green in them shines like emeralds.

“Can I steal you away for a bit? I’d love to introduce you to the two new board members. I don’t believe you’ve had the chance to meet them yet.” Dr. Guong doesn’t wait for a response as she guides me toward a group near the front of the room.

I open my mouth to protest, not wanting to leave Lennon. Now that I’ve spotted her, I don’t want to take my eyes off her. But I have obligations to uphold, so I allow Dr. Guong to parade me around for the next hour.

All the small talk gives me a headache, and as I drain my glass, I use it as an excuse to dismiss myself to go grab another. I breathe a sigh of relief when I’m out of the mix once more and blending into the shadows at the back of the room.

Forfeiting a formal-plated dinner where everyone is restricted to their seats, high-top tables are scattered around the room for people to gather and bounce from one to the next. Although, I’ve officially had enough of that. I clocked the one in the back corner, near the bar, the moment I walked in, and after making the rounds, I rest my elbows against it and enjoy the reprieve.

Lennon seems to enjoy the quietness of it as well because she finds her way over to me almost as soon as I’m settled. “So, it was your idea to pitch the charity for this year?”

I’m going to need another drink. I nod. “Dr. Guong is one of the leading breast cancer researchers, and I got connected with her shortly after my mom’s diagnosis.”

Understanding washes over Lennon’s face. “I had no idea.”

“I don’t like to talk about it,” I say. “They asked me to make a speech tonight, but I’m not much of a public speaker.” I toss back another swig of my whiskey and relish the burn. “Especially not about something personal like this.”

Grief is sort of like wadding in the ocean. The first year after my mom died, my throat was constantly clogged with seawater as each wave crushed me beneath its toll, spinning me around until I was disoriented in the abyss.

The second year, there were still spells where I was bombarded with the icy lashes and struggled to catch my breath when I smelled her perfume or saw someone with the same golden hue of her hair. But as the years have passed, I’ve learned to weather the storms. Some days, it still sneaks up on me out of nowhere and I feel like I’m flailing once more, a small child crying out for his mother who is no longer there to tell him everything will be okay.

But for the most part, I’ve come to terms with her death. I know she wouldn’t want me to live with a shadow hanging over my head but instead her light. I’ve found purpose in charities like this one, and it feels good to celebrate her memory. It didn’t always, but over eleven years later, it does.

“I understand,” she says, spinning her own glass of what looks like soda water in her hands. “If you ever do want to talk about it…”

I don’t know if it’s the meaning of tonight and her memory sitting heavy on my shoulders or the glass of whiskey in my hand, but I find myself wanting to talk about her. Wanting to talk about her to Lennon .

“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 the years 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 next to 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 donor ever 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 little O as 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.

Dr. Guong wraps up her speech, but before she can introduce the dean, I slip out the back exit of the room. I can’t stand to be in there for one more moment. The hallway is covered in Haulton memorabilia and wood paneling as I stride down it. Soft steps thud against the dark carpet behind me, and before I even look over my shoulder, I know who it is following me.

Her presence feels like a second skin wrapped around my own. She holds her head high, determined, as she quickly closes the gap between us. We reach the end of the hallway, and I pull her into one of the open doorways. The coat check room.

She cries out softly but cuts it off when I pin her with my stare. “Why did you follow me?”

She hesitates. “I—I don’t know.”

“Yes you do.” We both do.

“I didn’t want to be in there without you,” she breathes. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

A weak excuse and we both know it.

Her gaze drops from mine and scans the cut of my suit, the dusting of hair on my jaw, the tightness of my pants around my thighs. The look is a gentle caress I feel down to my very bones.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I grit.

She narrows her eyes on me and takes a small step forward. “Like what?”

“You know what.”

Her chest rises and falls, pushing her breasts against the confines of her dress. I’ve never seen this much exposed skin on her. Every creamy inch of it taunts me, baits me into looking where I shouldn’t.

By the sly look on her face, she knows it too. The toes of our shoes brush each other, and I survey the open doorway over the top of her head. No one else is out here, but that could change at any moment.

“You should back up,” I order.

“Maybe you should.” Fucking brat .

“I’m not the one with the boyfriend. Would he like it if he knew what you’re doing right now?”

She leans closer and fuck it, so do I. “And what exactly am I doing right now?” Her voice is low but thick with something I don’t want to put a name to, because god I feel it too.

Desire .

“Don’t play dumb, Lennon.”

She swallows and rolls her red lips between her teeth. “He’s not my boyfriend, you know.”

“It doesn’t matter?—”

“He never was,” she continues. “We’re just friends. I mean, we’ve been more than friends, but it was just hooking up. And it’s over now. I haven’t been with him in months.”

The swift relief is something I didn’t realize I had been holding out for. Jealousy that once sat like a thick stone in my throat dissipates, and it kind of pisses me off because what the hell was I doing being jealous of a college kid anyway? I’m thirty-three. A grown-ass man.

It’s ridiculous, but I’ll still take the consolation.

“Take your jacket, and go home, Lennon.” It’s an order and plea in one.

“Why?”

“Because.”

She licks her lips. “Because why?”

I step forward until her back is flush against the wall next to the door. “Because I need you to leave before we both do something stupid.”

“Like what?” She’s breathless, and the temptation of her words teases my last nerve.

“Like slam that door shut, hike that sexy-as-hell dress up, and destroy every single boundary I’m trying to keep in place right now.”

The smallest whimper escapes from her parted lips, and I want to capture it with my mouth. Her eyelids are heavy with desire, and my cock strains against the confines of my pants. I angle the slightest bit forward, so my length brushes against her stomach, in both a warning and a promise.

“That doesn’t sound so stupid to me,” she croaks.

It doesn’t to me either right now. “But it should.”

Christ, she’s dug under my skin, festering like an open wound until I can’t ignore it. I fucking hate it, but I also fucking love it because it fills that empty void that resides in my chest with the sweetest venom from her lips and spitfire from her eyes. I need to get her out of me. Need to get her off of my mind, out of my skin.

So close. She’s so close I can almost taste her, and fuck, I know it’d be sweet. Maybe just one kiss, one kiss to get it out of my system and her out of my head. I dip my head, ready to damn us both.

Lennon’s face suddenly pales, and she snaps to attention. My heart stops as I quickly step back and listen. Footsteps approach, and I glance over as two party guests walk into the room, hand in hand. They look startled to see anyone else in the small space but recover quickly and grab their jackets from one of the racks.

One of the women eyes the two of us curiously as the other helps slip her jacket on, gaze bouncing back and forth at our proximity. I take another subtle step back and adjust the lapels of my jacket. Hopefully she can’t see the evidence of what I was just feeling moments ago tenting the front of my pants.

The other woman doesn’t pay us any mind as she retakes the other’s hand and leads her out of the room. Out of the corner of my good eye, it looks like Lennon is barely breathing. The reality of where we are, what we were so close to almost doing, and then getting caught before we could, crashes down on both of us.

She runs her hands down the front of her dress and presses against the wall as if she wishes she could melt into it. She refuses to look at me, and it shouldn’t grate against my nerves, but it does.

So to save us both from doing something that will have lifelong consequences, I give her a curt nod. “Don’t be late tomorrow.” With that, I take off down the hallway and out the door of the mansion, letting the cold, winter air slap reality back into my fucked up head.